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pucksandpower · 2 months ago

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Critics and Lovers

Max Verstappen x journalist!Reader

Summary: how would the paddock react if they knew that the woman writing scathing critiques about the reigning world champion weekend after weekend was the same woman who whispers sweet nothings in his ear at night?

“Did you really go to school for half a decade to get your journalism degree just to ask if I think I’ll win?”

Max’s voice cuts through the bustle of the press room, drawing the attention of a few journalists milling around with their notebooks and recorders. He leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, his smirk more amused than annoyed. His blue eyes — always so intense under the brim of his cap — lock onto yours, daring you to respond.

You raise an eyebrow, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at him. “I’m asking the questions the people want answers to, Max. It’s my job, remember?”

“Your job is to provoke me, apparently,” he counters, leaning forward slightly, his smirk widening. “But you know, you could at least pretend to be creative. Ask something that might surprise me for once.”

“I wasn’t aware you had the capacity to be surprised,” you quip, your pen hovering over your notepad as if ready to jot down his response.

Max lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Touché. But if you’re expecting me to give you a soundbite for your next article, you’ll have to do better than that.”

The exchange draws a few chuckles from the nearby journalists, but they quickly refocus on their own tasks, used to the banter between the two of you. After all, it’s no secret that you’re Max Verstappen’s biggest critic.

Week after week, your articles dissect his performances with surgical precision, never shying away from pointing out his flaws, his temper, his moments of questionable judgment. To everyone else, you’re just doing your job, holding one of the sport’s biggest stars accountable. But to Max — well, he seems to take it in stride, brushing off your critiques with the same ease he shows on track.

What no one else knows, though, is that this verbal sparring is just another part of the complicated dance you and Max have been perfecting for years. A dance that begins in front of cameras and microphones, and ends in private, where the lines between your professional rivalry and personal relationship blur into something neither of you can fully define.

��Okay, fine,” you say, pretending to think hard about your next question. “How about this: what’s your plan for today? Any new strategies to surprise us with?”

Max raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “That’s almost worse than your first question. Did you really think that would get me talking?”

You sigh, exasperated. “Maybe if you gave me a straight answer for once, I wouldn’t have to keep asking.”

He leans in closer, lowering his voice just enough so only you can hear. “Maybe if you asked me something off the record, I’d actually consider it.”

“Off the record doesn’t sell papers, Max,” you reply, your tone equally low but tinged with something more affectionate, something that would be impossible to miss for anyone paying close attention.

Max’s smirk softens into something more sincere, his eyes flickering with the warmth that you’ve come to associate with the quiet moments you share away from the track, away from the scrutiny of the world.

It’s a look that says he knows you’re playing a role, just like he is. That despite the biting comments and the professional jabs, there’s a mutual understanding between you. A connection that runs deeper than anything either of you would ever admit in public.

But here, in this crowded room filled with reporters who’d kill for the kind of scoop only you could provide, that connection has to stay hidden. Because if anyone ever found out the truth — if they knew that you, the woman who writes those scathing critiques of Max Verstappen, were the same woman who shares his bed at night — it would be the end of both your careers.

And so, the game continues, with both of you playing your parts to perfection.

“Next time, try asking me something interesting,” Max says, his voice returning to its usual volume as he straightens in his chair, signaling the end of your private moment. “Otherwise, I’ll start thinking you’re getting lazy.”

You give him a look that’s meant to be stern but can’t quite hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Lazy? I think you’re confusing me with your performance last weekend.”

The jab earns you a mock glare from Max, but he doesn’t take the bait, instead giving a noncommittal shrug. “We’ll see who’s lazy when I’m on top of the podium later.”

“Confident as ever, I see,” you remark, jotting down a few notes that you know you’ll never actually use.

“Just stating facts,” he says, and for a moment, you can’t help but admire the way he carries himself, the ease with which he navigates this world of high stakes and even higher expectations. It’s one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, back when neither of you had any idea where this relationship was heading.

“Well, good luck out there,” you say, finally stepping back to let the next reporter have their turn. But as you move away, you catch the briefest flash of something in his eyes — something that tells you he’s not just thinking about the race ahead, but about the conversation you’ll have later, away from prying eyes.

As you find a spot at the back of the room, your phone buzzes in your pocket. A quick glance tells you it’s a message from Max, sent under the guise of a work-related email, as usual.

You know I’m going to make you pay for that lazy comment later, right?

You bite back a smile, typing out a quick response.

Promises, promises.

The rest of the press conference goes by in a blur of questions and answers, none of which capture your attention the way Max does. You’re barely listening when the moderator finally wraps things up, and the drivers start to file out.

But before Max can make his exit, he pauses just long enough to catch your eye, giving you a look that’s all too familiar. It’s the same look he gave you the first time you met, back when he was just another driver on the grid and you were the new journalist determined to make a name for yourself. A look that says he’s already planning what he’s going to say to you later, when the cameras are off and the real conversations can begin.

You follow the crowd out of the room, blending in with the other journalists as you make your way toward the paddock. But your thoughts are already drifting to the end of the day, to the moment when you’ll finally be alone with Max, free to drop the pretense and just be yourselves.

Because despite the roles you play in public — the critical journalist and the cocky driver — in private, you’re something else entirely. Something that neither of you can fully explain, but neither of you wants to give up.

“Heading back to the media center?” One of your colleagues asks as you step outside, the midday sun beating down on the paddock.

“Yeah, I’ve got a deadline to meet,” you reply, forcing your mind back to the task at hand. But even as you say it, you know that your thoughts will be elsewhere for the rest of the day. On Max, and the secret you both share. A secret that, for now, is safe.

But how long can it stay that way?

The question lingers in your mind as you head back to your desk, the usual chatter of the paddock fading into the background. You’ve always known that this arrangement couldn’t last forever, that eventually, something would give.

The world of Formula 1 is too small, too tightly knit, for secrets like this to stay buried forever. And when the truth finally comes out — because it’s not a matter of if, but when — you know that everything will change.

But for now, you push those thoughts aside, focusing on the article you need to write. It’s what you’re good at, after all — crafting narratives, shaping stories. And today, the story is about Max, the driver who never fails to surprise you, both on and off the track.

The press room is quieter now, most of the other journalists having moved on to other tasks. You sit down at your laptop, the screen reflecting your determined expression. The cursor blinks at you, waiting. And as you begin to type, the words flow easily, the story taking shape with each keystroke.

It’s a story the world has seen before — another race, another analysis of Max Verstappen’s performance. But underneath it all, there’s a subtext that only you can see, a hidden layer that tells the real story. The one that will never make it to print.

The one that belongs to just you and Max.

Hours pass in a blur, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you lose yourself in the work. It’s almost too easy to write about Max, to analyze his every move, his every decision. You know him better than anyone, after all — better than any other journalist in this room, better than most of the people in his life. It’s a knowledge that comes with a price, though, a price you’re all too aware of.

But as the final paragraph falls into place, you sit back, satisfied. The article is done, the narrative complete. And with it, the day’s work is finally over. You stretch, glancing around the empty press room, and for a moment, you allow yourself to relax. To let go of the role you’ve been playing all day, and just be yourself.

Your phone buzzes again, pulling you back to reality. Another message from Max.

Meet me in the usual place?

You don’t hesitate before typing out a reply.

On my way.

The media center is almost deserted as you make your way out, the soft hum of electronics the only sound filling the room. You slip your laptop into your bag and sling it over your shoulder, feeling the weight of the day lift slightly as you step into the paddock. The evening air is cooler now, a welcome relief after the day’s heat, and the sky is streaked with shades of orange and pink as the sun dips below the horizon.

You walk with purpose, navigating the familiar maze of trailers and motorhomes, heading toward the secluded spot where you and Max often meet. It’s tucked away from the main pathways, a place where no one would think to look for you, and that’s exactly why it works. You reach the spot and pause, taking a deep breath before stepping around the corner.

Max is already there, leaning against the side of a trailer, his cap pulled low over his eyes, hands shoved in his pockets. He looks up as you approach, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Took you long enough,” he says, his tone teasing.

“Had to finish that article you’re so eager to read,” you reply, stopping a few feet away from him, just outside the reach of his hands.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s a glowing review of my abilities,” he says, pushing off the trailer and closing the distance between you in two strides. He reaches for your hand, pulling you closer, and you don’t resist. Here, in this quiet corner of the paddock, the walls come down, and the roles you play for the cameras melt away.

“Glowing might be a stretch,” you say, allowing yourself a small smile as his hand lingers on your waist. “But it’s fair.”

“Fair is good,” he murmurs, leaning in so his forehead rests against yours. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re going easy on me.”

“Maybe I am,” you admit, your voice softening. “Or maybe I just think you deserve a break every now and then.”

“From the criticism? Or from you?” He asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Both,” you say, giving him a playful shove, but he doesn’t budge, his grip on you firm yet gentle.

“You know I’d never take a break from you,” he says, his voice low, serious now. His thumb strokes your side, sending a shiver up your spine.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the sensation wash over you. It’s these moments you treasure the most, the ones where it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure. Just Max and you, stripped down to the simplest version of yourselves.

“I know,” you whisper, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. “I’d never let you.”

His smile turns tender, and he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. “Good,” he says simply, before closing the small gap between you and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft, unhurried, a stark contrast to the fast-paced world you both live in. It’s a reminder of what you have, what you’ve built together despite the odds. And as you kiss him back, you feel a warmth spread through you, one that has nothing to do with the lingering heat of the day.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours again, he lets out a small sigh, as if he’s been holding his breath all day and can finally relax. “I hate this,” he admits quietly.

“Hate what?” You ask, your fingers playing with the edge of his shirt, needing the physical connection to anchor you.

“Hiding,” he says, the word heavy with the weight of months, years of secrecy. “I hate that we have to keep doing this, sneaking around like we’re doing something wrong.”

You feel a pang in your chest, because you hate it too. Hate the way you have to pretend to be something you’re not in front of everyone else. Hate the way you have to watch your words, your actions, every time you’re in the same room as him. But more than that, you hate the idea of what would happen if the truth came out. The scrutiny, the backlash, the way it would change everything.

“I know,” you say softly, your fingers stilling on his shirt. “But it’s the only way right now. We both knew that going into this.”

“I know we did,” he replies, his voice tinged with frustration. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No,” you agree, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “It doesn’t.”

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and for a while, neither of you says anything. The silence is comforting, a shared understanding that words can’t always convey. It’s moments like these that make the rest of it bearable — the stolen kisses, the secret glances, the knowledge that, no matter what happens, you’ll always have each other.

Eventually, Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression softer now, the frustration replaced with something gentler, more resigned. “I just wish it could be different,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” you admit, your heart aching with the truth of it. “But we’ll get through this, Max. We always do.”

He nods, though you can see the doubt lingering in his eyes. “Yeah, we will,” he says, as if trying to convince himself as much as you. “And when we do, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Together,” you echo, holding onto the word like a lifeline.

He leans in to kiss you again, and this time, it’s slower, more deliberate, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail, every sensation. And you let him, because you’re doing the same, savoring the feel of him, the taste of him, the way his hand cradles the back of your head like you’re something precious.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, and the world feels a little less heavy, a little less overwhelming. Max rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his breath warm against your skin.

“I love you,” he says, the words so simple, yet so profound in the way they ground you, remind you of what’s important.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady, certain.

He smiles then, that slow, genuine smile that’s just for you, the one that makes your heart skip a beat every time. And in that moment, everything else fades away — the doubts, the fears, the uncertainty of what the future holds. Because right now, in this quiet corner of the paddock, it’s just the two of you, and that’s enough.

For now, it’s enough.

“Come on,” Max says after a moment, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s get out of here before someone comes looking for us.”

You nod, and together, you slip out of the shadows, making your way back through the maze of trailers and motorhomes, hand in hand. The paddock is quieter now, most of the crew having called it a day, and the sky is a deep, dusky blue as night settles in.

As you walk, you can’t help but glance at Max, the way his profile is lit by the dim lights of the paddock, the way his grip on your hand never wavers. It’s moments like these that make it all worth it — the sacrifices, the secrecy, the constant balancing act between your public and private lives.

Because at the end of the day, it’s not the criticism or the articles or even the races that matter. It’s this — being with him, knowing that no matter what, you’ll always have each other.

And as you slip out of the paddock together, unnoticed by anyone, you hold onto that thought, letting it carry you through the darkness, through the uncertainty of what tomorrow might bring.

Because for now, it’s enough.

And that’s all you need.

***

The Hidden Truth: Why I Kept My Marriage a Secret

By: Y/N Y/L/N

For as long as I’ve been a journalist, I’ve prided myself on one thing: honesty. I’ve built a career on asking the tough questions, on digging for the truth even when it’s uncomfortable, and on holding the powerful accountable. That’s why, as I sit down to write this, I find myself in an unfamiliar position — one where I’m the subject of my own scrutiny.

Over the past few years, I’ve become known as Max Verstappen’s biggest critic. I’ve questioned his decisions on track, his attitude off it, and his approach to the sport we both love. I’ve written article after article dissecting his every move, never once pulling my punches. And, in doing so, I’ve created a persona that many have come to recognize — a journalist who isn’t afraid to speak her mind, no matter who she’s writing about.

But there’s something I’ve kept hidden. Something I’ve chosen not to share, not because I’m ashamed of it, but because it’s deeply personal. And now, it’s time to tell the truth.

Max Verstappen is my husband.

Yes, you read that correctly. The man I’ve spent years publicly scrutinizing is the same man I wake up next to every morning, the same man who knows me better than anyone else in this world. We’ve been married for two years, together for even longer, and our relationship is something I hold incredibly dear.

I can already hear the questions — how could I, a journalist dedicated to transparency, keep such a monumental secret? How could I write so critically about the man I love, knowing the impact my words would have? The answers are complex, but I’ll do my best to explain.

When Max and I first started dating, it was easy to keep our relationship private. We were just two people trying to navigate the chaotic world of Formula 1, and neither of us wanted the added pressure of public scrutiny. But as our relationship grew more serious, we both knew that revealing it would come with consequences — not just for us, but for our careers, our reputations, and our personal lives.

So we made a choice. We decided that our relationship was something we wanted to protect, something we wanted to keep just for ourselves. And yes, that meant keeping it a secret from the public, from our colleagues, even from some of our closest friends.

But the secrecy wasn’t about hiding. It was about creating a space where we could be ourselves, away from the cameras, the interviews, the constant analysis of every move we made. It was about having something that was ours and ours alone, in a world where so much is shared, dissected, and often distorted.

Now, as for the criticism — many of you will likely wonder how I could write so harshly about the man I love. The truth is, when I put on my journalist hat, I’m not Max Verstappen’s wife. I’m not Y/N, the woman who loves him. I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the journalist who has a job to do. And that job is to report on the sport objectively, to ask the tough questions, and to hold everyone — including my husband — accountable.

Max knew this from the beginning, and he respected it. In fact, he encouraged it. He didn’t want me to go easy on him just because of our relationship. He wanted me to be true to myself and to my profession, even if that meant writing things that were difficult for both of us. And yes, there were times when it was hard — when I wrote something that hurt him, when we had to have difficult conversations about where to draw the line between my role as a journalist and my role as his partner.

But through it all, we’ve managed to keep our relationship strong, because we both understand that what happens on the track, what’s written in the press, isn’t the full story. The full story is what happens behind closed doors, away from the public eye, in the quiet moments we share when it’s just the two of us.

And now, the secret’s out. I know this revelation will come as a shock to many, and I’m prepared for the questions, the speculation, and yes, the criticism that will inevitably follow. But I want to make one thing clear — I’m not sorry.

I’m not sorry for keeping our relationship private. I’m not sorry for protecting something that means the world to me. And I’m not sorry for continuing to do my job with integrity, even when it meant writing things that were difficult for both of us.

This is our truth. It’s messy, it’s complicated, but it’s ours. And now, it’s out there for the world to see. I’m not asking for understanding or approval, because I know this will be a difficult pill for some to swallow. But I am asking for respect — for my choices, for our relationship, and for the fact that, at the end of the day, we’re just two people who fell in love in a world that’s anything but ordinary.

Max and I are still the same people we were before you knew about us. He’s still the incredible driver you’ve come to admire, and I’m still the journalist who will continue to ask the tough questions, no matter who’s on the other side of them.

The only difference now is that you know the full story.

And I’m okay with that.

***

The Other Side: Why We Chose to Keep Our Love Private

By: Max Verstappen

I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, whether on the track or off. Racing is in my blood — it’s what I’ve known and loved my entire life. But writing? That’s a whole different race, one where I’m definitely out of my comfort zone. So, when Y/N suggested I write this article, I wasn’t sure if it was such a great idea. But she convinced me — like she always does — so here I am, trying to find the words to explain what’s been one of the most significant parts of my life, one that I’ve kept hidden from the world until now.

As you’ve probably read by now, Y/N Y/L/N, the journalist who has been my harshest critic, is also my wife. Let that sink in for a moment — I know it took me a while to get used to the idea too. Not the fact that she’s my wife, but that the world now knows something we’ve kept private for so long.

When Y/N and I started dating, we had no idea where it would lead. We were just two people who happened to find something special in each other, despite the chaos of our worlds. But as our relationship deepened, so did the challenges. How do you navigate a relationship when one of you is in the spotlight 24/7, and the other’s job is to shine that light as brightly as possible, even when it’s uncomfortable?

We quickly realized that what we had was too important to let the world dictate how we lived it. So, we made a choice — a choice to keep our relationship private, not because we were ashamed, but because we wanted something for ourselves, something that wasn’t up for public debate or scrutiny.

People will ask why we did it, why we went to such lengths to keep it a secret, and the answer is simple: because we had to. Being a Formula 1 driver means living your life under a microscope. Every move you make, every word you say, is analyzed, criticized, and often misunderstood. It’s a pressure cooker, and adding a public relationship into that mix was something we weren’t willing to do.

It wasn’t an easy decision. There were times when I wanted to scream from the rooftops about how much I love this woman, how much she means to me, and how proud I am of her. But I knew that doing so would open us up to a level of scrutiny neither of us wanted or needed. And so, we kept it quiet, we kept it private, and we built something strong and real away from the cameras.

That’s not to say it was without its challenges. Y/N’s articles about me — some of which were less than flattering — were hard to swallow at times. But I respected her too much to ask her to change the way she does her job. She’s a journalist, and a damn good one at that. She has a responsibility to her readers, to the sport, and to herself to be honest, even if that honesty stings.

Did it hurt when she wrote something critical about me? Of course, it did. But I also understood that what she wrote came from a place of integrity, not malice. It was her job to ask the tough questions, to hold me accountable, and to do so without bias. And I loved her even more for it.

You might wonder how we managed to keep our relationship strong despite the secrecy and the criticism. The truth is, we did it by being honest with each other in ways we couldn’t be with anyone else. We talked — about everything. About the articles, about the pressures we were both under, about our fears and our hopes for the future. We made sure that, no matter what happened on the track or in the press, we were solid in our relationship. And we were.

But now that the secret’s out, I know things will change. People will have opinions, and they’ll want to know every detail of how we made this work. They’ll want to dissect our relationship just like they dissect my races. And that’s fine — we knew this day would come eventually.

What I want people to understand, though, is that our decision to keep our relationship private wasn’t about deception. It was about protection. We wanted to protect what we had, to give ourselves the space to grow as a couple without the pressures of the outside world bearing down on us.

I’ve always been a private person, and that’s not going to change just because the truth is out. But I’m also incredibly proud of what Y/N and I have built together. She’s my toughest critic, yes, but she’s also my biggest supporter, my partner, and the person I trust more than anyone else in this world.

So, why write this now? Because I want to set the record straight. I want people to understand that our relationship is real, that it’s built on love, respect, and a shared understanding of what it means to live in this crazy world of Formula 1. We didn’t hide it because we were ashamed — we hid it because we wanted to protect it, to keep it safe from the chaos that surrounds us every day.

And now that the secret’s out, I’m not afraid of what’s to come. I know there will be challenges, but I also know that we’ll face them together, just like we’ve faced everything else.

This is our story. It’s not perfect, and it’s far from simple, but it’s ours. And now, the world knows it too.

***

The sun hangs low over the paddock as you walk beside Max, your hand nestled comfortably in his. The usually bustling environment feels different today, like the air has thickened with anticipation. You can feel the eyes on you — hundreds of them, some curious, some incredulous, all hungry for the next piece of the puzzle that is you and Max Verstappen.

You’ve written about this very paddock more times than you can count. You’ve captured its energy, its chaos, its unpredictability. But today, for the first time, you’re the story.

Max squeezes your hand, a silent reassurance, and you glance up at him. He’s calm, or at least he appears to be. You know him well enough to see the subtle signs of tension — the set of his jaw, the way his eyes scan the crowd with a little more intensity than usual. He’s ready for whatever comes next. So are you, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Ready?” He asks, his voice low, meant only for you.

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply, managing a small smile.

The first few steps into the paddock are deceptively quiet, almost serene. But then, as if someone has flipped a switch, the cameras flash, the microphones extend, and the questions start flying at you from every direction.

“Max! Is it true you’ve been married for two years?”

“Y/N, why did you keep it a secret?”

“How does this change your dynamic on the grid?”

“Will you be writing about Max differently now?”

You and Max exchange a glance, a wordless conversation in the middle of the media frenzy. His hand tightens around yours, a steady anchor in the chaos. You can feel the eyes of your colleagues, the other journalists who are now looking at you not as one of them but as a subject. It’s a disorienting feeling, like the world has suddenly shifted and you’re standing in a place you no longer recognize.

Max leans in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Welcome to my world.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, a sound that cuts through the tension like a knife. It’s absurd, this whole situation. You’ve spent years writing about him, criticizing him, analyzing his every move, and now you’re on the other side of that scrutiny.

You straighten your shoulders, drawing on every ounce of professionalism you have. This is what you signed up for. You’ve spent years dissecting the lives of others, and now it’s your turn to be under the microscope. It’s only fair.

But Max isn’t letting you go it alone. He steps forward, his presence commanding as he addresses the swarm of reporters. “We’ll take questions, but let’s keep it civil,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The first question comes from a reporter you recognize, someone you’ve shared more than a few press rooms with. “Max, how does it feel to have your relationship with Y/N out in the open?”

Max glances at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It feels good. We’ve wanted to keep this part of our lives private, but now that it’s out, we’re ready to move forward.”

Another reporter jumps in, this one more aggressive. “Y/N, how do you expect to remain unbiased in your reporting now that everyone knows you’re married to Max?”

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I’ve always strived for objectivity in my work, and that won’t change. My relationship with Max is separate from my role as a journalist. I’ll continue to ask the tough questions, just as I always have.”

It’s a carefully crafted answer, one you rehearsed in your head a dozen times before stepping into the paddock. But you can see the skepticism in their eyes, the doubt that you can truly keep your professional and personal lives separate. It stings, but you knew it was coming.

Max’s voice cuts through the murmurs. “Y/N has always been one of the best in the business, and that’s not going to change just because we’re married. If anything, she’ll probably be even harder on me now.”

There’s a ripple of laughter, a brief moment of levity in the tension-filled space. But it’s short-lived. The questions keep coming, each one sharper than the last.

“Max, do you think your performance on the track will be affected now that your marriage is public?”

“Y/N, do you regret keeping this a secret for so long?”

“What about the other drivers? How do they feel about this?”

You’re starting to feel the weight of it all, the relentless pressure of the cameras, the voices, the questions that seem to dig deeper and deeper. But Max is by your side, unwavering, and that gives you strength.

“I don’t regret anything,” you say firmly, your voice cutting through the noise. “Max and I made the decision to keep our relationship private because it was what was best for us. We wanted to protect something that mattered to us, and I don’t think anyone can fault us for that.”

Max nods, his hand still wrapped around yours. “We knew this would come with challenges, but we’re ready to face them together.”

There’s a moment of silence, a pause as the reporters digest your words. But you know this isn’t the end of it. The scrutiny, the questions, they’re not going to stop anytime soon. You’ve become the story, and that’s something you’ll have to live with.

But as you stand there, side by side with Max, you realize that you’re okay with it. You’ve spent years writing about other people’s lives, their triumphs and failures, their relationships and rivalries. Now, it’s your turn to be in the spotlight, and you’re ready for it.

“Max, Y/N,” a voice calls out, one of the more seasoned journalists you’ve always respected. “What’s next for you two? How do you plan to navigate this new chapter?”

Max looks at you, his eyes softening. “We’re going to keep doing what we’ve always done. I’ll keep racing, Y/N will keep writing, and we’ll keep supporting each other every step of the way. This is just another challenge, and we’re more than ready to face it.”

You nod, feeling a surge of confidence. “We’re not going to let this change who we are or what we do. We’ve always been a team, and that’s not going to change now.”

There’s a finality to your words, a sense that you’ve said all there is to say. The reporters sense it too, the questions starting to taper off as they realize they’re not going to get anything more out of you today.

Max squeezes your hand one last time before turning to the crowd. “Thanks, everyone. We’ll see you in the media pen.”

With that, he starts to lead you away, but not before you catch the eyes of a few of your colleagues. There’s a mix of emotions there — some understanding, some curiosity, and yes, some judgment. But you don’t let it get to you. You’ve spent your career building a reputation, and one revelation isn’t going to tear that down.

As you walk away from the crowd, Max’s arm slips around your waist, pulling you close. “Not so bad, huh?” He murmurs.

You laugh softly, leaning into him. “Speak for yourself. I think I’ll stick to writing the articles, not being the subject of them.”

Max chuckles, his breath warm against your temple. “Now you know why I’m not a fan of the media. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Of course,” you echo, smiling up at him.

The paddock is still buzzing with energy, the usual pre-race preparations in full swing. But you and Max walk through it with a new sense of purpose, a newfound clarity. The secret is out, and while it comes with challenges, it also comes with freedom — a freedom to be yourselves, to love each other openly, without the burden of secrecy.

You know the road ahead won’t be easy. There will be more questions, more scrutiny, more judgment. But as long as you have Max by your side, you know you can handle whatever comes your way.

2K notes · View notes

chahnniesroom · 18 days ago

Text

coming up roses

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: most of the time, you're grateful to have such a good relationship with your older brother, minho. but when you find yourself falling for his best friend, chan, you can't help but be worried how he'll react when he finds out. you soon find yourself struggling with the unexpected consequences of keeping your feelings a secret.

word count: 10.2k

tags/warnings: hanahaki!au (read a/n), brother's best friend!au, hurt/comfort, angst, lots of fluffy sibling dynamics between minho and y/n, bad communication by the reader, mentions of: coughing, blood, and vomiting

read it on ao3 | masterlist

a/n: i have finally written my hanahaki au!!! this took me ages, but i really really wanted to write a fic based on how this post describes hanahaki because i love this interpretation (hanahaki is from supressing feelings instead of unrequited love) a lot more than how it's usually written (not that that version is bad!). i actually wish i could have drawn this out more, but didn't have it in me haha

the phrase "it's all coming up roses" means that everything is going well with someone and i thought it was so perfectly ironic for a hanahaki fic where a character actually has roses coming up in the literal sense.

Minho has always been protective. You had felt cool and invincible as a child, having an older brother that was willing to have your back and scare away anybody that teased you.

You’re grateful that he cares enough to be so involved in your life, but now that you’re in university, you can’t help but feel a little stifled. Minho takes his role as an older brother very seriously, especially since the two of you have moved out of your family home and are sharing an apartment closer to campus. It's a mixture of doting and enough teasing to drive you crazy.

Growing up, your family home had been the regular haunt of Minho and his friends. It was more common than not to get home from cram school and find the boys either lingering in the nearest convenience store or hanging out in your apartment. You wouldn't say that you were friends with the boys, but you were at least familiar enough that you would say hi to them if you saw them in the hallways and they would offer to walk home with you if you were ever leaving school at the same time.

Starting university had been hard for you, most of your friends had ended up moving to other cities or even going abroad. You, however, had decided to stick closer to home. Your program had a good reputation and your parents had promised that they would help you and Minho get an apartment close to campus as long as you lived together. Minho had readily agreed, he had commuted for his first year and had always complained about how long it took.

It was a difficult adjustment, moving out of your family home, balancing your course load, and making friends. Unlike Minho, who had used dance to find his close group of friends, you didn't have any hobbies that you were particularly passionate about and you weren't naturally outgoing or charismatic.

Especially in the first few weeks of classes, it feels like such a relief whenever you see one of Minho's friends that you latch onto them. It’s kind of awkward at first, especially because you don’t know his friends well enough to speak with them casually, but they get used to your presence. You would even consider some of them to be your friend, especially Seungmin, who shares a class with you, and Chan who usually has his lunch break at the same time as you.

You make your own friends eventually, slowly getting to know some of the people that share your program, but you’re definitely a lot closer to the boys than you were prior to university. While you spent most of your childhood calling Minho and his friends lame, you can now admit that you enjoy spending time with them, although you’d never say it to Minho’s face.

Still, Minho doesn’t always approve of who or where you hang out. Sometimes he’s even nosier than your parents were, always asking you about your schedule and calling when you’re out late. He warns you about spending time one-on-one with men and makes sure that you always have your location shared with him. You tolerate it for the most part, knowing that it’s his way of showing that he cares about you, but sometimes you just find him overbearing.

—

“I’m going out next Saturday,” Minho tells you one evening as you step out of your room to get a glass of water. “You’ll have to figure out something for dinner on your own.”

“Oh,” you say, suddenly a little nervous. “I uh- I also have plans that night.”

“Sure,” he agrees easily. “What are you going to be doing?”

“There’s a party that I was invited to,” you say, biting your lip when you see Minho freeze. You turn your gaze to the ground, but you can still feel Minho's stare intensify.

“What party,” he demands, not even bothering to frame it as a question.

“Does it matter?” you whine, annoyed by how protective Minho is. It’s even worse that you have an audience, Chan is over and you can see out of the corner of your eye that he’s watching your conversation curiously.

“Yes.” His tone leaves no room for argument.

“I think it's at Taehoon's,” your voice is barely a whisper. Minho hears you anyway.

“Taehoon?” He repeats in disbelief. You glance up briefly. Minho's ears are flushed bright red and the tendons in his neck are standing out. He's furious. “Taehoon, who is four years older than you? Taehoon, who holds off-campus parties?”

You grimace and don't respond. There’s no way that he’s going to let you go, you resign yourself to a weekend stuck in your room watching dramas while your friends enjoy themselves.

It’s bad enough that you had to mention Taehoon, who doesn’t have the best reputation, but you’ve forgotten that Minho would easily be able to recognize the type of party that he throws. You haven’t been to many university parties, but even you know that without the dorm restrictions, off-campus parties are often the wildest and were harder to get invited to. It’s not that you particularly care to attend this party in specific, you just don’t want to miss out since all of your friends will be there.

“Minho,” Chan steps in, clasping a heavy hand on your brother's shoulder.

“Who invited you,” Minho seethes, shaking Chan off.

“Just one of my friends,” you deflect.

“Minho,” Chan says again, this time jostling Minho enough that he turns his attention away from you finally. Your body sags in relief. “Chill, we're going to Taehoon's next weekend. It's just a party.”

“Yes, we are going. Not my baby sister! Y/n-ah, the answer is no.”

“Oppa!” you complain. “I'm not a baby anymore!”

“You don't know anything,” Minho hisses at you.

“We were going to way crazier parties when we were Y/n's age,” Chan interrupts one more time. “Come on, at least we'd be able to keep an eye on her.”

Minho is about to reply when he stops and tilts his head in thought.

“Okay,” he says slowly, turning back to you with a gleam in his eye. “You can go, Y/n.”

“Really?” you brighten instantly even though you’re a little bit suspicious of his sudden change in heart.

Your breath catches in your throat as you excitedly make eye contact with Chan. He winks at you teasingly before turning his full attention back to Minho, who thankfully hadn’t noticed.

“You're coming with us,” Minho says, nodding decisively.

“Are you kidding me,” you reply flatly, all enthusiasm vanishing instantly.

“Yes. I'll make sure that everybody knows not to mess with you and you still can have fun with your silly little friends. Unless you don't want to go anymore?” Minho raises an eyebrow at you.

“Fine, I'll go with you,” you grumble.

“It'll be fun, Y/n! I promise that I won’t let Minho embarrass you,” Chan says, slinging an arm around your shoulder. You try not to shiver as he leans in to whisper to you, close enough that you can almost feel his lips touching your ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to find something or someone to distract him enough that he’ll forget you’re even there.”

“Okay,” you breathe shakily.

“Hey!” Minho pulls Chan off of you and into a headlock. “Whatever you’re scheming, cut it out. Y/nnie, don’t listen to a single thing this idiot tells you.”

“I try not to listen to idiots,” you say. “That’s why I never follow any of the advice that you give me!”

“Y/n-ah-” Minho starts.

You stick out your tongue at him childishly then dart to your room, slamming the door and locking it behind you so that Minho can’t follow you. The sound of Chan’s resulting laugh echoes through your head for the rest of the day.

—

By the time the weekend rolls around, you're a little worried that you’ve caught a cold. Your throat is achy and talking too much makes you cough, but you're not feeling any other symptoms so you don't think you're actually sick. Minho wasn't exactly pleased when you told him you were still planning on going, but he kept his word and didn't try to convince you otherwise.

Your friends are all getting ready together at one of their dorms, but your brother was adamant that he wanted you to go to the party with him and his friends. You're more comfortable getting changed and doing your makeup at home anyway, so it's not a big deal, but it's still not the same.

Conversation pauses when you finally exit your room. Only Chan, Hyunjin, and Minho are still in the living area since most of Minho's friends are crowded around your apartment's entryway, shuffling to get their jackets and put on their shoes.. Their eyes widen and you see Hyunjin choke on the drink he had just taken a sip of. You tug at the hem of your skirt slightly, suddenly feeling self conscious.

You've worn this outfit before with friends and while it's definitely not the most conservative option in your closet, it's nowhere near as revealing as what you expect other girls will be wearing. It's just that you're not used to being around Minho's friends when you've put so much effort into your appearance and are showing off a bit of skin. They’ve seen you at your worst and are most familiar with the comfortable sweats and hoodies that you usually wear around your home.

Minho recovers the fastest. In a flash, he's made his way to you and has a death grip on your arm, trying to drag you back into your room. You resist, digging your heels in to try and make it harder for him, but it barely even slows him down.

“Oppa!”

“You are not leaving looking like this,” Minho huffs through gritted teeth.

“Minho-ya, come on. We're going to be late if you make her change,” Chan calls out. It draws the attention of the rest of the boys, who turn to look at the commotion. You hear Jisung wolf-whistle teasingly which only makes things worse. Minho's hand tightens even more around you, hard enough that you're sure it's going to bruise, and he whips around to glare at Jisung.

“Hyung, it's fine. Y/n-ah looks good,” Seungmin chimes in, before winking at you. You groan internally, knowing from the look in his eye that you're not going to like what he says next. “Is there a boy that you're trying to impress tonight?”

“No!” you deny immediately, still trying to pull your arm from your brother's grip to no avail. Your chest tightens at the idea of being forced to stay at home. Minho immediately latches onto the idea that Seungmin has thrown out, his expression darkening even further.

“Is it true?” he questions you.

“Oppa, I promise, I'm just matching with my friends. Which you would know if we actually go to the party!”

“If there is, you better tell me,” he warns.

“Yes, yes,” you groan. “If there was, which there isn't! You're just wasting time now.”

“At least put on a jacket, you’re going to be cold.”

“Fine.” You wrench your arm out of Minho's grasp and stalk to your room. You grab the first jacket you see, intent on ditching it the second that you get to the party, then head straight to the door, breezing past Minho on your way. “Happy now?”

“Thrilled,” he says in a flat voice that says he is anything but.

—

Your apartment is not too far away from the party, so it’s not long before everyone is unloading from their cars and approaching the party. You can hear the bass pounding even from outside the building and you’re sure that there will be a number of neighbours that file noise complaints by the end of the night.

When you make it in, your friends greet you enthusiastically, but are all a little bit weird, fixing their hair more than usual and giggling nervously. You’re not close with all of the girls that are in the group, some of them you can’t even recall if you’ve met before, but you can still tell that everyone is acting strangely.

It's not until you turn around that you realise that Minho has practically stationed himself behind you and is glowering at anybody who looks your way too long. After years of being on the receiving end of his glares, you’ve grown immune, but everybody else is clearly at least a little intimidated.

“Oppa,” you hiss. He barely spares you a glance. “You're not seriously going to babysit me all night, are you?”

“I'm letting you do what you want so you should let me do whatever I want,” he replies primly.

You know there's no convincing him on your own. From across the room, you manage to catch Chan's eye and nod your head in Minho's direction. Luckily, he knows exactly what you're trying to say and makes his way over quickly to stand beside Minho.

“Minho-ya, you don't have a drink yet?” he asks, before pointedly taking a sip of his own cup.

“I asked Yongbokkie and Seungmin to make me one,” he replies, unphased.

“And you trust them that much?”

At the same time, the two of them glance over to the kitchen. You follow their gaze to find Felix, Seungmin, as well as Jisung mixing together a concoction that looks not only toxic, but also disgusting. You want to gag when you see them add in soju, hot sauce, milk, and maraschino cherries in quick succession. That’s not even considering whatever they’ve already put into the cup before you looked over. There's no way they actually think the combination could taste good and Minho must agree because he stands up and starts stalking towards them, swearing to himself the whole time.

After Minho leaves, Chan wanders a bit closer to you and brushes a hand against your shoulder lightly. You have to fight the urge to lean into his touch.

“I told you, I got you tonight. Don't worry about your brother breathing down your neck,” he says lowly. Just like when he first promised to distract your brother, Chan winks at you, then follows after Minho.

You force yourself not to stare after him, cheeks flushing as the rest of the girls squeal. Some of your friends have met Minho in passing a couple times, but not any of his friends. Your brother's dance crew has become wildly popular this year, but luckily it's not widely known that you are close with them. You prefer to keep it that way, but it seems like revealing your relation to them is unavoidable tonight. It's just your luck that some of these girls are among the ‘fans’ that your brother has somehow amassed.

“Y/nnie,” a girl beside you pouts. “How come you've never mentioned you know Lee Minho and Bang Chan before? I can't believe you've never introduced him to us!”

“I-” you splutter, still flustered by how close Chan was to you.

“I saw you show up with all eight of them,” another girl interupts. Someone else gasps as if you've committed a serious crime. “You actually know them?”

“Well, yeah-”

“I heard that you called Minho oppa, are you two dating?” the first girl asks.

“What? No!” you quickly deny, disgusted by the very thought of that.

“Oh come on, you don't think that they're ridiculously attractive?” someone else chimes in. The whole group murmurs in agreement. They have more and more questions for you and start to talk over each other.

“Minho's my brother! As in, we share the same parents, that’s why I call him oppa.” you exclaim, before things can spiral further. “And ew, he is definitely not attractive!”

The group is stunned into silence for a moment before exploding in noise. There are girls offended on Minho’s behalf, some asking what him and his friends are like, and others who beg you to introduce them.

Your best friend chooses that moment to speak up, reminding you why she is one of your favourite people in the world.

“Let’s play a drinking game!” she exclaims loudly. She holds up a couple bottles of soju that you’re not sure where she’s been hiding and starts filling up everyone’s cup. Luckily the girls are easily distracted by alcohol, enough that the topic is changed without too much of a fuss. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

—

After a few drinks, you eventually excuse yourself to the bathroom. You’re definitely on your way to being tipsy, but not enough that you feel unsteady on your feet. The loud music makes it a bit difficult to focus and people have filled every corner of the house, but you’re somehow able to find an unoccupied bathroom.

You take an extra moment to splash yourself with water before you leave, you’re feeling a bit sticky from sweating and when one of your friends spilled a bit of their drink on you. When you finish, you swing open the door and immediately apologise when you narrowly miss hitting a guy who has been waiting in the hall. He waves it off, but doesn’t make a move to enter the bathroom, instead stepping a bit closer to you.

“What’s a pretty little girl like you doing here all on her own?” he slurs, crowding further into your personal space. It’s dark, but you can still tell that his eyes are red and unfocused and hair is matted to his forehead. He's drunk.

You swallow hard, trying not to panic. You have to treat this situation delicately and somehow make your disinterest clear without provoking or offending him.

“I’m not alone.” You can’t help but laugh nervously, taking a step back. Your stomach churns when your shoulder knocks into the wall behind you and you realise you have nowhere else to go. “My friends are actually probably wondering what’s taking me so long, I’ll just-”

“S’okay, I’m sure they wouldn’t notice if you were gone a little longer.” He leans in until he’s close enough that you can smell the sourness of his sweat and the alcohol on his breath. “I just wanna get t’know you a bit better.”

He smiles down at you in a way that he must think is attractive. It makes you want to vomit.

“No thanks, I’m just going to head-” Your voice is shrill with panic, you can barely recognize it.

You try to shuffle to the side, but the guy slaps his hand against the wall, trapping you even more. Your heartbeat pounds in your chest. He reaches out and traces one of your cheeks with a clumsy hand, ignoring the way that you cringe away.

“Aww c’mon darling, don’t be like that. I can promise you a good time.”

You know a bit of self defense, but this is far from a fair fight. This guy is significantly taller than you and probably double your weight. Even drunk, he can likely overpower you without even trying.

Before you can make a move, an arm slings around the drunk guy’s shoulder, jostling him to the side. Your heart sinks. There was a small chance that you’d have been able to escape, but not if you’re outnumbered.

“Hey mate,” the new person says. Your head shoots up at the familiar voice. Chan. “You seem pretty sloshed.”

Chan nudges the guy again, this time creating a little space that makes you feel less trapped. His body language is loose and relaxed, but the expression on his face is another story. His gaze is intense as he scans you, softening by a fraction when you nod that you’re fine.

“M’not,” the guy argues. He squints up at Chan. “Do I even know you? Get lost, I’m busy right now.”

“Why don’t you go outside and get some air? It’s gotten pretty stuffy in here.” It’s not a suggestion. Chan’s words are friendly, but the tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine.

The guy opens his mouth, likely to protest, but promptly shuts it when he sees the look on Chan’s face. The two of you watch as he stumbles away without a fight, bumping into a few other people in his haste to leave. Now that you’re alone, Chan backs up, giving you more space to breathe.

“Sorry about that,” Chan says, hand scratching at the back of his neck nervously. “Didn't want to be too aggressive. It just- you looked like you needed some help.”

“Some people just don’t know how to take no for an answer,” you say quietly. It’s just another thing to be grateful for when Chan doesn’t comment on the shakiness of your voice. Instead, his expression darkens further before he composes himself.

“Are you okay?” he asks tentatively.

“Yeah, you came at just the right time.” You look away, a bit embarrassed that he had to step in and rescue you, but he puts a finger under your chin and uses it to turn your face back to him. It feels so different from when the drunk guy touched you that you don’t want him to stop. His eyes search yours for a moment and whatever he finds must satisfy him.

“You should probably rejoin your friends.” Chan starts to step away, but you reach out and snag his sleeve before he can go.

“Chan-oppa.”

He pauses, turning back to look at you again.

“Yeah?” There’s a hopeful lilt to his voice, although you’re not sure what he’s hoping you say.

“Please don’t tell my brother about this,” you plead. Chan’s expression drops a little, clearly that’s not what he wanted to hear, but he’s still quick to reassure you.

“No, yeah, of course. I won’t say anything.”

“I don’t want him to worry about me.”

“Of course,” Chan repeats.

“And… thank you.” You rise up on your toes and kiss his cheek quickly, then slip away towards where your friends are before you can see what his reaction is.

—

It takes a few days for you to recover from the party. You hadn’t drunk enough to be hungover, but just remembering your interaction with Chan makes you want to bury yourself in your bed and never leave. Luckily Minho hasn't questioned your change in behaviour much, but you can tell that he's getting sick of your wallowing, even if he doesn't know the reason behind it.

“Yah, Y/n-ah!” Minho bangs on your door. “We’re heading out for gukbap in 5 minutes, are you coming?”

He doesn’t specify who the ‘we’ is, you know who to expect. Of course, Chan is included. It’s easy to make a decision.

“Go without me!” you yell back.

“Eh? Open up.”

“Just come in, it’s unlocked.”

You hear the door open and Minho approaches. He prods at your prone form with one of his feet.

“What’s up with you? You never say no to gukbap.”

“Nothing!” you groan.

“You’ve been acting strange since that stupid party, what are you hiding?” He pokes at you again, this time a bit harder.

“Oppa,” you complain, lifting yourself out of your blankets to swat at his foot. “I promise that I have nothing to hide, I just don’t feel like hanging out with your friends today.”

“They haven’t done anything, have they?” Minho asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Channie-hyung asked me if you were doing okay.”

“No! I-” you choke on your spit in your haste to answer, leading to a coughing fit that leaves you with tears gathering in your eyes. You clear your throat roughly then continue. “No, Chan-oppa and the rest of your friends have all been nice to me.”

“Oppa?”

Whoops, you hadn’t meant for that to slip out.

“What?” you whine. “You’re the one who forces me to hang out with them all the time! You told me to stop being so formal around them. They kept telling me too, it got really annoying.”

“Hmm,” Minho huffs, not quite convinced.

“Really,” you insist. “I just don’t want to go out today, I promise.”

“Okay,” Minho says reluctantly before he gets uncharacteristically serious. “But you know, you're my little sister, you can always come to me if something or someone is bothering you right?”

“I- yeah of course, oppa.” You feel kind of touched, not used to Minho openly showing that he cares about you, even though you know he does. It's enough that your throat feels tight with emotion, but you force yourself to speak through it. “Thank you. I always know that I can count on you.”

“I'm the only one allowed to mess with you,” he says sweetly, ruffling your hair so that it sticks up the way he knows you hate. “If anyone else does, I'll make sure that they regret the day that they were born.”

You try to ignore the guilt that curls in your stomach as you watch Minho leave. You hate hiding things from him, but you're still confused by your own emotions and you're worried by how he'll react. Minho has always been your biggest supporter in everything except for your love life, which he is strictly against no matter how much you try to reason with him.

You can’t imagine how much worse it would be if he found out that the person you’re interested in is one of his friends. You’ve heard him warn the whole group that you were off limits. He’d use a joking tone, but everyone knew that he was actually serious about it.

In the end, it doesn’t even matter because you’re almost certain that nothing will ever come of your feelings, Chan is way out of your league so there’s no point in even imagining a relationship together.

—

Unsurprisingly, your attempts to avoid Chan fail pretty much instantly. You're not sure how the stars aligned exactly opposite to what you were hoping, but the studio that Minho's (and therefore Chan's) dance crew uses had a schedule conflict that ended up shifting their practice times.

To your dismay, it works out so that multiple times a week, you're leaving campus at the exact same time as your brother. That in itself is not much of an issue, it's the fact that Chan lives close enough to you that the three of you commute back together. To make matters worse, Minho always invites Chan over to have dinner and Chan always accepts.

You can't fault Minho though, you know that he invites him over partly because he wants to hang out with Chan and partly because he knows that Chan might end up working throughout the night in an empty apartment and completely forget to eat. It does also bring you comfort, knowing that Chan is being cared for, that he's eating well and taking time in his day to not worry about school or dance. It's also nice for you, you've grown so used to preparing and eating dinner on your own that it's started to feel more like a chore than something to look forward to.

It's just hard. You haven't had a private conversation with Chan since the party, but you know that he wants to talk to you.

You were so sure that he would never reciprocate your feelings, but now, you're starting to doubt yourself.

While you're on the bus home, listening to your music, you sometimes glance over to find Chan staring at you, though he's quick to look away. When the three of you are cooking in the kitchen, he's more affectionate, resting a light hand on your waist or back when he passes behind you or nudging your shoulder playfully after he makes a joke. During dinner, he makes sure that you're also engaged in conversation, asking about your classes or the few clubs that you're involved in. He sometimes brings you and Minho little treats from the convenience store and they're always in your favourite flavours.

The thing is, Chan is friendly and generous to everyone that he meets. It's hard to tell if you're reading too much into your interactions with him or if he's actually paying you more interest than usual. You've never heard of Chan dating, actually you can't recall if any of the boys in Minho's dance crew have ever had partners, but it's not for a lack of interested parties.

At times, it feels so impossible that you're embarrassed to even admit to yourself how much you like Chan. You're not blind, you know that there's a fair share of girls who are just as delusional as you are, giggling when he looks over and insisting to their friends that he's interested in them because he helped open the door for them or waved as he walked past.

In fact, some of the very moments that you keep closest to your heart sound so similar to experiences that you've heard other girls gushing about that you hate yourself for having hope that Chan would be interested in you of all people.

It's easier to pretend that there's nothing going on between the two of you. You know that if you were to confess your feelings to Chan, something you would never do, that he would be nice about it. You can almost imagine it, how flustered he would be, making up some kind of excuse about not being interested in dating because he was too devoted to school and dance. He would promise not to tell your brother about it and assure you that it wouldn't change the way that he treats you.

You've run through this hypothetical situation so many times that not only have you experienced enough mortification for a lifetime, but you've convinced yourself even further to lock your feelings up inside of you. There's no point in confessing when you're so sure that nothing will ever come from it.

—

One day, Chan is over as usual and the three of you are cooking in your tiny kitchen, elbows bumping and arms reaching over as everyone tries to make do with the small space available.

The food is almost ready when Minho's phone rings, the special song that he has saved for Jisung. He picks it up instantly, shoving the pair of chopsticks that he's using into your hands in his haste. You can't hear what Jisung says, but Minho rolls his eyes and leaves to his bedroom, lecturing Jisung about something the whole way there.

“Hey,” Chan says softly. You try to keep yourself busy, picking up dishes and putting them into the sink for washing, but he tugs at your wrist lightly so that you face him. “Is everything good with you?”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding quickly.

“You just seem, I don't know, distracted or something these days.”

“No, it's-” You take a deep breath to collect yourself. “Thank you for asking, really. But I'm fine.”

“Okay,” Chan says, still looking concerned. “Listen, I know we haven't-”

You've never been so glad to hear Minho re-enter the room.

“Eh? You guys haven't even finished with the food?” he complains in a whiny voice that he only really uses around Chan. “What have you guys been doing this whole time? Come on, Y/n-ah, go set the table. Hyung, I know you can't cook to save your life, but at least scoop out the rice into our bowls. I'm hungry!”

Chan drops the subject for the rest of the night, but you know that you’ve only delayed the conversation.

—

The next day, you wake up to a dry and achy throat. This isn’t that unusual, you suffer from seasonal allergies that sometimes block your nose and force you to breathe through your mouth as you sleep. This time, it feels different. Your throat has been bothering you more than usual the past couple of weeks and while drinking a glass of water does help you wake up, it doesn’t dull the pain that persists.

You shuffle out of bed to wash up, then head straight to the kitchen, brewing yourself a steaming mug of yuja tea. The taste is comforting, but doesn't help as much as you hoped it would.

You get ready for school quickly, hoping to leave before Minho wakes up. You know that your classes start before him today, but he's always been an early riser, preferring to work out or spend time in the dance studio before it gets too busy.

“Y/n-ah,” Minho calls out, right as you're starting to put on your shoes. “You were going to leave without saying bye?”

“I didn’t know if you were awake,” you say, wincing when your voice still sounds rough.

“You didn’t even check.” Minho steps out of his room and unlocks the front door for you as you pull on your backpack.

“I was in a rush-” you start to say, but the rest of your sentence doesn’t manage to make its way out. Clearing your throat only irritates it further, triggering a cough that you can’t contain.

“Y/n,” Minho says, genuine concern shining in his eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”

He raises a hand to your forehead, but you slap it away weakly before he can check your temperature.

“I'm fine, I just have this stupid sore throat that won’t go away,” you reassure him. “I don’t think I’m sick though. The air has been so dry lately, I think I need a humidifier in my room while I sleep.”

“Aww.” Minho pinches your cheek and goes straight back to teasing you. “My delicate baby sister.”

“Ugh, forget I said anything.” You push your brother away. “Now let me go, I'm going to be late for class.”

Minho doesn't say anything in response, but the next night when you go to sleep, a new humidifier has been installed on your bedside table.

—

In the next few weeks you find that the discomfort in your throat that has been plaguing you has evolved into something else. There’s a persistent feeling of something caught in your throat and you find yourself with a lingering dry cough that no amount of tea or medication can relieve.

One night, you wake up feeling like you can't breathe. In a panic, you untangle yourself from your sheets and get yourself into a sitting position. The change in position allows a deep cough to rattle through you, enough that you’re finally able to suck in a breath.

Instead of phlegm or maybe a piece of food that could have been stuck in your throat, you feel something velvety in your mouth. You blindly reach for your bedside table to turn on your lamp and wonder if you’re still asleep when you find a single, dark red rose petal in the palm of your hand.

You squeeze your eyes shut and pinch yourself, hard, but when your eyes open, nothing has changed.

Suddenly, you’re wide awake and a cold sweat starts to form, making your pyjamas stick to your back.

You’ve heard of hanahaki disease, of course you have, but you’ve never known someone who has suffered from it.

It makes sense, you’ve had a sore, scratchy throat and dry cough for weeks now with no other cold symptoms.

You can’t believe it though.

Hanahaki disease was almost like an urban legend at this point, having been exaggerated and twisted so much in media that you’ve almost forgotten the reality of it. While most of the shows and books that cover this have a somewhat romantic take on it, declaring that it's caused by unrequited love, you know the real cause is your refusal to admit your feelings.

You knew that lying, to Chan, to your brother, to yourself, would have consequences. You had heard stories about how people who kept their feelings a secret were slowly choked by them, petals and leaves representing every time you had held yourself back.

You just never thought it would happen to you.

Sure, you were interested in Chan. You found him kind, hard-working, funny, and attractive, but it's not like you were in love with him.

You crumple the petal in your hand and throw it into your garbage can. If this is your first time finding petals, you still have months until things progress to be more serious. A part of you hopes that this was some sort of one-off, that this would be the first and last time your body creates any flowers.

You turn off the light and pull the covers tightly over your body, praying that you'll wake up in the morning and find that this was all some crazy stress-related dream.

You don’t fall asleep for the rest of the night.

—

You had thought that you were pretty good at covering up your tracks, but it doesn’t take long before Minho starts piecing things together. It doesn't help over the past few days, your symptoms have steadily worsened. You’ve found yourself coughing up petals every day, enough that you're starting to grow concerned about how quickly things are progressing.

It starts when he calls you into your shared bathroom one evening. You don’t think much of it, until you find him staring at something on the ground.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“It’s a rose petal,” you say easily, stooping down to pinch it between two fingers and dangle it in front of his face. “You’ve never seen one before?”

Minho rolls his eyes at that, swatting at you half-heartedly. You manage to dodge out of the way, but lose your grip on the petal. It flutters to the floor, but Minho swipes it out of the air.

“What’s it from? Is a boy giving you flowers?” he asks warningly, crushing the petal in his grip.

“Oppa, stop jumping to conclusions!” you groan. “It’s from a bath bomb that I tried out, I guess I missed this one when I was cleaning up.”

“Since when do you take baths?”

“Since I got a bunch of bath bombs on sale. I thought it would be relaxing.” This time you’re the one rolling your eyes. “But if I knew that it would lead to you interrogating me, I wouldn’t have bothered buying them in the first place.”

“Fine, sorry, just- just clean up next time you’re going to make a mess in the bathroom,” Minho says, before throwing the petal at you and leaving you alone.

You watch as the petal falls onto the tiles, crumpled into a little ball from being in Minho’s fist. When you reach out to pick it up, your fingers are trembling. You’ve never been a good liar, but it seems that at least this time, your acting skills have been good enough to fool Minho.

You hear the front door close and you finally give in to the cough that you've been trying to suppress the whole conversation.

Tears spring to your eyes, but you can't stop the coughs that wrack your body. This time, even after you spit out a couple of petals, it still feels like there’s something stuck in your throat. After what feels like forever, that something dislodges and you find yourself holding a tiny rosebud complete with a short stem.

You stare at it in horror, you haven’t had more than petals until now. There’s a deep sense of dread that fills you. You thought that you’d have more time, it hasn’t even been a month since you had started coughing up anything.

You throw the flower into the toilet, flushing quickly so that the red petals swirl out of sight. Even after you rinse your mouth, there’s a tinge of iron that lingers.

—

You don't often visit the boys when they're at dance practice, in fact you actively avoid going to the studio. It's one thing to know that their dance crew is quite popular and another to experience it yourself.

But today you don't have much of a choice, in your rush to leave for an early lab, you completely forgot to pack an assignment that was due the same morning and had begged Minho to bring it to campus for you. You were lucky that he hadn't left the apartment yet, but he only brought it on the condition that you brought him coffee and picked your assignment up from him directly.

It's just before 10am when you head over, which means that there's a lot of students waiting for their dance class to start, but it still surprises you to find a fairly significant crowd outside of the studio that Minho had texted you to go to. You can hear music faintly from the closed door and, as you push your way closer, find that there's a large horizontal window that has caught everyone's attention.

You get more than a fair share of dirty looks as you squeeze through the crowd and one girl even stops you as you move to open the door.

“Sorry, excuse me,” you say politely.

“You're not allowed in,” she says in a haughty voice. Her acrylic nails bite into your arm, surprisingly strong for how thin she is. “Their practice isn't over.”

“You're not allowed in, I don’t need an invitation,” you say under your breath, rolling your eyes. You must not have said it quietly enough because she gasps dramatically.

“Please, you think you're special?” She looks you up and down dismissively. “You wish any of the boys would talk to someone like you.”

“You must be referring to yourself, they would never want to have to associate with someone as desperate and pathetic as you,” you snap, shouldering your way past her. She squeals, but finally lets go of you, maybe hoping that you'll get in trouble for interrupting.

You open the door just enough to slide through and carefully close it behind you so that you don’t disturb them. It’s mesmerizing, watching them all dance. They’ve been together for so long that it looks so natural for them to move in sync, although you know it’s more to do with long hours of practice and Minho’s eagle eyes pointing out any mistakes.

None of the boys notice you at first, caught up in the chorus of the song that they're practicing, but Jeongin catches sight of you after a moment.

“Noona!” he says excitedly, abandoning the dance to run over to you. “Is that coffee for me?”

“Innie if you drink that coffee you will not survive long enough for the caffeine to make it into your bloodstream,” your brother warns from across the room.

Jeongin falters at that, but when you shake the cup enticingly in front of him, he throws caution to the wind and takes a sip.

“Yah! What did I say, Yang Jeongin?” Is the only warning Jeongin gets before he’s chased around the room by an angry Minho. The familiar chaos is almost enough to lift your mood and make you forget about the terrible interaction you had outside.

“You look annoyed, did something happen?” Chan asks, approaching you from where he had gone to turn off the music on his laptop. You curse how observant he is, you thought you had done a pretty good job of hiding how you felt.

“Nothing, just had a weird encounter with a defensive fan out there. It's like you guys are idols or something” you joke, nodding your head towards the window where people are watching curiously. You can still feel the sting from the girl’s nails digging into your wrist and when you lift it up to examine it more closely, see a little bit of blood beading at the deepest crescents.

“They’re not fans,” Chan says in disgust, before he does a double take. “I- you’re bleeding?”

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, wiping at the wounds but only succeeding at smudging the blood so that it looks even worse. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Come here, we have a first aid kit somewhere. We don’t want it to get infected.”

Chan takes your hand delicately, making sure to avoid the inflamed areas, and leads you over to the bench closest to where all their bags are piled up. You sneak a glance over to the girl that stopped you and can’t help but feel smug when you find her, pale and slack-jawed. Chan sits you down, only leaving your side to pull the blinds down on the window and dig around until he finds the first aid kit.

“Sorry, it might sting a bit,” Chan apologises as he pulls out the disinfectant wipes.

You peek at Chan and your breath catches in your throat at how concentrated he looks, brows slightly furrowed as he tries to gently dab at the scratches. Most of his hair is hidden under a baseball cap, but you can see a little duck tail forming at the base of his neck which draws attention to the trails of sweat that disappear under the collar of his shirt. You must make some kind of noise, because Chan looks up, eyes wide with concern.

“Sorry, does it hurt a lot?”

“No, you're good,” you say, cheeks flushing.

“I’m almost done,” he says, searching around for a bandage. He’s just finished applying it, tongue sticking out in concentration, when you hear someone else approach.

“What's going on here?” Minho asks.

“Nothing!” you say at the same time that Chan says, “I was just helping Y/n put on a bandage.”

“Did you hurt yourself?” Minho's eyes widen and he reaches out to take a look at your wrist, even though he won't be able to see anything under the bandage. You pull your sleeve down and stand up in a rush.

“It’s nothing, really oppa! I'm sorry, I have to go, my class is starting soon!” you call out, lying through your teeth as you run out of the room, clutching your assignment. “Thank you, Channie-oppa!”

You rush into the nearest bathroom, not even caring that there are people in the other stalls, and throw up an explosion of petals. By the time that you finally make it to class, just in time, your throat stings more than the wound on your wrist.

—

You start trying to avoid Minho and well, you never really stopped in your attempts to avoid Chan.

You leave early in the morning, only come back well after the sun has set, and do everything in your power to contain your cough when you're at home.

You know you're not solving the problem, only prolonging it, but every conversation, every lie, seems to accelerate the growth of the roses that have taken up residence in your lungs. You know that it's not helping, that keeping this secret is just strengthening the flowers that are slowly choking you. It's just that no matter how many conversations you've rehearsed in your head or text that you've drafted, something seems to stop you.

You're just so so scared that waking up with a mouthful of petals and thorns, bloody coughing fits that you can't prevent, and the raspy tone of your voice that has developed is preferrable.

As much as you hate him sometimes, you've looked up to your brother for your whole life. You don't know what you would do without him that the thought of losing him terrifies you beyond belief.

You don't always get what you want, though. It's not long until Minho confronts you again.

It's not really a surprise, when you look in the mirror these days, you're shocked by your appearance. Your face is pale and drawn, you have deep bags from not being able to sleep at night, and you've lost weight since most solid food irritates your throat enough to trigger a coughing fit. Add that to the fact that you know your apartment's walls are paper thin which means it's impossible that your brother can't hear you coughing at all hours of the day.

“Y/n-ah. I know that you're not doing well right now. Don't even try to deny it,” Minho says. He closes his eyes for a moment before seemingly deciding something. “I- you don't have to tell me what it is. I would prefer it if you did, but just- what can I do to help?”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself to reassure him that you're fine, but regret it when you start choking instead. You lurch upright and head directly to the bathroom, Minho trailing behind you worriedly.

“I-” Trying to talk just makes it worse. You're used to it now, the way that the thorns seem to claw at your throat on their way up, how even the brush of soft petals against the raw flesh hurts, the metallic taste that you can't seem to get rid of no matter how many times you wash your mouth. Still, it doesn't make it easier.

Minho watches in silence as you heave over the toilet. He puts a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles to try and soothe some of your pain. Your eyes water, partially from coughing and partly because you're mortified that your brother is finally witnessing this.

You throw up finally, mostly petals and blood, which is a relief. The stems have been the most painful by far, each thorn digging into the already abused flesh of your throat.

When you finally finish rinsing your mouth, he's holding out a tissue which you accept gratefully. Minho doesn't comment until you've finally caught your breath.

“Y/n-ah-”

“Yeah,” you say miserably, tearing at the leftover tissue in your hand. Your voice both sounds and feels like you've been swallowing gravel. “Hanahaki, who would have guessed that I'd be a romantic at heart?”

You laugh weakly. Minho doesn't.

“I knew it. All those times you locked yourself in the bathroom with the water running… That stupid bath bomb story you told me… I hear you up at all hours, coughing your lungs out… You’ve been hiding it this whole time, haven’t you?” he accuses you.

“I can explain-”

“Go on then,” Minho says impatiently.

“I- It's-” You bury your face in your hands, unable to get the words out. “It's stupid.”

“Y/n-ah, it's obviously not stupid. Whatever it is, it's bothering you enough that it's hurting you physically.”

“I like someone,” you say in a small voice. “Okay? That's it.”

“Why won't you tell them?” Minho demands. “Why won't you tell me who it is?”

“No, I can't. There’s no point, it wouldn't work out,” you insist, shaking your head.

“What are you talking about? No point? Y/n, can't you see it's killing you.” You've never heard Minho sound so desperate. He's angry, he's frustrated, but most of all, he's scared, you realise.

“Oppa-” you say cautiously, but you're interrupted by yet another coughing fit. You can't hide it from your brother when the tissue that you've used to cover your mouth is tinged red by the time you're done. You can feel there's still something lodged in your throat, it takes everything in you to ignore the urge to continue coughing to try and get it out.

“I can't lose you, Y/n,” he whispers. Your eyes widen when you realise his are filled with tears. You don't think you've ever seen Minho cry. “I can't let you do this to yourself, please.”

“I need more time-”

“You don’t have time!” Minho interrupts frantically. “Have you even seen a doctor about this?”

You look away guiltily at the question.

“No, but-”

“Are you kidding me?” Minho says exasperatedly. “We’re booking you an appointment right now.”

“Is it going to make a difference? I know what’s wrong-” As if to prove your point, you can’t stop yourself from coughing again. “It's not that bad yet, oppa,” you lie, the croakiness of your voice giving you away.

“Y/n-”

“I promise! I promise that I am trying my best. I- if it doesn't get better, I'll see a doctor in two weeks.”

“Not good enough, Y/n-ah. If you can't tell me, at least talk to whoever you like,” he pleads.

“Fine,” you say. “I- I'll talk to him in the next few days. And if the flowers don't go away, then I will see a doctor.”

Minho lets out a heavy sigh of relief, pulling you into his arms for a tight hug. You try your best to sink into his embrace, but just can't ignore the guilt that seems to consume you.

—

Chan catches you outside your last lecture that night. You're not sure how exactly he found out your schedule, but you exit the lecture hall to find him leaning against the wall directly across from the doors.

It could just be that he knows someone else taking this course or that he has a class in the same room, but somehow you know that he's waiting for you. Not ready for this conversation, you try to keep your head down to pass by unnoticed, but you know that he's spotted you when he calls out your name.

“Hey.” Chan reaches out, tugging on your sleeve without actually touching you. You turn around, stomach sinking slightly. Yes, you had promised your brother that you'd confess to Chan, but you didn't think it would happen so soon. “You're heading home right?”

“Yeah,” you say warily. “What's up?”

“I'm going back too, can we walk together?”

“Sure,” you agree slowly, not able to think of a way to get out of this situation.

The two of you walk in silence towards your bus stop. Chan's being uncharacteristically awkward and you're not sure what to expect.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he says suddenly.

“Okay?”

Chan stays quiet for so long that you’re about to ask if he’s okay.

“I like you,” he blurts out, right as you open your mouth to speak.

“What?” Of everything he could have said, this is what you're expecting the least. There’s no way that you heard him correctly, you must need to get your ears checked.

“I like you,” Chan repeats. You blink up at him, stunned. “But if you don't feel the same way, it's- don't worry about it. I promise that I'll respect it. I'll back off and everything will stay the same. I just wanted to get it off my chest. And maybe, I don't know if I was just making things up, but I thought that you liked me too?”

“You can't,” is all that escapes your mouth.

“I… can't like you?” Chan asks, baffled.

“No, it's- you can't- we can't,” you stammer. “My brother-"

“What, you think I'm afraid of Minho-ya?” Chan asks cockily, raising an eyebrow in a way that you can't help but find attractive.

“I just- he always said-”

“Y/n-ah,” Chan says gently. “I like you and I don't care what your dumb brother thinks. He can complain all he wants, but as long as you're happy, I'm happy. And-”

“You actually like me?” you interrupt.

“Yes, is it really so hard to believe?”

“I just always thought, you only saw me as Minho-oppa's baby sister,” you say glumly, kicking at the ground.

“I did when you were younger for sure,” Chan laughs. “But since university, I feel like I've actually gotten to know the real you, to see how funny, talented, kind, and thoughtful you are. I like you for you, not because I'm friends with your brother.”

“But there's so many other girls you could choose from that are much prettier or smarter than me,” you argue, still not wanting to get your hopes up.

“Y/n-ah, are you actually trying to convince me not to like you?” Chan pouts. “If you don't feel the same way, just say so, it's okay.”

“No! I-” you trail off, suddenly feeling incredibly shy.

“You what?” Chan prompts you gently.

“I like you too.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but you know that he's heard you from the smile that grows on his face.

“What was that?” Chan asks cheekily.

“I said I like you too!” you say louder this time, before hiding your face in your hands so that you don't have to look at Chan.

Even though you're beyond embarrassed, you feel better than you have in a long time, giddy with the idea that Chan actually reciprocates your feelings.

But when you breathe in, instead of relief, there's still that familiar tightness in your chest.

You have to talk to Minho, you realise. As much as you've been keeping it a secret from Chan, you know that a majority of your inner turmoil stems from hiding our feelings from the closest person in your life. You had hoped that talking to Chan would instantly cure your hanahaki, but clearly you were wrong.

—

For the first time in weeks, you purposely seek out Minho. Luckily, you don't have to look far, when you get home, Minho is stretched out on the couch watching anime.

“I told him,” you say. Minho immediately sits upright, turning his attention to you. “The guy I like. But it didn’t help, the flowers are still-”

“And he feels the same way?” Minho interrupts you.

“I- yes, he’s the one that confessed first.”

“Wow,” Minho whistles. “Who’s crazy enough to have feelings for you?”

You had already made up your mind that you had to tell your brother, but his reaction makes you even more confident in your decision. Maybe it's the way that Minho is treating this so lightly, but you’re no longer nervous to say it out loud.

“It's Chan-oppa,” you say, bracing yourself.

“Chan?” Minho repeats, shell shocked.

“Channie-hyung? Like-” he takes out his phone and pulls up the photo he has of Chan in his contacts.

Chan has the craziest bedhead and his face is puffy from sleep in the photo. He's squinting up at the camera, a hand coming up to try and block his face. He looks adorable.

Minho watches your face carefully as you visibly melt a bit looking at the picture.

“You really do like him, huh,” he says in a quiet voice, no longer joking around. “This whole time?”

“Yeah.” You look down. “I'm sorry.”

“That's it? That's the person you've been so scared of telling me that you liked?"

“I- yes? You don't think it's weird?” you ask tentatively, looking back up at your brother. “The two of us being together? He's one of your best friends.”

“Oh no, it’s definitely weird.” Minho laughs. “I do not understand it at all. But Y/n, Channie-hyung is one of the few people in my life that I trust. Do I want him to be dating my baby sister? Of course not! I don't want you to be dating anyone. Do I think he’s out of his mind for being interested in you? Definitely.”

“Hey!” you interject. Minho carries on like he can’t hear you.

“Do I think he fully understands that if he hurts you in any way, directly or indirectly, on purpose or on accident, that I will hunt him down and make him regret the fact that he ever existed in the first place? Yes, I think he knows.”

“Oppa,” you say in horror. “You will not give your best friend the shovel talk.”

“I don’t have to.” Minho smiles brightly, a picture of innocence if you didn’t know him. “My reputation precedes me. Channie-hyung's one of my closest friends, he would never expect anything less from me.”

“Oppa-”

“Y/n-ah,” Minho softens his voice. “I also know that of all the people that I've ever met, Channie-hyung is one that is least likely to ever hurt you. I trust him, but I also want you to know that I trust your judgement.”

You look away, sniffing. You never could have imagined that Minho would accept your relationship so easily that it's making you feel emotional.

“Aigoo, Y/nnie,” Minho coos. He pulls you into a tight hug, ignoring the way that tears finally escape from you and stain his shirt. “You were really worried about this, weren't you?”

You nod into his shoulder, unable to provide a verbal response.

“I'm sorry that I made you feel like you couldn't tell me about this. It's definitely going to take a bit of time to get used to it, but I'm happy for you, really. I know I can seem overbearing sometimes, but I just worry.”

“I didn't want you to be upset at Channie-oppa or me,” you murmur. “I didn't want to do anything to hurt your friendship. I didn't want to hurt our relationship.”

“Y/n-ah,” Minho says gently, but firmly. “I want you to know that there is nothing that could hurt our relationship. You're my baby sister, I'm always going to love you.”

After months of keeping all your feelings bottled up, of denying your feelings for Chan, of dreading Minho’s reaction, you’ve felt a constant dread, guilt filling your insides. Now, you’re just filled with an overwhelming sense of relief. It’s as if an enormous weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

It feels like you can breathe again.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

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hel1nn · 2 months ago

Text

Oh my good looking boy

︵⠀satoru gojo x fem reader ⠀◌Ⳋ𝅄

ꉂ`🍥 ⋮ fluff | smut nd 18+ content | cursed words | bf!toru to hubby toru:( |

Inspired by : good looking by suki waterhouse

His hair

After a long day at your school your finally able to cuddle your baby..oh satoru. His face is buried in your chest, you holding him as close as you can. Satoru and you have been dating almost a year. Both of you had never talked so much about some personal topics but. Whenever you see satoru coming back from one of his missions, not all the time but when you notice the tiredness in him your heart somehow sinks. He's still just a boy. A teen. Today is one of those days. Your usually the small spoon when it comes to cuddling but seeing him like this, you decided to hold him today, Whispering sweet nothings and few quiet i love you's. Your hand buried in his white locks. You press a kiss on top of his head, massaging his scalp. His six eyes were the reason of his almost unbearable headaches. But your alway there for him to make it bearable. His strawberry flavoured shampoo's smell fills your nose. Satoru softly groans, burying his face further in your chest. You smile before placing another kiss on top of his head, resting your chin on top of his head. Hus fluffy locks tickling your chin slightly but you don't care. All that matters right now is satoru. Your beloved.

His hands

Your sitting on satorus lap as satoru focuses on his paper work, his free hand interwind with yours. You had nothing to do for now but satoru had so many things to do. Yet all satoru wants is you. So here you are. Sitting on his lap as he fills uo the paper works. It kinda felt ridiculous yet your happy. Happy to be close to him. You snuggle closer to him. Tracing his veins on his hands, trailing up to his forearm then to his long fingers. Bringing his fingers up to your lips you press a small kiss on his pretty knuckles. You hear satoru chuckle slightly,he shifted his attention to you. Cupping your cute face in his free hand as he tilts your face,your eyes landing on his beautiful face

"you could ask for a kiss you know" satoru teases and you roll your eyes playfully, failing to stop the sweer smile appeared on your lips.

"then... just give me one already" you boop his nose with yours. Satoru grins, tenderly caressing your cheek before he leans down to kiss you.

His lips.

The room was filled with the heavy breathing of you and him sharing the first kiss of your relationship. Satoru looked like virgin fucking for the first time. (He is a virgin.) The little peck turned into making out. His tongue dancing with yours as he presses his lips to yours,you moaned in his mouth. His arm wrapped around you and you tenderly holding his face, pulling him closer. Both of your bodies pressed against eachother. You nibble on his lower lip gently and the pathetic whimper comes out of satorus mouth. God. You loved his lips. His lips were soft,sweet. Just testing like the candies you sneakily give him during classes. Your first lovely doubly make out session was going okay until the room's door slams open. A angry sugur standing there. The horror on both of your face was enough to make suguru laugh but he didn't. You and satoru now sitting beside eachother.

"you thought hiding in y/n's dorm would save you from me after leaving my clean room into a mess!!" suguru shouts, pulling satorus ear as if its a stretching toy or something, totally ignoring the seen he saw after coming in your room. You sigh,not knowing what to say. Satoru cries out in pain dramatically.

"suguru...dont be this much harsh.." you mumble out, trying to save satoru. Just then satoru pulls away pouting like a puppy who got scolded for eating food from dustbin. Hiding behind you. You slightly smiled just holding his hand.

"suguru, forgive him for now!" You simply said,suguru still thinks how do tou deal with a man like satoru..*pheww*

His eyes

"Your sure about this? I don't want to if you're uncomfortable.."

Satoru asks for the who knows how many time. You sigh, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Your hand rests on his bare chest. "Iam,toru. Or else i wouldn't have want this in the first place."

And here you two are.

His hips are gently thrusting into yours, his cologne filling up your nose strils. You gasp as he's long cock slides in and out from your tight hole. Your clinging onto him for dear life. Satoru's breaths are coming out shallow. Whimpering as your pretty hole clenches around him. Your eyes are clench shut as you feel him lean down to kiss you. Just then you hear a sniffle,yiur eys shots open,seeing a tear running down satoru's cheek as he his blue irises looks at you. You perk up on your elbow and cup his face in your hand, worry all over your face

"toru why are you cry-"

"your so pretty" satoru sobs out, leaning down to press soft kisses in your neck. His arms wraps around you, holding your bare body in against his warm chest. Your eyes wide in surprise,your face against rests,as a soft smile appears on your face. You again lay down on the bed, now holding in against you as he's sobs slowed downs slowly.

"your pretty too toru..* you coo looking at him,he pulls away to see your face. His blue eyes in the dark room looking like the brightest stars in the night sky. Oh..just like an angel. You don't know how but it starts to make sense slowly..satoru looks at you the same way, but with all these happening right he felt way too much lucky. "No your prettier" satoru pouts,you laugh softly caressing his cheek

"for you i am anything..toru" and then both of you continue your love making. His cock that was resting inside starts to thrust like before again. With so much love.

Him.

You stare at the white haired man in Infront of you. The veli on your face slightly making it difficult to see satoru. Your finally going to be his properly,satoru thinks is that how beautiful you were all the time? He always thought your soo much beautiful to him but today it kinda felt different. You looked like and angel who came from the sky to take hik away from thus cruel world. The white wedding dress on you looking perfect,the one satoru choosed it for you. The bouquet of blue roses in your hand,the shy look and blush on your face. The way you hair was styled. Everything felt like a dream. A dream he always had. Getting married to the woman he loves. His vision slightly gets blurred,the tears peaking out of hus eyes. He sees the cute smile on your face turns into worry

"s-satoru-"

"god your so beautiful.." satoru says before breaking into tears finally, cupping your face. He wants to kiss you,so bad. Kiss away the worry on your face. Somehow the worry on your face turns into a small smile, you giggle before speaking. Little tear peaking in the corner of your eyes

"maybe i wil cry soon because i am finally going to be yours."

A/N : sorry if i made mistakes and English isn't my first language:) posting drabbles since i am still working on the next chapter of my this series

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writing-imagines · 1 year ago

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Even Mean Girls Cry // Regina George

Summary: After hooking up with Regina for a year, you finally get to see her vulnerable side after The Plastics reject her at lunch.

Possible warnings: light swearing, bullying, and Regina being Regina

Pairing: Regina George x gender!neutral reader (readers gender literally isn’t mentioned)

A/n: first fic of 2024!! I love Reneé’s Regina so feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts about her

Regina George wasn’t a good person. It was evident ever since the first grade when she told everyone that Peter Howell peed himself after she spilled apple juice on him. So, you did your best to avoid her, and her ever changing minions, every day as you grew up. When you reached high school, Regina’s antics became more frequent and hurtful. By the end of your freshman year, she had at least one embarrassing piece of information on everyone in school, yourself included.

Your streak of successfully avoiding Regina came to an end after winter break during your sophomore year. Ms. Norbury asked you to be Regina’s Intermediate Math tutor since you had the highest grades in your Algebra 2 class. You were hesitant to accept the opportunity considering Regina’s reputation, but you knew tutoring would look great on your college application. You accepted Ms. Norbury’s request and so started your relationship with Regina George.

At first, she sat across from you in the empty cafeteria after school, chomping loudly on her gum and texting a thousand words a minute. Her behavior continued every day that week and by Friday, you’d had enough.

“Regina, stop wasting my time and pay attention.” You finally snapped after she blew an obnoxiously large pink bubble with her gum. Regina’s eyes slowly rose from her phone screen to you.

“What did you just say to me?” Her eyes resting on you instantly made you lose the confidence you just had.

“Oh-I…I meant you should pay attention. I’m trying to teach you, so you don’t fail your next algebra test.” You smiled nervously as Regina’s gaze dug further into you. After a few more moments of intense staring, the blonde let out a scoff.

“You know, you’re actually kind of cute.” Her blue eyes looked you over, this time in a more flirtatious way. You felt like a lamb dangling over a hungry mountain lion.

“Thanks.” You nervously looked away and rubbed the back of your neck in an attempt to get any relief from Regina’s presence.

“So, you agree? You think you’re cute.”

“Umm…I mean, I don’t really know.” Regina’s smile softened and she looked at you as if you were a lost puppy. Without warning, the blonde stood up and made her way to your side of the table. She sat down in the seat beside you and scooted as close as she possibly could, causing your face to warm and your heart to beat faster.

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Y/n?” Regina questioned with her pointer and middle finger dancing on your thigh. Your throat went dry at the mention of the one thing you were embarrassed of. In a school full of hormonal teenagers, you were truly the only one who hadn’t kissed anyone yet. You were kicking yourself for accidentally telling Karen the sensitive information during a bonfire last year.

“You know the answer, Regina.” You said with a defeated exhale. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Regina, instead, you kept your eyes glued to the table. Suddenly, the two fingers that danced on your thigh were placed gently under your chin, forcing you to look at the blonde beside you. Her eyes were kinder, and her smile was still soft, making you feel less embarrassed.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to be embarrassed.” You didn’t say anything, instead, you softly smiled and took in Regina’s features. You had never noticed how pretty her eyes were or how full her lips were.

“Do you want to kiss me, Y/n?” Regina’s eyebrows lifted with the question. Without even thinking, you blurted out the answer.

“Yes.” You swore for a moment Regina began to blush as she pushed a few stray hairs away from her face.

“Okay. Close your eyes.”

You did as you were told. For a moment, you were worried it was all just a prank, but when you felt Regina’s lips press against yours, you knew it had to be real. You did your best to reciprocate the kiss, causing Regina to let out a small moan, which caused your stomach to flip about ten times. Suddenly, you felt Regina’s hands find your neck and her perfectly manicured nails rested on the nape of your neck, effectively pulling you in deeper.

The sound of a door slamming shut caused both of you to pull away quickly. You couldn’t help but stare at Regina with a bewildered look, seriously questioning if the kiss happened.

“Wow, you're a pretty good kisser, Nerd.”

“T-Thanks. You’re good too.” You sputtered with the most nervous tone you had ever heard from yourself. The blonde laughed before running her fingers along the edge of her lips to wipe away any smeared lip gloss.

“I know.” The two of you sat in silence for what felt like hours before Regina spoke up.

“So, I’ll see you on Monday then.” She quickly stood up and gathered her things as if nothing had happened.

“I’ll see you on Monday.” You echoed, wiping Regina’s cherry flavored lip gloss off your lips.

“Bye, Nerd.”

“Bye, Regina.”

Almost a full year later and your hookups with Regina were still going strong. In fact, ever since Cady Heron started causing drama between the girls, you had been spending all of eighth period in the back seat of Regina’s Jeep, making out like it was your last moments on earth. Not to mention, secretly hooking up with the queen bee of North Shore gave you a major confidence boost that even Regina noticed. Your relationship had even gone to the next level: texting each other about things that didn’t involve when and where to hookup.

You were sitting in Trigonometry when your phone pinged. You quickly checked it, not wanting to risk Ms. Norbury confiscating it. It wasn’t much of a surprise to see that Regina had texted you.

RG: Sweatpants are the only things that fit me right now

Y/n: So?

RG: So? Jesus Y/n. I can’t wear sweatpants to lunch!

Y/n: Because of the stupid rules YOU made?

RG: They aren’t stupid

Y/n: I’m sure it’ll be fine. The girls will understand

“Y/n, care to share with that class what on your phone is so important that you’re missing out on practice test questions?”

“No. Sorry, Ms. Norbury. It won’t happen again.”

“Good. Now, as I was saying…” You watched Ms. Norbury turn to write something on the board and quickly sent another text to Regina.

Y/n: Just got called out by Norbury for texting you. Hope you’re happy

You went the rest of class without hearing from Regina. In fact, you went most of the day without hearing from her. It was a little weird, but you knew she had a lot going on and it wasn’t like you needed constant communication with each other.

When lunch came around, it was the same old same old. You sat down with some of your other tutor friends and talked about your day. As Daisy Smith talked about her failed attempt to teach Karen about fractions, you saw Regina walk towards The Plastics. True to her word, she wore gray sweatpants that grabbed your, and several others, attention. You didn’t eye Regina for long, not wanting anyone to accuse you of being a creep or being in love with her. You looked down at your lunch only for the room to suddenly go quiet.

“You can’t sit with us!” Gretchen’s voice echoed through the silent room. No one dared to even gasp as Regina fired back.

“Sweatpants are all that fit me right now.” Even though you couldn’t see her face, you could tell Regina was talking through gritted teeth.

“What do you think, Cady?” Gretchen asked, her voice once again echoing through the room.

“Sorry, Regina. Rules are rules.” Seeing the sly look on Cady’s face made you want to march over to her and smash a tray of food in her face. You knew that would lead to a suspension, so you made a mental note to figure out some way to get back at Cady that wouldn’t result in a week off school.

“Fine.”

Regina turned around to see every eye in that room on her. You could tell by the look on her face that for once, she hated the attention. Not a single person in that room moved to make room for Regina as she walked down the aisle.

“Daisy, scoot down.” You quickly nudged the redhead to make room for Regina.

“Regina, you can sit with us.” You offered, eyes slightly full of hope that she would accept the offer and somehow make the situation better.

“I’m not sitting with you losers.” She spat out as she stormed past your table.

“What a bitch.” Glenn Coco scoffed. Your blood boiled at Glenn’s comment, but you knew you had to play it cool to avoid any suspicion.

“Guys, I forgot my math book in Ms. Norbury’s. I’m going to grab it really quick.”

You quickly got up from the table, leaving your tray behind, and stormed off to find Regina. You searched her usual hangout spots, the maintenance room and the girl’s locker room in the gym. When you didn’t find her in either place, you made your way to the only other place she could be, the parking lot.

Sure enough, as you approached her Jeep, you saw Regina sitting in the passenger seat. Even from far away, you could tell she was crying. Cautiously, you approached the car and tapped on her window. The blonde’s head instantly shot up, revealing her red eyes and mascara stained cheeks. You had never seen Regina cry before, and the sight actually shocked you to your core. Without saying a word, you walked over to the driver’s side and climbed in.

“What are you doing?” Regina questioned through sniffles as you put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot.

“I’m taking you home.” Your hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter when you noticed a picture of Regina, Karen, and Gretchen resting on her dashboard as you drove out of the parking lot.

“I don’t need you to take me home.” Regina tried to use her usual venomous tone, but it came out shaky and pitiful.

“I don’t care if you need me to. I want to take you home. That was fucking ridiculous.”

After a few minutes of silence, you looked over to see tears still rolling down Regina’s face. Based on how her bottom lip was quivering, you knew Regina really needed to cry. You carefully reached your right hand over to Regina and grabbed her hand.

“It’s okay to cry. They tried to humiliate you in front of the whole school. You don’t have to hide it from me.” You squeezed Regina’s hand, which caused her to quickly pull her hand away.

“I am not crying because of those bitches. I’m crying because all I can wear is sweatpants and my mascara is ruined.” That time Regina was able to spit out her usual venom. While her tone would intimidate most people, it let you know Regina was going to be okay.

“Those are still valid reasons to cry.” You said matter-of-factly. You felt Regina’s eyes land on you again, causing you to glance over at her.

“Why are you so nice to me all the time?”

“Because I’m a nice person.” You shrugged, not wanting to give away your true feelings for Regina.

“I think it’s because you like me.”

“And what if I did?” You replied without missing a beat. Once again, you were kicking yourself for not thinking before you spoke.

“I’d have to give you a makeover. I can’t date anyone who dresses like that.”

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?”

“Nothing, if you’re going for a grocery store clerk.” You scoffed and acted offended by Regina’s words, which made the blonde crack a smile.

“I do not dress like a grocery store clerk.”

You both chuckled as you pulled up to the George's home. You instantly took note that Mrs. George’s car was missing from the driveway.

“Do you want to come in? My mom isn’t home.” Regina looked at you with hopeful eyes. Not wanting to leave Regina alone after a traumatic event, you decided that it would be a good idea for you to stick around for a little while longer.

“Yeah, I’ll come in for a little bit.”

You turned off the car and let Regina take the lead into her home. The second the front door closed behind you, Regina took your hand and led you up to her room.

“Shoes off and get on the bed.” The blonde commanded.

“Regina, I don’t think we should-”

“Relax, Nerd. I just want you to hold me and tell me I’m pretty.”

You quickly kicked your shoes off and lied down on the right side of the bed. Once you were comfortable, Regina joined you. Within seconds, her head found a comfortable spot on your chest, resting between your jaw and collarbone. Her hand found its way down to your stomach and balled the fabric of your shirt into her hand. After Regina was comfortable, you snaked your arm around her and held her close. You couldn’t help but look down at the blonde with a smile. When she wasn’t ruining people’s lives, Regina was actually kind of sweet.

“Hey, Regina?”

“What, Nerd?”

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, I know.” You could feel Regina’s smirk against your neck, which only made you fall a little harder for her.

You laid there, holding the blonde like your life depended on it. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder about finally telling Regina how you felt about her. It seemed like a good idea, especially after a hard day, but the thought of losing her stopped you. So, you just let Regina George, the meanest girl in North Shore, sleep on your chest while you held her close.

#Regina George #Regina George x reader #Regina George imagine #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #Renee Rapp #first fic of 2024 #let’s goooo

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fuctacles · 5 months ago

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wereshifter au pt 3, but things get dumber

<<2 | 3 | 4>>

Eddie avoids the park on the next day, doesn't leave the house much at all, really, but he runs into the dog on his way out of a supermarket. He smiles involuntarily, reaching out to pet him.

"Hi, bud," he greets it, and they start the walk back to his van. But before he opens the passenger door to put the groceries there and let the dog hop in, he freezes. He looks down at his furry friend, staring at him so eagerly and with so much trust, and his heart breaks. But nevertheless, he drops his hand away from the door handle, and takes a step back.

"Listen, man," he says, then sighs before dropping to his knees to address the dog properly and look a little bit less insane while doing it. "This is stupid," he murmurs to himself, before continuing. "I can't take you with me, okay? No more house visits. I'd love to play with you at the park, or something, but you can't come with me anymore." The dog's ears drop, like he can understand everything. Eddie continues. "Turns out, one of my friends is allergic to dog fur, so I can't have you over." He reaches out, hoping the ear scratches will be enough consolation. "I know you have a family somewhere, you should go to them."

The dog huffs almost angrily at that, but seems too happy with Eddie's petting to leave. So he indulges them both with some more scratches before he stands up, hoisting the grocery bag along with him.

"See you around?" he asks, rounding the car towards the driver seat. His dog friend follows, but sits on the sidewalk to watch him enter the van. Eddie can almost sense the betrayal behind his stare. "I know, buddy, I'm sad too," he says, closing the door. They stare at each other for another second before Eddie turns on the engine and peels off.

After a week, he starts missing his little trips to the park, so he substitutes with reading a book on the porch. His free hand itches to scratch behind furry ears, so he gets some peanuts to keep it occupied instead.

He hangs out with the boys like he always does, and he spots the kids on his way there, playing with his dog friend. When he hops over to say hi, it stops in it tracks, eyeing him warily. Eddie is lowkey afraid of losing a finger but approaches the dog anyway to give him a friendly (but not overly so) scratch.

"Hi, bud. Having fun?" he asks, and the dog presses more into his hand. "Okay, okay," he chuckles, giving into the silent ask for pets. When he looks up, everyone's looking at them weirdly.

Yes, Eddie Munson likes dogs, fuck off.

He rolls his eyes and straightens up.

"Everyone good for Hellfire on Friday?"

Looks like he's found new friends already, and Eddie doesn't have to worry.

"Hello?"

"Steve! Hi!" Eddie perks up to the voice in his receiver. It feels like years since the last time he's heard Steve. "I've scrubbed the place, and myself, clean, and washed all my clothes twice."

He hears his friend snort on the other line.

"Congrats?" Steve offers, and Eddie can feel a dry smile pulling on his lips.

"Har, har, Harrington, I'm talking about your allergy. It should be safe to come over if you're still interested. Or, I could just..." He leans heavily on the wall, picking at his cuticles while he offers the less favorable option. "Home deliver you a few joints."

Sure, it would be nice to have a guy friend his age who went through the same horrors as him. But if said guy didn't feel the same, keeping a casual connection would be enough for Eddie. Maybe Steve had enough apocalypse-fighting friends of his own and didn't need one more, a loser super-super-senior trailer trash, too.

"No, dude, it's alright. I've just been busy, and kinda not feeling like myself, you know?"

Eddie wants to scream. He does know. Who else would know better, who else had his flesh eaten by demonic bats from a hell dimension?

"Uh-huh," is all he offers, though. He feels weirdly similar to that time in middle school when Cindy McGee said she didn't want to dance with him.

"I guess I just need some space?" Steve said uncertainly. "You're still invited to the end of summer pool party, of course."

Well, good to know that he could come to the party they've all promised each other as soon as both the Vecna thing and school year were over.

"Yeah, cool, quick question though." Eddie licks his lips, his anger rising. He bumps away from the wall, ready to strike and throw the phone down. "And be honest with me, because I hate liars. Are you avoiding me?"

There's silence on the other side.

"Eddie..."

"Steve," Eddie interrupts him. "I don't want bullshit. I want to know if I should fuck off. It will suck but I will take it. Just say you don't want to hang out with me. That's fine. Not the first or the last time it happened."

Steve sighs on the other end of the line.

"I do want to hang out," he says. "But I have a lot to think about and I need some space. Is that okay?"

Eddie is close to folding down, but not close enough not to add:

"Do you need space from everyone or just me?"

"Honestly? Everyone. But especially you."

That was such a stupid fucking answer Eddie had to bite his knuckle not to growl in frustration.

"Okay," he spat out, proud of himself for not yeling. "Don't tell me. Reach out whenever you feel ready." He's less proud of how he slams the phone on the cradles. He feels like shit as he looks at the machine for any damage he might have caused.

He has his answers, Steve confirmed he doesn't want to see him, and he told his dog off too. So aside from the younger members of the Party, he had only Nancy and Jonathan to talk to. Argyle too, if he was still in town. Robin was out of the question, because she would babble everything back to Steve immediately. And he wasn't ready to talk to parental figures like Joyce or Hopper yet.

Eddie takes a few calming breaths and dials another number from his list.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Eddie."

"Eddie!" Dustin's voice cheers up immediately and helps him brighten up as well. "What's up, how are you doing?"

"Eh, I'm managing." He shrugs. "Hey, do you think Steve is avoiding me?" he asks straight to the point.

Dustin groans.

"Yes!" he answers and Eddie's stomach sinks. "But he's been avoiding the rest of us too. And he's been weird for weeks now. But I promised I wouldn't tell anything." There's a frustrated groan on the other end followed by thuds, like someone was punching or kicking something close to the phone. "You have to ask him yourself. But I will grill him, and try coaxing it out of him. Give me a moment."

"No, Dustin-!" Eddie didn't want to make the situation ever more tense than it already was, but Dustin was already off with his own plan. He realizes far too late that he might not have been the best person to call.

He has half a mind to call Steve again with a warning but he doesn't want to worsen his position even further. It will be bad enough when he finds out Eddie sent Dustin after him. Maybe the best course of action is to let it play out with minimal input and whatever happens, happens. In the worst-case scenario, he still has his Corroded Coffin guys.

Eventually, he holes himself up in his room, waiting for the storm to pass.

see, and i forgot to tag, just like I said I would. Anyway: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #mine #wereshifter au #shapeshifter steve harrington #werewolf steve harrington #steddie fanfiction #ff

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rottenherbs · 1 month ago

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Matchmaker // F.W x reader

Request: it would be an honor to have a Fred Weasley x Reader wherein the reader is a matchmaker and students would often ask her for their suitable partners. But the irony is, since she's a matchmaker she can't seem to find hers (if that makes any sense), later on Fred would suddenly pop in in her life (I honestly don't know if this plot is sensible but yeah, the scene entirely up to you to alter and modify to your likings).

Word Count: 2k

Authors Note: CANONICALLY I understand that Neville asked Ginny to the Yule ball but I am re-rewriting history. And I am half sorry and half not. Also I swear i write my imagines like they are the first chapters to full fledge fan fictions.

If you want to request a second part (or more) to ANY piece of writing please do! I’d love to continue any of my pieces <3

[masterlist] ((PART TWO IN MASTERLIST)

Much Love, Saige

——————————

“I hope it works out for you.” You smile, ushering the young student off. “But if not, I'm not liable!” You mumbled lightly under your breath. They turned around for a moment, unsure if they heard you correctly; giving you a look of disbelief before quickly turning out of sight.

You relaxed your shoulders, letting your smile fall as soon as they left, closing your eyes for a moment before straightening your posture, ready to do it all again.

”Next please!” You adjusted the papers in front of you awkwardly as the next student walked in. A small brown haired boy, shuffling in short choppy steps, quickly making their way to your makeshift desk. They couldn't have been more than fourteen, visibly gangly under their uniform with charmingly large teeth hidden slightly by their pursed lips.

“Ahh Welcome welcome. What can I do for you?” You leaned forward, your elbows now resting on the desk watching them plop themselves in front of you. The young boys hands immediately covered his face, pausing before speaking.

“I don't know who to ask to the ball. ” He choked, his words muffled heavily by his hands. You cocked your head to the side, listening further. The Yule ball was a hot topic for most of the students right now, the idea of asking their peers to a dance gave most body chilling anxiety. This boy was no exception.

But you didn’t respond, allowing him to continue at his own pace.

“I think everyone thinks I'm a little weird. I act weird, I look a little weird.” He continued, his words only above a whisper. “I think it's a lost cause going to the dance.” He peered through his fingers at you, his face visibly red.

“Neville is it?” You asked, sorting through some of the papers in front of you. He looked up at you in shock, unaware how you knew of him.

“Yeah how did you-“

”You should give yourself more credit. From what I hear you have a lot of courage for a wizard your age.” You riffled through the papers some more, finding the roster of witches and wizards in the fourth year with him. You looked up momentarily to smile at him, noticing his posture shift in the chair, his hands now placed politely in his lap.

“I swear if Lupin had me do a boggart, it might as well of been Snape.” You chuckled, pulling a single paper out from the pile. You glanced at him again, a small grin growing on his face. “But that stays between you and me. Hmm?” You continued, raising your eyes slightly. Neville nodded his head quickly, becoming increasingly curious as to what you were about to reveal.

“Now. I know a little bit about the students of your year. You are a few years behind me but close enough.” You waved your hand haphazardly, attempting to keep the conversation light.

“Now you talked about being weird.” You set the paper face down in front of you, locking eyes with the boy. You wanted to give Neville a better sense of confidence in himself before matching him with one of his peers. “Weird is not bad. Weird is great. I’m pretty weird eh? I know everything about everyone in this school. I think that’s a little weird.” He laughed, listening intently.

“Now, I think you just need to find those who matches your weird” You smirked, flipping the page over, revealing a small image of a blond haired girl, silver eyes, and an odd yet charming sense of style. Nevilles eyes practically bulged as he grabbed the paper, unable to find the words.

”Eh eh eh! I keep the paper. You, on the other hand, keep the knowledge. Try it out. Talk to her. Something tells me you two have something mystical brewing.” You wagged your eyebrows sliding the paper back. Neville nodded his head, jumping from his seat out of excitement.

“Thank you! Thank you!” He reached out grabbing your hand, shaking it vigorously. You shook it back, feeling infected with the sudden burst of energy and confidence he now held. He turned and walked out of the empty classroom, head held high. His stride was a little less choppy and his hands a little less shaky.

You smiled to yourself, feeling an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. Collecting the papers strewn against the table, you hesitated over a few of them. Small cards with little tidbits of information scattered alongside images of students. Had their astrological signs, their hobbies, what their class records were. Everyone was intertwined in their own way and it fascinated you. Something that started as a fun joke between friends grew into something school wide. You watched students give their first attempts at love, bring relationships back from the dead, and matching unconfident teenagers with someone who understands them the most. It was your secret talent.

Shoving your book bag over your shoulder, you shut the classroom door behind you, content with another day's work. Turning on your heel, you immediately bump into a large mass, practically unmovable, knocking you to the floor. Catching yourself with your hands, your papers flew across the empty hallway.

“Oh god.” You looked up, noticing the mess now surrounding you. It would take hours to re-sort and categorize all these students. More focused on the papers, you didn’t notice a hand slipping under your elbow, pulling you to your feet. A small yelp escaped your lips, fear flowing through your body.

“Sorry! Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you — or make you drop all of your pictures. Wait, is that me?” The tall figure bent down, picking up a picture. Their back was towards you, only their gryffindor robes and fiery red hair noticeable. Quickly realizing who it could be, you gave yourself a 50% chance of guessing correctly.

Turning to face you, Freds eyes were practically shut, a grin growing on his face from ear to ear, wrinkling his face playfully. He held up the small picture of himself next to his head.

“ Quite a dashing image you chose.” He jokingly looked back and forth between the image of him and you, putting the pieces together,

”Oh! You’re the matchmaker! God George wouldn’t stop shutting up about you after he got Angelina to agree to go to the dance with him. Seriously, he is chuffed. They are inseparable.” He laughed, tossing the image back into the mess on the floor. “It’s actually quite disgusting really…. But hey, I'm a supportive brother.” He shrugged his shoulders, slightly kicking his feet on the stone ground.

You huffed, rolling your eyes at his lack of aid to your clutter. Bending down and beginning to pick up the papers on the floor, you ignored his comments, more frustrated with the large task in front of you.

“Oh god sorry. I got caught up.” He joined you on his knees, carefully picking up papers and pictures, cautiously making sure not to crease or ruin them further. You sighed, relaxing slightly at his help.

“Thanks. It's alright, mistakes happen. Now my whole night will just be fixing this jumble. Seems that 1st year Slytherin are mixed with the 6th year Hufflepuffs.’ You sat back, picking up two different students, shaking your head. Fred chuckled, pausing to read every now and again about the students he gathered.

“How come you never sent someone to me eh? No one matches my type?” He asked flirtatiously, his eyes focused on the floor. You halted your moments, looking at him in disbelief.

“Oh please. Look at the hundreds of students in your own hands. You’re not the only one. How come you never came up and asked for yourself.” You snorted, crawling against the floor, getting closer to Fred. His eyes watched you carefully, thinking about it himself. Why hasn’t he?

“You got me there. Guess I've been doing just fine on my own.” He shrugged, pursing his lips playfully. You laughed, sitting back down, your body tired already from cleaning.

“So who has the matchmaker matched with herself? Must be some fancy bloke who checks off all the marks.” He mumbled, a tone of sarcasm almost hidden behind his words. Almost.

You leaned your back against the wall, slightly saddened by his question. Most people didn’t know that you were almost cursed with your own lack of a love life. You could speak of it in heartbroken poetic love stories; the girl who always looked out for everyone else but never had the time to look inward. Fiddling with your hands, your silence said it all for you.

“If it's any consolation, I haven't had much luck either.” Fred spoke, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, setting the stack of papers down next to him. He sat crossed legged diagonal to you, his eyes now moving around the room, unable to stay still. You smiled lightly, feeling a small sense of relief.

“Is it bad if that does make me feel better?” You scrunch your nose, exhaling lightly, holding back a laugh. Fred looks up, taken back by your words. He laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the walls.

“If my unlucky status as a lone stag makes you feel better, by all means.” He lifted his hands, gesturing vaguely at the mess. You both sat for a moment, laughing with each other. The conversation relaxes back to normalcy.

Sighing lightly, you got to your knees, slowly making your way to your feet. Fred looked at you from the ground, wracking his brain on how you weren’t taken by anybody in this school. While he knew quite little about you, what he did know was that you were caring, kind, and thoughtful to those who came to you for help. Especially because you helped his brother earlier, he had a deep sense of gratitude for what you did.

Collecting the papers, you slid them into your bag, turning to face Fred. He was still on the ground, his eyes fixated on your every movement. You cleared your throat awkwardly, extending your hand, silently asking for the papers near him. Freds eyes widened, realizing he was just sitting and staring at you. He quickly turned, handing you the papers with a small smile. Getting to his feet quickly, he was now the one towering over you.

“So..” He reached up, adjusting his tie, the quiet corridor filling with anticipation. ”Do you need any help with sorting those?” He pointed at your book bag, quickly shoving his hands into his front pockets. He felt bad for creating the mess and wanted to help further, but he also wanted to spend more time with you. “I happen to know a lot of my clientele. Maybe we can join forces.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response.

For a second, you hated the idea. It was something that was special to you, something that was almost embarrassingly secretive you didn’t dare share with anyone. Yet when you looked at him, you didn’t feel judgement. You only felt genuine curiosity and a sense of complementary energy. Calibrating the pros and cons in your head, you reached a conclusion that you wanted to know more about him in any way possible.

“Yeah. I’d love that.” You affirmed quietly. The smile grew on Fred's face, a mix of mischievousness and mystery. You didn’t know entirely if you could trust him, but something in your heart pulled towards him. He was invigorating, charming, and smart. Whether he would be a helpful tool in your business — only time would tell.

Turning towards the hallway, Fred bowed slightly, his hands guiding you ahead.

“Ladies first.” He joked, his smile unwavering. You laughed, accepting his invitation. As soon as you passed him, he joined you in the hallway, only the sounds of your feet lightly pattering against the floor.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley headcanons #fred #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasly x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter headcanon #harrypotter #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts

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slytherinslut0 · 1 year ago

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Six-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Angst, Violence, Aggression, Blood, TomRiddle, Slapping.

***FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"Emily, are you sure I look okay?" You said, your voice a mix of stress and anxiety. "Did you get my baby hairs? The ones in the-"

"Yes, I got them." Emily said, cutting you off as she took a few steps back, focusing her attention on your uniform now. "You look perfect. Beyond perfect."

In the soft glow of your dormitory's lamplight, you moved toward the mirror, your reflection illuminated with a warm, golden hue. You released a long, tension filled breath as you eyed your appearance, your Ravenclaw uniform clinging to your form with tailored precision, the royal blue fabric complementing your complexion and accentuating your confidence. The pleats of your skirt fell in perfect symmetry, and your tie was knotted with care, each fold a testament to your attention to detail.

As you met your own eyes in the mirror, your irises sparkled with determination and purpose. Your makeup, subtle yet enhancing, highlighted your features without overshadowing your natural beauty. With a final, approving nod at your reflection, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the meeting ahead. You wanted to make sure that every element of your appearance spoke volumes about your professionalism and attention to detail. Confident and composed, you spun back around, meeting your blonde-haired friend with a subtle smile.

"Emily, I can't express my gratitude enough," you sighed, your voice tinged with a mix of appreciation and unease. "I can't fathom why I'm so terribly nervous about this."

"It's Tom bloody Riddle; anyone would be nervous," Emily replied, her tone holding a touch of amusement as she lounged on her bed, her eyes fixed on you. "You know, he could be really good for you."

Your breath caught in your throat, and your eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying," she continued, sensing the growing tension in the room. "It's astonishing how you've spent seven years at Hogwarts without really getting to know him. You and he, you're like kindred spirits--both quiet, effortlessly brilliant...I could see you two hitting it off."

You felt a shiver race down your spine at the very idea, yet you quickly dismissed it with a forced, light-hearted chuckle. "Now, that's quite a leap, my friend."

"Make sure to remind me of my prediction when it comes true," she teased, a smirk dancing on her lips as she stifled her giggles. "Off you go now, don't keep Tom Riddle waiting.”

With a grumble of a goodbye, you took a steadying breath before pushing open the door of your dorm room and entering out into the bustling corridor. The familiar buzz of students filled the air, everyone seemingly lost in their own little world as you briskly made your way down to the library, your stride full of a tense determination. As you finally entered, your eyes scanned the room in search of Tom, and when you spotted him--engrossed in books, his demeanour calm and composed at a table in the far corner; your heart rate involuntarily increased.

But then, you spotted movement out of the corner of your eye--and when you shifted your gaze toward it, your pulse plummeted, heart stopping dead in your chest.

Mattheo Riddle, the man who, in his entire seven years at this school, had ventured into the library fewer times than he could count on one fucking hand--was surrounded by his friends on the far couches, a bright-eyed brunette girl seated dangerously close, her eyes glued to him as if he held the universe in his hands. The scene sent a jolt of conflicting emotions through you--creating a visceral reaction that made you want to retch.

You blinked, unable to believe your eyes, witnessing the source of both your irritation and inexplicable attraction, appearing utterly untroubled amidst his social circle. The sight should have been inconsequential--a mere blip on your radar, considering your vehement dislike for him and everything he's put you through.

Yet, as he met your eyes from across the room, that familiar, breath-stealing, devilish smirk teasing the corners of his perfect fucking lips, it felt like a punch to the gut, a twisting turmoil in your chest that you couldn't quite comprehend.

You knew you shouldn't care about who he was with or what he was doing. After all, you despised him, his arrogance, and the way he seemed to effortlessly entangle you in his web. But the inexplicable pang of jealousy clawed at your insides, leaving you both irritated with yourself and unsettled by the intensity of your emotions.

Trying to shake off the feeling, you clenched your fists, reminding yourself of your purpose here--to meet with Tom Riddle and discuss the mentorship guild. Despite your internal turmoil, you focused on the task at hand, determined to ignore the distractions and maintain your composure, and began to make your way across the room toward Tom.

Straightening your posture, you took a deep breath to steady your nerves. As you approached him, you cleared your throat to announce your presence.

"Mr. Riddle," you greeted, your voice steady despite the chaos inside you. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I've heard great things about the mentorship guild, it's been a longtime goal of mine to be a part of it."

Tom's eyes, a sharp contrast to his brother's, held a depth of intellect that seemed to penetrate your very soul. His appearance was the polar opposite of Mattheo's--clean kept, professional; gelled hair and fresh robes--all attributes you'd never find on his messy haired, couldn't-care-less sibling. Tom regarded you with an assessing gaze, nodding appreciatively.

"I'm pleased you're interested," he replied, his voice smooth and composed. "Let's find a quiet spot to talk, and please, call me Tom."

With those words, you gave him a small smile before following him through the isles of shelves and towards the back of the room, reserved only for quiet studies, leaving the unsettling sight of Mattheo and his entourage behind, unable to ignore the heat of his eyes on you from across the room as you moved. In the hushed confines of the library's quiet study area, you settled into a seat across from Tom, the anticipation of the conversation ahead mingling with a sense of relief.

Away from the prying eyes and distracting presence of Mattheo, you felt a newfound confidence building within you.

"Thank you again for considering me, Tom, you have no idea what this opportunity means to me," you said, your voice steady as you met Tom's gaze. "I've always admired your achievements and your approach to academics. I believe I can learn a great deal under your guidance."

His eyes, a captivating shade of deep brown, held yours in an unwavering gaze. "Please, the pleasure is all mine," he replied, his tone dipped in charm. "I've heard remarkable things about your intellect and dedication, Dumbledore spoke very highly of you. I anticipate our collaboration to be mutually beneficial…I have high hopes for what you can achieve."

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you offered a grateful smile. Encouraged by his words, you felt a surge of motivation. "I'm eager to contribute in any way I can."

Tom's eyes glinted with approval. "That's precisely the attitude we value. With your potential and determination, I have no doubt you'll find your place within our guild."

As the conversation progressed, you found yourself immersed in discussions about your academic aspirations, the guild's objectives, and the various projects they were involved in. With every word, you felt a sense of belonging, as if you had finally found a community where your intellect was not only recognized but celebrated.

As you observed Tom while he spoke, it was clear that he was someone you could relate to on a profound level. Like you, he poured his heart and soul into his studies, the pursuit of knowledge a shared passion. His quiet confidence mirrored your own determination, and his dedication to academic pursuits resonated deeply with your own values.

In Tom, you discovered a like-minded soul, someone who, like you, appreciated the sanctity of the library's quietude and the solace found in the pages of a well-worn book. While Mattheo's antics might overshadow his brother's achievements, you recognized Tom's brilliance as a beacon of inspiration, a reminder that there were others in Hogwarts who shared your unwavering dedication to intellectual pursuits.

As the discussions came to a close, Tom straightened his posture in his chair, adjusting his pristine Slytherin robes.

"It's truly refreshing to meet someone as passionate and driven as you," Tom said, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "I believe you have a lot to offer, and I truly look forward to seeing your potential unfold."

You offered a grateful smile, though his lingering gaze left a trail of warmth beneath your skin. "Thank you, Tom. I'm admittedly quite antsy to prove my dedication."

With a charming smile, Tom leaned over the table toward you slightly, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"I must admit, I'm not only intrigued by your dedication to intellect," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "There's something else...something undeniably alluring about you."

"Is that so?" You murmured, head tilting.

His words sparked something inside you that made your pulse increase. You weren't sure what the fuck you were doing right now, but admittedly, you couldn't help yourself. If the Riddle brothers had anything in common outside of their devastating good-looks, it was their effortless bloody charm.

"Indeed, it is," he matched your playful tone, a sly grin playing on his lips. "I'd relish the opportunity to delve deeper into your thoughts...outside of the Thursday evening guild meetings, of course," he said, his eyes glinting with intellectual curiosity. "How about we make it a habit, meeting one-on-one regularly? Tuesday evenings sound splendid, don't you think?"

Internally, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions stirred within you. The idea of regular one-on-one meetings with Tom was undeniably enticing, and would do wonders for your reputation, yet the fear of Mattheo's reaction held you back. As you hesitated, an unsettling vision of Mattheo's disapproving expression flashed in your mind, causing your response to stall.

"I...I appreciate the offer, Tom," you finally managed to say, your voice slightly shaky. "Tuesday evenings should work. I look forward to our discussions."

Your response came out a bit stilted, your internal turmoil seeping into your words, and Tom, ever perceptive, noted your apprehension with a slight eyebrow raise, but clearly chose to dismiss it.

"Wonderful. I look forward to it as well." He said, pushing up from the table and shooting you one last professional nod, "enjoy the rest of your night."

You smiled. "You too, Tom. Thank you.”

And with that, he spun, making his way down the dimly lit isle of the library, your gaze fixated on him until he was entirely out of sight. And once he was, you slumped back in your chair, releasing a stifled breath, acknowledging that his flirtation added a new layer of complexity to the already intricate web of your emotions--but, considering the fact that Mattheo was nothing more than selfish asshole who was currently cuddled up with another girl at this very moment, you refused to wallow in the thought of him any further.

You pushed up from your seat and delved deeper into the library's hushed corridors--the muted ambiance and the scent of old parchment surrounding you as you moved. With purposeful steps, you maneuvered through the labyrinth of bookshelves, gliding down the dim aisle of your choice, your eyes scanning the titles, seeking the specific astronomy book essential for your upcoming exam.

Finally, you came to a halt in front of the S category, your fingers gently tracing the spines as you read their titles, lost in the tranquility of the moment when out of nowhere, a vice-like grip clamped over your mouth, stifling any sound, and you were forcibly pulled backward--your body colliding with a strong, powerful chest, the abrupt impact momentarily jarring your senses.

As the initial shock faded, and the lingering smell of cigarettes and firewhiskey filled your nostrils, calloused palm tightening its hold over your lips, you knew there was only one fucking man that this could be. Mattheo Riddle's unyielding hand muffled any protest, and the fingers on his free hand dug into the wooden shelf beside your head, his silent strength radiating a chilling intensity that left you frozen in fear.

"Playing with fire, aren't you, Raven?" His hot breath danced on your ear as he whispered, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "You know, playing too many little games might get you in trouble, princess..."

Pinned against the shelf, your fingers clung desperately to its edge, seeking stability as your body pressed firmly against the unforgiving wood. Mattheo's presence enveloped you, a low growl escaping him as he tugged your face to the side, pressing your temple against the row of books, his lips grazing your ear--holding you captive like a fragile little bird, ensnared in the coils of the big bad serpent.

"Tuesday nights, huh?" His voice was deeper than you'd ever heard it, your heart pounding in your throat as you realized he'd must have heard your conversation with Tom--and clearly, wasn't very happy about it. "I knew you'd fall for his fucking bullshit, Raven...you seem to have a knack for falling into traps, don't you?"

Rage coursed through your veins, a primal growl building up in your throat as you pressed against his restraining hand, your thoughts ablaze with a multitude of scathing comebacks. The fervent desire to unleash your fury clashed with the harsh reality that he had more to say, leaving you seething in silence.

"You're delusional if you think he's actually fucking interested in you..." he breathed, pressing his lips directly to your ear now. "You're just his new prey...his new little protégé...take you in and make you feel special, just to discard you once he's done with you..."

A chill crawled down your spine, settling in the pit of your stomach like a lead weight. His words stung, and you struggled against his grip, his fingers digging into your skin, reminiscent of a snake coiling around its prey. Despite your attempts to break free, his hold tightened like a serpent constricting its victim, leaving you feeling trapped and vulnerable--involuntarily eliciting a sensation between your thighs you wished to ignore.

"Maybe that's what you want though, huh?" He taunted, voice dripping with disdain. "Maybe I've already ruined you...maybe you like being a little slut so much now that you're willing to throw yourself at anyone who offers..."

Your groan of frustration mingled with a futile attempt to break free, but his grip on your mouth remained unyielding. The hand that had been braced against the shelf now shifted to your hip, anchoring you firmly in place, his touch possessive, commanding--sending shivers down your spine, even in the face of his despicable words. The sheer force of his hold had an intoxicating allure, leaving you trapped in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, unable to fully resist despite your burning anger.

"Do you want to fuck him, Raven?" His voice tightened, twisting your head back further to meet his eyes, the painful angle making you wince, your lids fluttering shut as a result. "No, no. Open those eyes. Look at me."

Your stomach churned with unease, and you reluctantly complied, his fingernails digging into your cheek as he forced you to meet his dark, possessed gaze, the smell of alcohol radiating off his breath.

You swallowed. It was a bloody Thursday--why was he drunk on a fucking Thursday?

"Is that what you want?" He muttered, his voice softening, though his grip remained firm. "Because he's going to try...believe me, he's going to fucking try."

In the vice-like grip of his fingers, you growled low, a surge of irritation coursing through your veins like molten lava. How dare he presume to control your actions, as if he held any genuine concern for your well-being? His selfish motives were as transparent as glass, his only interest lying in your submission to his sexual desires. Meanwhile, he shamelessly paraded his affections for other girls, a cruel reminder of his callousness. There was no way you would yield to his manipulative tactics, your determination burning brighter than ever amidst the storm of his toxic influence.

And with a surge of sheer madness, you bared your teeth beneath his palm, sinking them into his rough flesh with a viciousness that mirrored the intensity of your anger, determined to inflict any pain you could in your struggle for freedom--and as your teeth dug into his skin, he recoiled, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as you tried your hardest to draw blood.

His grip momentarily loosened, allowing you a gasp of precious air before he tightened his hold once more--his eyes, ablaze with a mix of fury and surprise, bore into yours, capturing your defiance and turning it into a challenge. With brutal force, he spun you around, your back colliding with the unforgiving shelf; the impact sending shivers of pain racing through your spine, and the back of your head met the harsh wood with a sickening thud--your vision momentarily blurring, your heartbeat echoing in your ears like a war drum, punctuating the silence of the library with the harsh reminder of your vulnerability in his grip.

Your eyelids flickered, blinking rapidly to clear the haze, unveiling his intoxicated form, a menacing silhouette against the dim light. His eyes, blacker than the midnight sky, bore into your face with predatory focus, dissecting every flicker of emotion that crossed your features. Your eyes widened in sheer shock, somehow just now fixating on the new cut over his nose, dried blood trickling down from his nostrils and staining his chin, throat and uniform like macabre tears.

"Yeah, that's right..." he muttered, grin crawling over his lips, "take a good fucking look, princess."

Trapped beneath his unrelenting palm, you pleaded, your voice barely audible amidst the fear that gripped your throat. Desperately, you tried to shake your head, your eyes widening in horror as the sinking, sickening sensation in your chest deepened.

Your heart raced with dread, praying vehemently that the blood staining him had nothing to do with Tom.

"I warned you," he sneered, his head tilting as he leaned closer, his palm pressing your head back against the shelf with savage force, as if he was anticipating your impending reaction. "I told you exactly what I'd do to him if he fucking tried anything..."

Your heart fell, shattered, and scattered into a million shards on the cold library floor. Anguish surged through you, transforming into a fierce, unyielding determination, and without hesitation, your hand left your side, a trembling force of defiance as it harshly connected with his cheek--sending his face whipping to the side, his messy hair bouncing against his forehead with the impact.

The sharp sound reverberated through the silence of the library, and his grip on your lips faltered just enough to allow you to break free. Before he had a chance to do anything else, you gripped his wrist, holding it in place, your chest heaving with the weight of your emotions.

Your voice trembled with a mix of disbelief and anger, words escaping your lips in a choked whisper. "I can't...I can't fucking believe you," you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest like a frantic drum. "Mattheo, do you even realize what you've done?"

He blinked, his cheek tinged with a rosy hue from the impact of your slap. "Do you?"

"What the fuck do you mean?" Your lungs seized, anger threatening to collapse them. "How the fuck am I supposed to explain why you fought your own brother over me? How the fuck am I going to justify that in any way? We aren't supposed to...we aren't-"

Your words cut through the air, heavy with incredulity and a profound sense of betrayal. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, leaving you at a loss for words as you struggled to comprehend the tangled mess he had created.

"He doesn't know it was over you," he muttered, ripping his wrist from your hold. "It's not the first time I've fought my brother, Raven."

"Oh, so it's just one big coincidence that you suddenly pick a fight with him after he meets with the girl who's been tutoring you one-on-one for the last few months, right Mattheo?" You snapped, your words laced with bitterness and frustration, the tension between you hanging in the air like a storm waiting to unleash its fury. "Do you understand that if anyone fucking finds out about us...literally anyone...my post graduate career is fucking ruined, and all of this has been for absolutely nothing? Do you understand how many rules I've broken, how much I've risked, just to allow you to use me however you’d like? And this is how you repay me?"

With a sudden movement, you brought a hand to his chin--your fingernails biting into the skin of his jaw, the sharp edges of your frustration cutting into him as you held him firmly in place. The intensity of your grip mirrored the storm brewing inside you, the forceful pressure a physical manifestation of your raging emotions.

"You have absolutely no fucking right interfering in on my life like this...not while you're cuddled up with another girl on the couch...not when you've made it clear as day that I'm your fucking toy and nothing more." You seethed, your voice cutting through the air like a knife. "You have no right to paint him as though he's some demon when you haven't once dared to look at your own fucking reflection."

Mattheo's eyes met yours, his usual confidence flickering for just a moment as the weight of your accusation settled upon him. "You have no idea what he's like...you can't-"

"I know what you're like." You hissed, dropping your hand from his jaw. "And not many can be worse than you."

"That's where you're wrong." He retorted, spitting the words through barred teeth. "That's where you're absolutely fucking wrong."

"Admit it, right now, Mattheo." You snarled, words like venom as you spat them off your tongue. "Admit that I'm nothing but your fucking toy, nothing but a naive little slut for you to manipulate...admit that I'm-"

Your words hung in the air, abruptly silenced as Mattheo's vice-like grip clamped onto your jaw, the intensity of his hold promising to leave marks on your skin. He pressed your head back against the shelf, your body stiffening in response to his overpowering force. The heat radiating from his frame enveloped you, intensifying the sense of confinement as his free hand slammed onto the shelf beside your head, adding to the mockery of your helplessness.

"No," he growled, his voice low and intense, the frustration palpable in the air. His grip on your jaw tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, and you winced, the pain jolting through you. "You're fucking not."

"Bullshit," you hissed back, your defiance flaring despite the pressure of his hold.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze locked onto yours with a fiery determination. "If you were just some conquest, just some notch on my bedpost, why the fuck wouldn't I have fucked you already, huh?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, the intensity making your stomach twist in knots. "I've had countless chances, Raven...and Merlin knows I fucking want to."

Your voice trembled, the vulnerability seeping through your words like a crack in a dam holding back a tidal wave of emotions. "Want...to...what?"

"Fuck you," he admitted, his grip on your jaw loosening, his confession dripping with both desire and frustration. "I want to fucking rail you, Raven, what the fuck else would I be talking about?"

"But?" you whispered, your voice barely audible, your heart pounding in your chest, desperate for an answer you already fucking knew. "What's stopping you?"

He exhaled, his jaw tensing. "You're a fucking virgin...I've never...I wouldn't feel right if I-"

"Exactly my fucking point," you said, cutting him off, your words slicing through the tension between you. "It wouldn't feel right because I'm just a fucking toy, Mattheo...I'm just a means for you to get your release and then throw away when you're done, what you said just fucking confirms it..please don't stand here and try to pretend otherwise..."

The truth hung in the air, heavy and raw, the silence that followed echoing with the weight of your unspoken feelings, leaving both of you engulfed in a suffocating sense of reality.

"You said you had no interest in taking my virginity." You whispered, reluctantly meeting his eyes. "You fucking said that, before any of this started."

"I know," his throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I know what I fucking said.”

"So, let me get this straight." You spat, eyebrow cocked. "You want me to continue being your toy, breaking every rule in the book in exchange for your tutoring cooperation and improved grades in order to help me impress Dumbledore, while you continue to be with other girls, but get controlling and fucking crazy when your own brother comes near me, even though you know we could never be together and you have zero intentions of making that happen away...yeah?"

As he blinked, remaining silent, you huffed, releasing a frustrated breath. "Can you at least do me one little fucking favour and explain that hypocrisy to me, Riddle? Or-"

Cutting you off, Mattheo's fingers gripped your jaw for what had to be the hundredth time in ten minutes, pulling you into a kiss that felt like an explosion of chaos and passion--the taste of blood, firewhiskey, and the lingering scent of cigarettes filling your senses; a potent mix that somehow pulled a low moan from your throat. His tongue brushed past your lips, exploring your mouth with a fervor that left you breathless, your entire body reeling from the raw desperation in his touch. The world around you faded into oblivion as his hands slid into your hair, anchoring you to him, pressing you against the shelf with an irresistible force, neither of you willing to separate despite your urgent need for breath.

After what felt like an eternity, Mattheo's lips reluctantly left yours, trailing a path of fire down to your jawline. His hot breath, laced with the taste of whiskey and desire, washed over your skin as he panted, and the room seemed to pulse with the aftermath of the passionate exchange. The two of you stood there, heaving, as if trying to fill your lungs with enough air to regain composure--the intensity of the moment lingering, leaving you both breathless and yearning for more, even though you both knew it was a stupid, idiotic, dangerous game you were playing.

"How is it, that the one woman I can never get enough of, is the one I can't have..." he whispered, his voice so low you swore there was no fucking way you heard him correctly. "When I think about it, I guess it's a fitting punishment, for a monster like me..." his hands fell to your hips, softly holding you against him. "To hold something in my hands and know beyond a bloody fucking doubt that I'll never deserve it."

Your lungs stalled, your heart stopped, oxygen fleeing you as though it was running from a fucking fire. He took a step back, releasing you fully.

"You're right, I had no right doing what I did." The words slammed your chest like a fifty pound brick. You couldn’t do anything except blink. "But I couldn't control myself, and it's not your fault, it's mine. I can’t get over myself. Just be my tutor, and let’s forget anything ever happened between us…I hope my brother makes you fucking happy.”

Without giving you a chance to respond he shifted, making his way down the isle and disappearing around the corner before you even had a singular chance to decipher what the fuck had just happened.

————-

Chapter Seven->

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smusherina · 9 months ago

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yard work - chapter 1 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 2

Summers spent cleaning the Georges' pool, mowing their lawn, fixing up their garage door, and giving the odd oil change to one of their cars was the norm for you. Your father had made it big as a self-made entrepreneur, climbing the ladder rung by rung all the way up from rock bottom, but he had ensured your upbringing reflected his humble roots. That meant that while you never had to go hungry like he did, your allowance was minimal. Enough for school lunch and a few dollars to spare.

Doing odd jobs around the neighbourhood had been your primary means of making money for the last couple of years. The block was pretty fancy, so not everybody wanted to hire some twerp with no experience when a professional was easily available. Even so, rich folk were surprisingly stingy. You had your own equipment, didn't ask for much and had a familiar face. The Georges were your longest-standing clients. Mowing their lawn in summer and shovelling their driveway in winter had been your job since you were thirteen.

That was probably the reason why Regina kept her distance instead of ridiculing you like everybody else. You went to the same high school, Northshore, but that was pretty much it. You hung around your own (loser) ilk and she had her (cool) troupe. She had this odd little clique with Gretchen Wieners and Karen Smith. You didn't know much about the two girls and you couldn't really tell if Regina even liked them. They hung out so they had to have something in common, right? You were but an observer at the end of the day, no matter how your neighbourly vantage point gave you a glimpse into Regina's life.

You counted her ignoring you as a blessing. It would've cut deep to fall victim to her new ways. This persona wasn't that new, you had to admit, but when you'd known her since practically diapers, high school was a pretty new development. She'd never been what people would describe as sweet or nice, but this mean girl persona was on a whole other level.

To be fair, you could very well understand why Regina was the way she was. You knew Mr George. You'd sat at the same dinner table as him, had experienced first-hand how his presence weighed on his family. Especially on Regina. Your father was the same way, all sharp edges with no time for tenderness, not even- especially not for his daughter. That'd been the reason you'd gotten so close to Regina in the first place. Most of the time it was just Regina, her mom and you at their house. Mrs George left you two by yourselves a lot 'cause she had to take care of Kylie. You loved being at the Georges' house.

(Expect, of course, those select few times Mr George was also there. But that was rare. Regina didn't invite you over when he was home.)

And now it'd been reduced to this. You, fishing leaves from the pool. Regina, inside with her new friends. Mrs George, lounging on the patio with a virgin margarita, chatting with you when you rounded the pool closer to her. Kylie, probably in the sitting room dancing along to whatever they played on MTV.

You straightened from your slouched position and groaned at the ache in your back. You leaned back with your hands braced at your sides, trying to stretch out the crick.

"Mrs George?" You hollered and waved your arms in her direction.

"Yes, dear?" She brightened up, perching up in her sun bed.

"You mind if I put my headphones on while I mow the lawn?"

"Oh, sure, of course!" She waved a hand dismissively. "Remember the glasses! And once you're done why don't you have dinner with us?"

"I'll think about it, Mrs George." You smiled with thin lips, knowing you'd be turning the offer down. With that, you plugged your headphones into the Walkman at your hip and walked to the shed.

You wore the safety glasses obediently, knowing all it took to blind you was one unlucky pebble to the eye. Your dad had been sure to lecture you about workplace safety over the years, like every time you stepped foot in the shop, so at this point putting on embarrassing safety equipment was second nature.

The Georges had a big lawn. Stingy rich people, couldn't get one of those driveable mowers. You'd be pushing this cart around till nightfall, or something...

Usher's newest album blasting in your ears and the rumbling of the lawn mower muffling all background noise, you didn't notice her at first. By the time you caught sight of Regina standing on the patio stairs, looking your way, hands on her hips and a displeased frown on her lips, you feared you were too late.

You let the engine die and tugged your headphones away from your ears. "What?" You yelled across the pool.

She rolled her eyes before answering. "Mom wants you in for dinner."

"Oh," This had never happened before. Usually, Mrs George would come round to give you your payment, ask you to stay and you'd say no. She'd smile sadly and say "Maybe next time, sweetie".

"She made casserole," Regina said, inspecting her nails. What was for dinner was definitely not the reason for your hesitation.

"Uh, I don't wanna intrude-"

"You wouldn't have been invited if it was an intrusion, idiot." She cut in sharply. "Don't be rude." And so, she swept inside.

"Uh- I- I'll finish up as fast as I can!"

#mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls movie #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #mean girls x reader #wlw #lesbian regina george #fic: yard work

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futureplayboibunnie · 1 year ago

Text

Aphrodesiacs Pt.10 (Finale)

Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader

You and Miguel were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?

okay grand finale for y’all. I REALLY BUST MY ASS TO MAKE THIS A LONG JUICY ONE. i was listening to once more to see you by mitski writing this soooo.

NSFW AS ALWAYS 18+

You kicked Miguel out that night.

Yes, it was petty. Yes, it was bitchy. But you really couldn't be around him, not when you had to go to HQ tomorrow. You got a taste of his lifestyle and you found that it was enough.

You didn't want to be a secret side fling but you didn't want to be in a relationship either, you were confused, and being near Miguel never made you clear-headed anyway so you found it very easy to kick him out. He wasn't saying the right things to you and to be honest, you didn't care if it was petty. You wouldn't settle, even if it was Miguel. But then again, it was Miguel- the man that makes you bend to his will, the man that makes your pussy sore and your body ache, the man that can make you cum over and over again until you're biting into the bedsheets. Your mouth went slack at the mere thought. You had to put your foot down, although it felt so fucking good, you wouldn't reduce yourself as someone he fucks from time to time.

You really weren't looking forward to Monday.

Monday morning was hell.

But as it approached nightfall, everything became worse.

Miguel was pacing in his office, his trembling fingers rubbing the skin of his forehead. He couldn't work properly, not when you so casually said 'leave' and shut the door in his face. He couldn't lie, it definitely stung, almost like he was being rejected by the popular girl in high school, reducing him to an awkward, idiotic mess in front of a pretty girl. The thought made his eye twitch, embarrassment twinging at his chest. The issue that was heavier than the embarrassment was the frustration and regret, he couldn't help but feel sad about it- but he would much rather die than show it. After all these years of keeping himself hidden, keeping busy with his work, with his role as a leader...he really didn't know how to open up to anyone. The only person he had ever gotten properly close with was you, and that was just sex. He hadn't had an intimate conversation about his true feelings with a woman he wanted before. It was always just about the sex. But with you, it had always felt like it was something more, maybe it was the spider, maybe it wasn't- he just wanted to be...near you. Lyla had heard him humbling to himself, cursing in Spanish. She was looming over him trying to see what was up with him but he just waved her away.

What if you were already fucking someone else? Did you hate him? What if you never spoke to him again? His jealousy over hypothetical scenarios was messing with his head. He frowned. Miguel felt a surge of anxiety and insecurity flow through him.

Miguel won't cost his dignity to approach you first though, it was always a challenge between you two, this cruel dance of death, the constant miscommunication, the back and forth. You were both just as stubborn and as unrelenting as each other.

Maybe if he just gave an excuse to see you, maybe if he had you in front of him he could actually talk about it instead of being a cold, unfeeling monster everyone saw him as. Miguel's face dropped as soon as he thought that, his brows furrowed in misplaced anger. The truth is... he was afraid. Miguel hasn't been afraid since Gabriella disappeared in his arms. Now he was about to lose you too.

He didn't want to risk it, he needed to do something.

Miguel pressed a few buttons on his watch, scrolling down to your name and alerting your watch to come see him. He didn't want to make excuses anymore, he just felt lost and you were the only one to find him, you were the only one to save him from eternal damnation. You were his sin, his haven, it felt...it felt like you were his everything at this point. This weekend gave him a glimpse of heaven and now he was aching for it back, yearning for it like a clawing dog at a closed door.

When you saw the notification on your watch, your lips curled downwards and your face shifted into a grimace. You let out a deep sigh, your face softening a little. Okay, another chance. Another chance to see him. You hated that you wanted to see him, but you just had to. Although you stood by your decision, you still felt a fraction of guilt just kicking him out like that. All you wanted from him was to tell you how he felt, not just about this tension between you but his feelings, your chemistry. If there was a future outside of this, if his heart was ready for it, to be open to love. You were scared to admit it, you didn't want to but you had to....you were falling in love with him. That weekend taught you so much about yourself, but it barely told you anything about him. He was unreadable, unknowable. All he was able to show was anger or frustration. You wanted to know if you were important enough for him to let you in. You just wanted to know him. Not just as Spiderman 2099. Not just as the spider that happened to bite both of you. Just Miguel. The heart he loved from, the brain he thought from. You wanted to love him, but he was so hellbent on pushing you away and you didn't want to force him to want you.

You knew this was a necessity. One last time, one last chance before you decided what you wanted.

Anxiety coursed through your bloodstream but you didn't show it as you finally walked into his office and Miguel felt your presence immediately, like your scent was his sustenance. You walked in confident but it always felt like Miguel saw through you, but you didn't know that, again, he was unreadable.

His eyes pierced through yours, a sad and frustrated look carving into his face, he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, he never did. Miguel threw his head back, signaling for you to hop up on his platform. You huffed reluctantly and swung up swiftly. when you landed on your feet next to him, his presence already formed goosebumps on the back of your neck but you were still defensive so you crossed your arms with an intent look.

"You wanted to see me." You say flatly.

“We left things...abruptly.” His voice was low but unconfident, he didn't know how to start, he needed you to take the lead for him.

“Think that was best.” It felt like the words were getting lost in your mouth, you still weren't looking at him and it made Miguel frown. His hand raised to grab your chin softly for you to look up at him and when you did you were met with sad, insecure, guileless eyes.

“Please just...look at me.” His voice was just above a whisper, a plea for something he wasn't sure of. Your mouth opened to speak but your brows just tensed, a moment passing between you as he touched you softly, almost affectionately.

You grabbed his wrist and let his hand fall off of your skin. “What do you want from me, Miguel?” You breathed impatiently.

“Just talk to me cariño.” The softness of his voice contrasted against the frustration on his 1 face, harsh lines of uncertainty and anger played on the softest parts of him, your cold words twisting the knife even further- but he still won't give you the power to hurt him. Miguel wasn't sure if he was capable of letting anyone in, let alone you. The thought slashed through the forefront of his mind and it made his heart hit his gut. He was scrambling for something, his mouth went dry and his hands went numb.

If only he stopped being so self-righteous, so bent on sabotaging everything good in his life. You sighed.

“I don't wanna be some...casual fuck buddy that's of momentary use to you.” A grimace plastered your face as you said it, you didn't want to be reduced to a hole that he fucks from time to time, you wanted him but you're not stupid, you still had your dignity.

Maybe Miguel pried it out of you before, but now you were just irritated. Your hands went to cradle his face, desperate eyes meeting his, searching for an answer but he didn't say anything, his face wasn't giving anything away. “I need more, I want more...” You lean in, lips parting into sullen apprehension, pleading with him to see you. Your fingers rubbed his neck, but this time it was him that was prying your hands off of him.

“What you're asking of me is not something I know.” His utterances were gruff and stern but it was clear he wasn't actively seeking to hurt you, he just never liked articulating how he was feeling, but he wanted to change that- but people don't change overnight.

The sad look on your face just turned into one of surprise defeat.

“Am I not worth trying for?” You breathed and Miguel didn't like the way such a question caught him off guard, it was like his ears were ringing with it, with anxiety...with fear. It's not something he's prepared to deal with, he watched your eyes dim, and your brows raise in disbelief in front of him in real-time and it made him feel even more guilty.

“You're enough for me now.” Miguel lied through his perfect teeth and his answer was making you even more upset, slivers of sadness echoed through him. You let him lie though.

“Then why are you trying to change me?” Your voice faltered a little, and it sent shockwaves down Miguel's spine. He watched as your nose pinched pink like you were about to sniffle in sadness but you kept your guard up, you definitely wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

“I'm not.” He said matter of factly, his face softening for a moment when his fingers brushed a few strands of hair behind your piping hot ear. “Don’t you see? It's you who's changing me.” You felt the depths of his voice scream in sincerity, soft-spoken. His gaze will always be as haunting as it is captivating, the one that makes you feel that you can finally see through him, but it was a beautiful illusion of the bliss he could bring you but never actually could.

“What am I to you, Miguel?” Miguel felt that you were actually withholding your anger from that and even then it still stung, you were still venomous yet harbored a tragic sadness that he couldn't help but feel guilty for. He was making you this miserable and you weren't even in a relationship. The passing thought struck him like lightning. “I know I'm not being fair or rational right now but I want more... need more from you.”

Miguel breathed out in frustration, placing his hands on your shoulders as if to shake some sense into you. “I want to. I want to give you more. I just-“ He forced the words out of him, manning up for the first time other than putting his fists in other people's faces.

He wanted to be good. He wanted to do good for you. But like he told you, he was never a good man to begin with. His lip quivered for a second but he didn't want to be weak in front of you...but you were breaking down his walls, at his door yelling to come in no matter the consequence. It would get you killed. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“Why? I'm not this fragile, breakable object that needs to be kept behind glass at all times. You recruited me, you know I can take care of myself, so why is all that changing now?” You were tired and angry and you just wanted him to want you, to fight for you.

"I'm the one that needs to protect you, no one else can do that but me.” He gritted out, his teeth clenching together.

'”What about me? What if I want to protect you? What if I want to take care of you for once?” That was all you were trying to get across, that you wanted to love him, that you wanted to care for him.

“No.” He said simply.

“So, you can want me but I can't want you? That's such backward logic, Miguel. I just..I want you to know that I care for you, I want you. Not just Spiderman or the aphrodisiacs we've become - you. I want to know you, I just want you to let me in. Why won't you let me do that for you?”

“Because you're mine now!”Miguel's grip on your shoulders tightened. He was practically yelling at this point, he couldn't do this.

As much as he wanted to tell you, the words just died in his mouth. Miguel wanted to cry, he hadn't let a tear shed in so long, and now he was this pent-up ball of emotion that he couldn't even fathom let alone differentiate. He hung his head in between you, his head now facing the floor as his breaths started to turn into heavy pants. “Because you're mine now...I’m the only one that can protect you. But what is that worth when I’m so capable of hurting you. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.” He repeated gently, almost solemnly and all you could do was stare at him wide-eyed, stilling at his unexpected outburst. A tear dripped from his eye, he couldn't face you looking this weak. “I'm supposed to hold it all together, to protect everyone, to keep everyone safe, To keep you safe. I can't be weak, I can't be weak- I have to hold everything together.” He choked out, spluttering and then it all just clenched at his heart:he started quietly sobbing, his head still downcast but his hands softening on your shoulders. Your lips parted in pure unbridled shock, gaping down at him as he fell apart. You really couldn't fathom this, it was all happening so fast.

“I've failed.” Miguel stifled. “I've failed as a leader, a father, a lover. And it's all my fault...I can't hurt anyone else.” Miguel couldn't stop the tears streaming down his face, and then he felt it- your warm touch softly trailing the outside of his face, lifting it up seeing he connected with your sad, eager eyes. That look could make a man fall to his knees, and Miguel honestly felt like it, his knees went limp. Your hand gripped his face as you leaned into his body, he blinked his tears away as his gaze fell on you. Your beautiful face was ashen with sadness and he hated that he was the reason for it. But you were holding him like he was water in your hands. Your soft fingers smoothed away his tears and it was like he was at the altar begging for your forgiveness.

Miguel looked so beautiful. His heart was opening and breaking at the same time and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Miguel O'Hara was crying out in front of you, red eyes now a subdued hazel that you could fall in forever and never look back. All you wanted was to take care of him like he has for everyone else, to show him that he's worthy of love.

“Look at me...” You tipped his chin up and his lip quivered. “You are not a monster. You are not just Spiderman. You are not what you think you are, I've seen you up close and observed you from afar and this weekend has taught me so much about myself and what I want. All I want is to take care of you, to want you.” You had never been this honest about anything. The sincerity coursing through your body oozed out of every pore, radiating your need to want him. Miguel felt his heart stutter and his face freeze, he clenched his jaw to stop tears from pricking at his eyes as your words hit him like a brick. “Don't be the mask, let it out.” You added quietly. You gripped the back of his neck and placed it on your shoulder, your arms wrapping around him as if you would die if you ever let go.

Miguel stilled and then he melted into your embrace, feeling your warmth, he felt like Icarus being dragged into the relentless flames. Your acceptance of him was almost enthralling. You grasped his head into your hands, your eyes flitting from feature to feature as you felt him quite literally freeze in place-your fingertips were the salve to all wounds, the medicine to all sickness and Miguel was as damaged as can be. The walls he manufactured were nothing but dust between his fingertips, your unshakable will to not let him go, to love him as he is, guilt ridden and desperate, made him feel limp. Miguel's underbite clamped in an attempt to stop crying in front of you like this, to be so vulnerable in front of a woman was as foreign to him as being happy. He hasn't been happy in a long time and now you were here wanting to make him all better.

"You have no idea how much you mean to me.” Your grip on his face tightened as if to show him how serious you were. Miguel sniffled and melted into your warm hands, turning his head slightly to kiss your palm. Silence whipped through the air, the crackling of nothing but each other's breaths keeping you both steady as you tried to find the words to say, and this time you were hellbent on being clear. “The moral ambiguity of your actions doesn't scare me, I feel like you don't understand that. The mistakes you made in your past don't define you. Bad people don't care if they're bad...and I know you're good. In your heart, I know you're good...It's why I love you.”

Miguel's eyes widened a fraction and glazed over twice. He felt his mind turn to white noise but he heard you clear as day, the words falling like scripture. Like you were meant to say it. The words felt so sweet and liberating in your mouth but your heart was plunging further and further down, afraid of his reaction. You loved him. The silence that settled between you was palpable, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from yours.

Miguel didn't say anything, he just grabbed you by the waist with his right arm, pulled you close, and smashed his lips against yours. The tears smeared his face and then dried into his skin. Your kisses were always passionate, but this was like wildfire spreading onto the ocean. A fire in December. Warmth in the darkness. Miguel's tongue seeked to find yours, a soft tangle of lust and tenderness- something that he thought he would never be able to have. He sucked the sadness out of your lips and it felt beautiful.

“Let me take care of you..” You whispered sensually in between kisses and Miguel groaned, his fingers pinching gently into your skin. “Let me love you.” Your soft tender sighs were the glue that seemed to hold him together, he paused, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Are you sure?” He was hesitant, unsure if you were willing to see past all of his mistakes, to love him as he is, to be intimate.

Instead of answering, you pressed your fingers against your watch to form a portal to Miguel's place, to show him that you don't care about anything other than him at this moment, that you were willing to accept him as he is. You weren't afraid of proving it, if you had to you would, and right now you were desperate to prove just how much you wanted him, Miguel's eyes widened when he felt the portal beam right beside you, giving you a soft hazy look as you extended your hand, offering him to take it

“Let me prove it to you.” You whispered and that was enough to do Miguel in.

You were his calling, a siren guiding him through muddy waters. He intertwined his fingers through yours and you felt like your soul was being bound to his with every second your soft touch traced against his. Whenever Miguel's hands were on you, they were calloused and rough, his talons protruding from his fingertips aggressively but this time...it was tender, it felt meaningful- his touch was gentle, the way he was holding your hand and letting you guide him to a fate he wasn't even sure of felt surreal. He just can't leave you alone.

You lead him into the portal as your grasp on him is firm, a warning for him to show that you weren't letting go, not this time. As you both stepped out of the portal into his living room, it sealed behind him and left you both blinking at each other compressed by the thick tension. Thank God for this watch, honestly, it could take anyone anywhere.

“Wait...” He muttered hesitantly as he stopped you in your tracks. Turning around, your gleaming eyes were lasered on him and you shivered into his touch as he put his hands on your waist as a means to stop you from going to the bedroom. His free hand went to cradle your face as his thumb caught on your lip. “Did I hurt you at all? When we fucked did I hurt you?” He murmured sensually and it sent a permanent smattering of goosebumps to dimple all over your heated skin. Miguel's eyes were dim with curiosity and most importantly seriousness.

“No. Never. You never hurt me.” You confirmed and it settled the pace of his beating heart a fraction, but it was always racing when he had his hands on you. “We've fucked but...You’ve never made love to me.” Your voice was honeyed and low, the words slipping from your tongue as you suggested it.

Make love?

Oh, baby, you don’t know what you’re talking about. He doesn’t make love.

All he knew was to fuck. Hard and animalistic. But that wanton scorching look in your eyes, so desperate for him to be gentle, to make you feel wanted. And fuck, he wanted you to feel cherished by him.

He hadn't been so intimate with another woman like this, even with the mother of his own child.

Your eyes were wide, lips wet and eager but not eager in the way that he always knew you to be, you were desperate to show him something new, you were taking control and he was following along. It was refreshing.

His thumb was brushing over those perfect lips, plush and pink with heat and blush. You were so damn beautiful it was haunting.

Your eyes fluttered closed and your sweet mouth pressed against his softly, pecking kisses at his lips as you slung your hands around his neck and rubbed his scalp tenderly. “Let me make love to you…” You breathed low and thick and Miguel felt his cock harden already, he whimpered into your mouth and your brain committed the once-in-a-lifetime sound to memory. You made Miguel O'Hara whimper, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Miguel melted into you, his atoms jumping within his body to the point where he leaned into you so eagerly. You opened your mouth to deepen the passionate kiss, he was going so fast but you placed your hands on his chest. “Go slow baby...Need you to go slow.”

Your low voice shot straight down to the tip of his cock and it pulsated within his suit. Miguel listened to you and his mouth moved slowly, his tongue massaged against yours gently, tasting the mouth he adored. You tasted even sweeter like this- this slow waltz of passion allowed him to savor every second of it. The fact that you were on your tiptoes wanton for his lips made him realize how sincere of a moment this was.

"You're so beautiful it hurts.” He pulled away and breathed raggedly. His words were making you so malleable, so bendy under his will and you wanted nothing more than to please him. It was at this moment that you grabbed his hands laced it between your fingers once again and led him to the bedroom. “On the right.” He said huskily.

You opened the door and Miguel trailed behind you like a lost puppy, eager to follow your every move like he was in a trance. He closed the door behind him and that's when you realized it was going to be a long night. Your hands slipped from his and you took a few steps forward so you were near the foot of his bed: You reached out and quickly turned on his bedside light. You wanted to see his face. Miguel just leaned against the door, watching intently to every microdose, to every fraction of a move you made- waiting for your next move. At this point, you wanted to test him. You let out a soft breath with the part of your lips and felt the zipper of your suit. Miguel tore through your clothes like a knife through hot butter just with the sharpness of his talons, this time you wanted to make this slow and less immediate. Miguel's eyes were fixed on you, eyebrows tensing with a strive he hadn't felt before. The tips of your fingers toyed with your zipper and you pulled it down hesitantly. You hear Miguel let out a short breath when you slide out of your suit, slivers of skin piercing his peripheral with your shimmering glow. The fabric pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it, only left in your pretty underwear and bra set. Even subconsciously you were dressing up for Miguel.

He sighed and his eyes fluttered closed when he saw how you looked under the golden glow of his bedside lamp, he saw you perfectly. Your frame was even more beautiful than the last time he gawked at you. His jaw clenched and his teeth gritted when his eyes wandered to your lips. You were biting it and small marks indenting the soft flesh. “Come here..”

Miguel stalked up to you slowly, playing along with you, feeling the gorgeous reality set over him.

You wanted to make love to him, and he wanted to make love to you. To feel you intimately, slowly, passionately. He wanted to take the time to memorize the way you react as he makes you feel good. When he fucked you, he only got flashes, now he wants the whole thing. He was hungry for it.

He was in front of you now, your breath mingling with his, and your eyes flitted from gorgeous feature to feature. Miguel's hand traced up your thigh in barely there touches and you hung your head to watch his ministrations and it felt like you were spellbound by his mysticism. His finger hooked onto the side of your underwear and twirled it gently. “Hmm.” He hummed in a clipped tone and his eyes met yours in a powerful connection. He watched the black of your eyes burst widely, you clearly liked what he was doing.

He was being so gentle with you, so slow. It felt so damn sexy. This waiting. This tension. It felt like the beginning of all of this but…better.

“Tell me, Cariño...What do you want me to do for you?” Miguel whispered as his fingers hooked under your chin to tilt your head back up, he noticed that your lips were already swollen by a few kisses. You were so gorgeous like this, it was inhumane.

“Undress me..” You murmured sweetly but the force of your words seemed more like a diverted beg. Miguel was savoring every second of this torturous process, watching the little twitches of that perfect body of yours under a magnifying glass.

“Hmmm. That what you want?”

"Mhmmm.”

With that, Miguel placed his palms on your back, feeling the straps of your bra as he traced his fingertips over the hooks, teasing you, watching the way your face and body reacted to his barely-there touches. You reveled in it, the uncertainty of the touches he put on you. He finally unhooked your bra, the snaps liberating you as the tension is being relieved bit by bit. You stifled a moan and that sound was so much hotter than a usual moan, you were suppressing it making it clear that you were already getting aroused.

And fucking hell, it was arousing. He wasn't even in you yet. See, before when you and Miguel were yearning for each other, neither of you was thinking straight. All you both needed was to fill each other, Now after that, there was something missing.

This feeling of emotional need was what was missing. This emotional connection and chemistry.

Miguel watched with creased intent eyes as he tugged the pretty bra off you, your breasts bouncing out of its confines. His eyes flicked to yours, one soft palm caressing your chest, that telltale squirm told him everything he needed to know.

“Such a beautiful body, such a pretty face. Like you were made for me Carino.”

“Miguel...” You whimper out slightly.

“What is it, baby?” His voice was gruff and smooth all at once, a velvety mixture of husky and sensuality. It was like he was cooing down at you. “Hmm?” You darted your head down as an indication to strip you of your underwear.

Miguel's lips parted as he understood immediately, his eyes didn't rip away from yours as he slowly bent down to his knees. He hooked his arms around the back of your legs and kept eye contact with you, a surge of arousal washing between you. He planted a few trailing kisses up your thighs and you squirmed into him lime clockwork. His fingers shimmied down your underwear delicately and you stepped out of the flimsy fabric.

“Kiss me.” You say under your breath in such a sweet voice. How could he ever say no to that? The last time he couldn't really remember it, he was so taken over by his primitive instincts that it was all over in flashes-relish every last bit of you.

Miguel let out a sharp breath as his fingers kneaded the soft flesh of the back of your thighs before he cupped the globes of your ass, he was taking his time to feel you, to memorize it all and commit it to memory. Every time he touched your skin, it felt like he was touching God or angel matter. As his mouth placed teasing kisses on your lower stomach his aind was beginning to reel. You were arching into him, your fingers sinking deeper into his hair. He gave you one last look as a confirmation and all he got back was a pretty blushing face with a slack jaw and parted lips. “Need you…” You muttered and that's when his mouth started to suckle on your pussy, his lithe tongue moving up and down and in and out, he was keeping you guessing and it made you all the more frustrated and wet. His nose nudged your swollen clit and it made your body jolt from the aftershock.

“You always taste like heaven incarnate...” he mumbled between licks and all you could do was moan. You were caught off guard when he started to suckle on your clit, his pace was torturous, so slow and you were becoming more and more needy.

“Miguel...Please I-“ You tried to protest but you weren't even sure what you were protesting for and before you could even get off he rose from his knees and wrapped his arms around you, his mouth shutting you up.

Miguel's hands were placed firmly on your ass, squeezing tightly whenever you moaned into his desperate mouth. Your lips were melting into each other and blurring into a slow, wickedly passionate make-out. “It was like my name was supposed to come out of your mouth.” He felt like a teenager about to lose his virginity he was that excited. Your arms hung around his neck and your tongue was so sweet in his mouth, exploring unhurriedly but he knew you were at your threshold- even though he got a taste, you were still reeling from the fact he wouldn't let you finish.

Your mouth unsheathed from his and you both took a beat to gawk at each other. A dark look fell onto Miguel's eyes as he saw your cheeks pink and red with arousal. His hands cradled your pretty face and you looked like a doll in his palms.

“Want me to make love to you, yeah? Make you feel just how deeply I need you?” His voice was strained and low, seduction scraping at his vocal chords and it sent waves of neediness course through your body. The connection your gazes held was a simmering fire that was beating with passion. It was impossible to look away

“Yes." You breathed out sensually, an angelic hazy daze clouding your brain as the word just fell from your lips.

“You're so beautiful, querida.”He kissed your forehead tenderly and your breaths became even more rapid when you felt your legs go limp. He was holding your face like you were a jewel, you leaned your head forward to kiss him on the lips and Miguel just held you back with just the might of his palms. “Easy ángel...” He murmured. “Be patient f’me. You wanted me to make love to you, let me take my time with you then mi amor. Let me feel you.” His easy words just made soft moans roll from your tongue, he was doing a damn good job at making you feel not just wanted but cherished.

Miguel planted a kiss on your temple, you were squirming in his touch, rolling your body onto his. “You know, I haven't been doing well without you...Even after a day, you make me lose my wind with just how badly I need you.” he planted a kiss on your cheek and whispered hotly in your ear. “I got you baby, stay still f’me." He then kissed the corner of your mouth and then fully engulfed your lips with his. You were red hot with anticipation, your senses skyrocketing with every second but the reality was slow and agonizing- it was perfect. You decided to take the lead now, you got Miguel on the bed and he leaned up on the headboard, your head was in between his clothed thighs and you pouted. Miguel quickly rid of the holographic suit and his rock-hard cock sprung free in front of your face. The look on your face was priceless, a mixture of eagerness and seduction- it was a brain fuck.

“Let me taste you too.” Your tone was doused in pure lust and before Miguel's eyes could widen, your tongue stuck out and licked the head of his leaking cock. It wasn't like the first time you gave him head though, this was solely focused on him, no challenges, no teasing, no games. Just making him feel good. You gave kitten licks to his sensitive slit, those barely-there touches already driving him to the sharp edge. Your warm, wet mouth finally covered his tip, suckling gently and swirling him with your tongue, the salty taste of him you craved was already filling up your senses, he tasted so good.

“Mmm..fuck.. you're too good to me, so good f'me.” He let out a strained groan as his head tipped back slightly. You lapped him tenderly, sliding him down your throat, little by little. It felt...loving.

Miguel felt himself still in place when your warm mouth left him hanging, it was you who was prepping him this time. You crawled onto his lap with this innocent glimmer in your eyes, a look that was of mere longing and yearning, a face so eager to please. You settled between his thighs and Miguel's face was steely and serious, he really wanted to show you exactly the kind of love he harbored for you but you had other ideas and Miguel was uncharacteristically allowing you to do whatever you pleased.

“Wanna ride you...” You say softly as your hands massaged at his shoulders and Miguel is already letting out small groans at the slightest bit of contact. You placed your hands on his and guided them to your face, the pads of his fingers traced over your skin and you tilted your head to kiss his palm, then you caught one of his fingers in your mouth, suckling and twirling your tongue around the tip of it softly. Miguel sighed deeply at the pretty sight before you let it go with a pop. “Can I do that for you?” You breathed out.

This all felt so...personal.

Like you were reaching to the darkest depths of who he was and loving him anyway.

It made him burn for you. Miguel's cock was slapping against your stomach, your eyes darted from his face to his length and it made you wet your lips. “Mhmm.” He rasped, his big palms landed on the dip of your waist, helping you guide yourself on him. Before he could though, you leaned in and chastely kissed the tip of his nose, the bridge of his nose, and his forehead. Jesus Christ, it was like you knew exactly how to make him putty in your hands. You gave him a lazy smile as you rose up and eased yourself down on his cock, your pretty pussy swallowed him up entirely like always- even after he's fucked you so many times, he still never got used to how wet and tight your pussy was. Your eyes never broke from his as your tits pressed into his chest, you whined in his ear and his hands burrowed in your soft sweet hair, the strands falling down like a waterfall. "Ah...Mig-“

"Always taking me so well. Do you have any idea just how good you feel, mm?” He grunted out, his big arms wrapping around you entirely, trapping you in him. He was always balls deep inside you, there was no space left between you and that was just how you liked it. “My pretty girl. My beautiful girl. I need you.” He cooed.

You moaned when your hips started subconsciously moving, grinding down on him and making discernable shapes on his cock. Miguel watched you with awe equated to being starstruck, you were bouncing on him and rutting your greedy cunt on him trying to get yourself off on him. “You always- Fuck. Fill me up so good.” You moaned out, your mind all hazy from his brute strength alone, he was forcing you to stay put on his thighs, spending whatever time you needed to please him. Miguel slowed you down as he caught your supple lips with his, it was a desperate kiss that was bursting with flames and then your pace got slower, savoring the kiss. You broke away with a moan and sunk your teeth into his shoulder blades, Miguel's mouth was on the crook of your neck peppering you with the sweet kisses you were aching for, and you felt him inhale the scent of you deeply. His hands apathetically palmed your tits, he rolled the nipples between his nimble fingers, pulling and nipping on them with his teeth and smoothing them with a suckle.

Hm.

He's not known for being kind.

But feeling you like this made him thaw.

Lord, he just wanted to please you, make you feel good and you were just as inclined to do the same thing-bursting each other up with the flames of passion.

“Mmm. Slow yeah? Slow for me. Take your time for me, baby.” He mumbled out through strained pants, you were jerking on him steadily and his eyes tore away from yours to stare at the bulge of your stomach- he was so fucking deep in you it bulged out of your tummy. Miguel's ego skyrocketed at the sight. Fuck, that perfect body of yours would be the death of him. "Look how fuckin deep I am- He pressed the bulge on your stomach and it made your body twitch wildly, you quite literally felt him pulsate inside of you and it made you clench even harder around him. He felt an orgasm approach him, teetering off that blissful edge that tipped between sweet heaven and damning hell.

God, he felt too good, stretching you and bottoming out into you.

When you pressed your forehead against his and whispered “I love you” to him, that was it.

Miguel moaned and rolled you over so that he was on top of you, his legs trapped you in place and his cock was still aching inside you, craving your friction. He weaved his fingers with yours as he pushed in and out of you, Miguel's knuckles turned white as your palm flatted from bliss into the mattress.

He had never done this during sex before, the simple intimacy of hand-holding turned into something so much more consuming. Miguel's figure loomed over you, his eyes piercing and moody, a whirlwind of passion and emotion making his eyes crystal clear than before.

You stared at Miguel.

Miguel stared at you.

Watching each fraction of your body intently, the way your face moved with every thrust, the plush of your cheeks pillowing whenever you whined, the crease of your eyebrows when he hit that spongy spot so deep inside you. The eye contact was driving both of you insane.

“This what you wanted? Me to look after you? Me to take care of you?” He questioned lowly, the strained words coming out in a deep husk. He was deadly serious, it was easy to see when he was glaring at you. That steely resolve melted slightly when you rolled your body against his, your bodies slid together so closely that not even a sheet of paper could fit through.

“Yes, fuck, yes.” You whispered against his lips, your soft breaths were being knocked out of you with a very torturous slow thrust. It made your collision all the more beautiful. Miguel had fucked you so many times during that weekend but this, was otherworldly, this was the true connection, this was lovemaking. He was cherishing you, treating you like pearls and gold in his hands and it made you feel lucky to be alive, The electricity was hot, the gaze you both shared was simmering heat encased with something other than just chemistry.

“I'm not hurting you am I?” He asked inquisitively, his voice cool and suave.

“No, no, no, no, no....No, fuck, you're perfect.” You responded in pleading tandem, your eyes widening with a worrythat he would stop

“I love you, you know that? God, I love you.” He babbled and that's when you felt his thrusts falter and your nerve endings singe, it was like he was taking your beating heart and meddling with it to go faster, to give in.

“I love y-“ Miguel cut off your words with a scorching kiss, his fangs nipped at your lower lip and his teeth bit the supple flesh and pulled back, it snapped back into place and a shaky moan fell from your swollen lips and hs grip on your hands tightened.

You were so close.

This sizzling passion was eating you up alive.

Miguel watched your body react to him and it was a sight created in heaven.

“Miggy...Mig...I'm g'na cum...Just wanna cum for you.” You moaned drunkenly. Miguel's lips captured around your nipple, suckling it and grazing it with his teeth before his eyes latched onto yours again.

“Cum for me baby. Wanna watch you cum for me.” He breathed out raggedly, his gaze dimming and hair in disarray.

Your pussy was so drenched for him as always, but this time you were leaking, the slow pace offering a new and rare kind of satisfaction. When his cock nudged and ground on your clit, you knew you couldn't hold it in anymore. Hot euphoria washed over you in waves, and a new kind of electricity coursed down your thighs anf you soaked his dick in your wetness. “Thaaat's it...I'm right here, I got you.” Miguel fucked you through your mind-altering orgasm.

It was so different. So surreal. When that list final whine fell from your pretty lips, he was already cumming before he could even stop himself. He spread your insides a thick stringy white, spurting out how much you meant to him. His strained pants were soaking your glowing skin, and a thin layer of sweat coated your body in the dim room.

“Shit...”He muttered before your lips collided with his. Your tongue delved into his mouth, taking what he would give you like you were a cat chasing after a mouse. Miguel rolled off of you to your side but his arms were still wrapped around you, your lips still connected in that heady unforgettable kiss. Your hands nestled in his hair, your gentle fingers raking through the strands as you broke away from his mouth and when you looked back into his eyes Miguel's gaze was just as piercing as before.

Miguel stared at you.

You stared back at him.

Your cheeks stained pink as you gave him a lazy fucked out smile. Miguel had the urge to fuck you like that again now. He loved what he had just experienced though. Missionary was so much better like this. It was so much better when he looked into the eyes of the woman he loved. When you kissed him on the forehead and told him you loved him, he knew that this was different.

A sudden wash of defensiveness tightened at his chest. You should've walked away from him. He should've walked away from you...but you didn't and that was a risk in itself, no one knew how it would unfold.

Miguel had his temper.

You were stubborn.

What if- What it-?

Miguel watched you like a lovesick fool, your pretty face warming his cheeks and dimming his eyes. He contemplated you for a moment, your presence, your smile, your warmth.

Was it worth it?

Yes.

He wanted to wake up to you every day, he wanted to take you out to dinner, make you feel special, make you his.

You both just gawked at each other blankly, sweet words filling the sweet atmosphere. All this yearning, all this pining lead up to this.

You were flustered. He was flustered.

You felt so fulfilled, so wanted, so needed by him- it had never been like this with anyone.

Miguel was facing his fears head-on with you by his side. His anxieties were quelled with every moment he spent here with you, he found that your soft breathing and guileless eyes were what was keeping him afloat.

Y’ALL I HOPE U LIKED THIS SERIES!!! the amount of support is unbelieveable ilysm! i will be writing an extra bonus chapter for u ;)) iknow i def need to do a masterlist and i will get on it soon i promise (tumblr deleted my old one smh)

taglist (giggles): @thel0velykey190 @scaleniusrm @drefear @mafer383 @i-feel-violated @crowleysthings @avatar-lover @wyvernnest @rowboatweeb @schniti-is-in-the-house ri @d1lf-loverrr @iamv1n @ro99se @nxrdamp @mrssabinecallas @jesmynsjoys @xiylio @leahnicole1219 @reine-sans @tallmanlover @neverlandlostchild @axerrri @frieschan @plzfeedmebread @rorel1a @z0mbiekat @rey26 @stunkbiggu @honeycovered-bandaids @hearttjason @brittney69 @thyroidissues @4imhry @pinkliquor @realalpacorn @dr-skazka @simoniithehomii @aisyakirmann @deezisnotreal @synamonthy @bread6069 @iite-cool @thedevax @soymiguelsesposa @heartthrobinsblog @siidmm @queerponcho @luvingmyships @dhollandhs @kehlanilopez @lyrasdrawer

#spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

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lets-try-some-writing · 4 months ago

Note

(For your Mr. Pax AU:)

Imagine the kids meeting Elita. It'd be so fragging wholesome XD

It'd more then likely be after the school day, too. Lmao.

It would and I have opted to answer the call for this ask.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

"So kids, how was school?" Elita grinned as the children settled on their platform, spreading out homework and other assignments for the cycle. She regarded their work with interest. It seemed simple enough in her optics, but then again, the human children were very small.

"Oh! You're Elita! Optimus's wife!" Miko shot up, a huge smile on her small squishy face. The urge to reach out and poke one of her cheeks was strong, but Elita refrained. It wouldn't do to go poking the children when it was far safer just to wait until later and do it in holoform.

"I'm his Conjunx, yes." Jack pointedly did not look in her direction. Elita could almost see the way his venting would have sputtered if he were Cybertronian. She may not have been well versed in all things human as of the present moment, but even she could see he looked a moment away from exploding.

"Woah, I didn't know Optimus was married." Rafael added his own commentary, closing his laptop to look up at Elita with wide eyes. She had to fight back an awed noise at how adorable he looked. He was tiny, his glasses only making him look more like a sparkling in her optics. She wanted to poke his cheeks as well, but that would have to wait.

"He's been my Conjunx for a very long time kiddo. Since before he became Prime in fact." Miko and Rafael made awed noises, and even Jack looked up at her in surprise, his embarrassment over the parent-teacher conference forgotten.

"Really? Optimus doesn't seem like the kind of guy to well... do that?" Jack was hesitant in his words, but Elita laughed in short order. She clutched her abdomen as she considered Jack's point of view, all but cackling. Her Conjunx could be quite stern when he wanted to be, especially when stressed. She'd already heard about how Optimus shut down any attempts at being introduced to humor. It was no surprise Jack was startled.

"He wasn't always such a stoic figure. Back when we were young, we got into all sorts of trouble." Resting a servo on her hip as he laughter died down, Elita watched as the children practically lit up at the reveal. Jack was quiet with his interest, but Rafael and Miko were not.

"Optimus in trouble? Oooh this is some blackmail material I need!" Miko did a little dance in place, the plushies on her belt shifting as she did an excited twirl. Elita again had to fight the urge to pick up and cuddle the squishy organic close. It probably wouldn't end well, but she hadn't been able to hold such a small creature since Bee was freshly forged.

"I don't think you can blackmail Prime with stuff that millions of years old." Jack, being so much like Optimus, tried to rain on everyone's parade with logic. Thankfully, his little black raincloud bounced right off Miko and Rafael who were still staring at Elita like she hung the moon.

"Married couples always have wild blackmail!" Miko flailed, throwing her arms up in the air as she grinned. Jack sighed and Rafael secretly adjusted his glasses to try and hide a smile. Elita could feel it right then and there as adoration settled in her spark.

Yes, she was keeping these squishies. She could convince Optimus later.

"I have quite a few stories for you. But only if you promise to not harass Optimus with them. He's got enough going on." Holding up a digit to her derma, Elita smiled as the children each agreed, some more enthusiastically than others.

"We won't bother him. Promise." Rafael's eyes only seemed to be made bigger by his glasses. Elita's spark leapt in its chamber, the cuteness of the scene overriding her usual serious attitude as mischievousness she had long left behind began to resurge.

"Settle down then children. Let me tell you all about Orion's first visit to the docks." Elita could see Optimus out of the corner of her optic looming in the nearby hall. He looked to be mostly uncaring as he waited there, listening in. But she could see the hint of a smile on his features. He wasn't opposed to her decision, giving her all the more reason to tell her tale.

It had been so very long since they'd had anyone who cared enough to hear their story.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #elita one #oplita #optimus x elita #teacher au #tfp kids #miko nakadai #jack darby #rafael esquivel

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hazelsmirrorball · 4 months ago

Text

F1 Elementary | Teacher! Oscar Piastri x Teacher! Reader

summary: It's Halloween in Box elementary and Oscar decides it's a good idea to play secret admirer and finally make a move with one of the teachers.

pairings: teacher!oscar piastri x teacher!reader

a/n: Excuse any errors english isn’t my main language. This is based off Abbott Elementary. If it's in bold it's a confesional.

The bell rang loudly, filling the halls mixing with the loud voices of the kids that were heading towards their classrooms. The teachers patiently waited outside the door greeting every single kid that entered. The hallways were different from their day to day. Miss L/n had stayed all night up decorating the halls to make them spooky for halloween. People could probably say that she could be a little bit of an overdoer. Spiders webs, spiders, pumpkins, bats surrounded the hallways, clinging towards the halloween aesthetic scaring a few of the kids.

"Hi! I'm principal Norris. I still don't know how I ended up ruling this school but might I say I love it here. I’m the literal king of this school, everyone does what I say, it’s like I direct them or something. There’s a lot of perks of working at Box elementary, Hot teachers, smart kids and the paycheck. Being a principal is the best, so I welcome you to my lovely kingdom. But enough about me, let’s talk about my untalented and ugly staff so you guys can see what I have to work with everyday. Look, there we have one of our annoying second grade teachers, Y/n. I'll leave you guys to it and let me say if you need more beauty shots, I'll be in my office" Lando said while tilting his crown down sending a kiss towards the camera. He turns to the left and the camera slowly follows him walking towards one of the students eating a lollipop. Lando quickly takes it out of her hand and eats it himself. He walks away leaving the kindergartener alone crying in the halls.

"Hello!! I'm Y/n L/n. But around here everyone calls me Miss L/n. I've been teaching second grade here for about four years now and honestly it's a blast. I love the kids, I love the school, I love my coworkers, I love the classes, I love my mood ...Sorry l am rambling but in my defense it's one of the best holidays of the year. Halloween! and this year is different because we got the opportunity to dress up. They also let me put the whole school in halloween decor. All the kids are so excited to wear their little costumes and eat candies. That’s why I had to step up my game. Guess what I am? No? Okay. Well I’m a bumblebee cause people say I’m sweet like honey and sometimes that is annoying, but that’s nobody's buzzness. Did you get the joke? Did you understand? Because I am dressed as a bee? I know you got it, I see that smile on your lips, cameraman. Anyway, let me just get to the point, I teach second grade and around here we all love to have fun. Do you want a Frankenstein cupcake? I made them myself" She said with a huge grin stretching out her hand with a cupcake toward the cameramen while the kids in the background made cute cupcakes. Her face was covered in frosting and her costume was covered in glitter.

Oscar Piastri, smiled as he excitedly greeted his first graders, exclaiming proudly “happy halloween ” as they entered the classroom, His Mark Webber costume intact. He watched as his little students entered the classroom all giggly while holding onto buckets filled with candies he had personally requested them to bring so they could exchange with their classmates. When the last student entered, his eyes trailed towards the end of the hall where he could see Y/n L/n handing her kids a lollipop while they entered. Oscar stared at her in aw, as she did a dance battle with one of the kids that was dressed as a hip hop dancer. Y/n stinger got caught on the door making her fall back as all the kids from her class ran up to her to help her up. She shook them off by saving countless thank you’s. Y/n threw her head back laughing at her kids following the action as Oscar stayed in his place being starstruck by her beauty. Oscar waited a few seconds to catch her eye and waved at her with a soft smile which Y/n happily returned. Being lost by the sudden interaction Oscar couldn’t feel the small child tugging on the side of his pants trying to get his attention.

“Mr. Oscar! You are staring at Miss L/n again. You said staring at people was rude” The child exclaimed quite loudly making Oscar jump up and panick. He quickly crouched down to be at the same level as the kid.

“Alex, what did we say about yelling?” Oscar said softly, trying to push back his flushed face. Alex looked down towards his shoes shaking his head.

“That we shouldn’t do it. I’m sorry Mr. Oscar. I was trying to get your attention because I needed to tell you something but you were looking at Miss L/n. I heard that in their class they are making cupcakes today. What are we going to do? It’s Halloween we should do something fun” Alex said, raising his head and grinning excitedly towards Oscar. Oscar mirrored his expression.

“Well, I talked to Principal Norris and he said we could race cars outside. So after we exchange candies right after recess we can race” Oscar said resting his hands on his shoulder grinning. Alex quickly squealed in excitement jumping up and down. Oscar followed his actions moving side to side. “Wait, what did you need to tell me that was so urgent?” Oscar said quickly remembering what were his true intentions.

“I actually don’t remember” Alex said, making a thinking face.

"Mister Oscar! Jeremy is kicking me again" a kid screamed from inside the classroom making Oscar quickly enter the room to detain the fiasco before it got worse. Jeremy was quite the fighter and he didn’t feel like cleaning up blood today.

Oscar Piastri didn't expect to like being a teacher as much as he did but now after being a teacher for about a year, he was starting to get the hang of things. He enjoyed the kids' presence, they made things actually fun for him and the best thing, aside from the kids, was Y/n L/n. Having Y/n around made the teaching experience quite refreshing. She was around the same age as Oscar but she had been teaching there for about four years just like her close friend and English teacher, Logan Sargent. Oscar had tried several times to get in their little group but it was quite hard for him to click with the teachers. It wasn’t that they were mean or anything, it was the fact that they didn’t take the rookie teacher seriously. Adding to the fact that Oscar wasn’t the best when getting social clues, for some people, it felt like they were talking to a child while they were talking to Oscarl.

“Mister Piastri, I wanted to inform you that the camera crew just got here today, so don't be surprised if they catch your fine ass. You look quite attractive with that, costume." Principal Norris said, peeking his head through the door. Oscar turned around with a scared look on his face seeing Lando wiggle his eyebrows at him. Oscar’s hands dropped stopping the two kids that were originally fighting.

"Excuse me?" Oscar asked, raising an eyebrow at Lando making him wink at Oscar.

"I'm just playing but remember that they...Oh look they are here now! Here we have Mr. Oscar Piastri. He teaches first grade and he's been working here for about a year, yet he can barely get a hold of his class but we are working on it. So enjoy your time with him. The hottest teacher in the school. Bye" he exclaimed while he left Oscar standing agape in the hallway with a camera crew filming straight at him. Oscar quickly took his glasses off, cleaning them on his pants nervously while the kids screamed as loud as they could in the back of the class, the kids once again starting their fight.

“First of all, I'm not the hottest teacher here, I'll leave that to Charles and second of all I have perfect control of my kids. Didn’t you guys catch on camera me stopping the fight? " Oscar exclaimed defensively while putting on his glasses and looking at the camera clearly stressed. His hair was now messy pointing to several directions as his breath was unsteady.

"Mr. Oscarl! Help me, Jeremy is still pulling my hair now" a kid yelled from the back of the class quickly gaining Oscar’s attention. He quickly ran towards the back of the class and the camera crew quickly behind him. Oscar tried pulling Jeremy off one of the other kids but he wouldn't move.

"Jeremiah, let go!" Oscar said while falling desperately to get his attention.

"I'm not letting go Osc! She bit me with her stupid vampire teeth" Jeremiah yelled, still not letting go of his grip becoming stronger.

"First, I told you even though you are stronger than me to call me Mr. Oscar. Second of all, we said no bad words in the classroom and that included the word stupid. Now let's just try to be in a loving mood, it's Halloween, don't you guys want to be in a loving mood?!" Oscar asked desperately, trying to convince the kids to let go of each other. All the kids around them were unphased by the interaction, exchanging candies while the fiasco unfolds.

"NO!" Both of the kids exclaim pushing Oscar down towards the floor. He closed his eyes in pain waiting for a few seconds for the floor to eat him alive. He let out a sigh, dragging himself to one of the classroom doors praying that someone, beside Lando or Y/n, would help him out.

"How are you kids so strong?! Verstappen! Verstappen please, please help me. Verstappen I know you can see me" Oscar exclaimed as he gripped on the side of the door from the floor. He reached forward holding his leg desperately not wanting him to move. Verstappen stopped dead in his tracks staring down at Oscar with pity. His eyes were nearly covered in tears as he begged him to come and help. Verstappen looked towards the break room as he turned his back from it, taking a step into the classroom but not before quickly rolling his eyes at Oscar. Instantly the kids stopped fighting while the ones that were exchanging candies sat down hiding their sweets.

"How?" Oscar mouthed to the camera while watching the kids stay like statues with Verstappen.

"I'm Max Verstappen. Please do not associate me with the principal or I will call the authorities against you. If it were my decision, I would have been principal and I would have said no to this little filming festival you have going around here. But since l am not principal, I have to answer your dumb questions. I am the other second grade teacher here at Box elementary. The only person I don't get annoyed at in this school is possibly Oscar. He isn't the worst teacher in the world but he isn't the greatest. Kids here can be little shits but I have them under control. Oscar on the other hand doesn't. He lacks control and I truly believe he's one of the kids." Verstappen said to the camera while moving to the side to let into view a giggling Oscar Piastri exchanging his candies with his students excitedly.

Meanwhile, Logan and Carlos walked together to the break lounge ready to eat their lunch and enjoy their break. Both of them worked on the second floor with the middle school kids and they were exhausted.

"Good evening, I'm Logan and I teach seventh grade english. I've been in this school for four years and quite frankly still don't know why I've stayed so long."

Carlos sat down taking his food out of his neatly prepared lunch box while Logan took his mug to serve himself some coffee. Both of them took in the wonderful peace and quiet that surrounded the break lounge, something that it always lacked. But the peace and quiet was interrupted by the door slamming open and a visually alarmed Oscar coming through, Verstappen following behind shortly after.

"I'm so done with those little pieces of sh.. You" Oscar took a deep breath pointing at the cameramen. "Stop following me with those stupid cameras. You're making me seem like I'm a bad teacher” he said while his eyes twitched, making Logan hide a chuckle with a cough. He continued to drink his coffee attempting to calm himself.

"I don't think they're making you seem like a bad teacher, maybe you're just being one” Carlos responded while taking a bite of his sandwich making Logan "cough" even louder.

"Carlos. I came to this school the same time Oscar Piastri did and it still surprises me that he is still here. There were fifty new teachers and surprisingly the only two left are Oscar Piastri and me, I thought he was going to be the first one to leave, yet here he is, still struggling and still not getting the hang of it" Carlos said to the camera while fixing the nonexistent wrinkles of his button up shirt.

"Well, I have you know I am a great teacher! My students say it to me all the time when I get emotional. I bet you don’t even cry with your students. My students and I had a Halloween party, something that didn't even cross your mind to have today. We exchanged candies, had a dance party and watched movies. They love me. I love them. And all you did was bore you kids to death today, I suppose. What did you do? Make them read" Oscar responded angrily while looking at the peaceful Carlos.

"Actually, yes. We read about the history behind witches. Something you can actually do to learn since you come to school to learn not to party. But I guess you didn't get the memo since all you did was go to frat parties in college" he said taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Jokes on you I wasn't even in a frat. But I just know your kids wanted lollipops and by the way I gave my kids lollipops and none of them threw them at each other so I believe that's progress" Oscar said proudly while looking in the fridge giving his back to the teachers letting them see the back part of his robes covered in lollipops.

"Congrats! You are getting better, Piastri. I am really proud” Logan applauded while placing his cup of coffee down.

“But I don't think you should get your kids hopes up with Halloween. You should show them the gory things that I showed mine today. Real, scary, halloween movies. When they’ll get older they will thank you for teaching them how to survive a psycho. ” Verstappen responded while sitting next to Carlos.

"Aren't your kids seven?" Carlos asked, concerned, raising an eyebrow at Verstappen.

"And your point is, Carlos Jr.?" Verstappen asked while taking a sip of his black coffee.

“I already told you, my name isn't Carlos Jr., it's just Carlos" he said seriously while glaring at the man.

"I will not stop spreading love in my classroom.I love Halloween and no one and I mean no one loves Halloween more than me" Oscar exclaimed sitting down with his arms crossed.

"Hellooo fellow teachers!" Y/n exclaimed throwing flower petals in the air while entering the break room.

"I highly doubt it" Logan responded while looking at his best friend, dressed up in her vibrant yellow costume. She was holding onto a basket filled with sweets while her wings neatly placed on her back. Her hair wasn't styled as usual, instead it was pulled back in two braids with her antennas.

"Happy Halloween to you, and you, and you" She said, handing a beautifully devoted Halloween box to each of her coworkers.

Carlos smiled softly, Logan whispered a thanks and Verstappen rolled his eyes, but deep down he loved it. Y/n headed towards Oscar giving him a bigger box than the rest. Oscar blushed hard, taking in the gift in his hand while Y/n placed down her things.

"Thank you, Y/n. I appreciate it a lot" he said smiling softly but his smile got wider when she sat next to him.

"You're welcome Oscar! By the way, I love your red bull costume. I really like the redbull drink. A lot of my students dressed the same. It looks cute" she said, playing with the ends of Oscar’s long sleeve .

“Actually, Y/n. Oscar’s dressed as An...” Verstappen started but quickly got cut off by Oscar slamming his hand against the table.

"Thank you, Y/n! I was trying really hard for that can look. I really like your bee costume. I know everyone was buzzing about it” he said excitedly while trying to hide his blush. Y/n threw her head laughing hitting Oscar’s shoulder softly making Oscar blush more if it even was possible.

"Thank you! I wanted to go all out today, I heard that the party was going to be the bomb.” Y/n said winking towards Oscar which made him grin excitedly.

“You know about that?” Oscar asked confusedly, while taking his food out of his bag.

“Yeah! My kids were telling me about some big plan you have after recess. I was so excited for the afternoon party I forgot to bring lunch" She smiled at her while opening a water bottle and looking down at her notes to fix anything that was incorrect for the party the school was throwing later today.

"Here, have my sandwich" Oscar exclaimed quickly, planting the sandwich next to her. She looked up from her paper shaking her head.

“Don't worry about it Oscar. You should eat, I can wait until later.” She responded by trying to hand it back at him but he shook his head.

"Have it, I'm not even hungry" Oscar said smiling softly while shrugging trying not to worry her.

"Thank you Oscar! I owe you one" Y/n said, taking a bite while Logan looked at the camera suspiciously while drinking his coffee.

"What? I'm not hungry. My stomach is filled with brownies, candies and cupcakes. Plus the cupcake I had this morning, if Y/n’s hungry I wouldn't mind giving her my food!! Or anyone not necessarily her, I give my food to everyone that wants it, look. Here have this kiwi" Oscar exclaimed while taking out the kiwi he was previously eating and handing it in to a kid that was passing by. The kid stared at Oscar weirdly before continuing walking.

"So,what are you guys doing tonight? Anything special planned in this spooky evening" Oscar asked, trying to change the subject while they all peacefully ate. Everyone stayed quiet but Oscar anxiously taped his finger on the round table making Carlos groan and speak up.

"Well, since you're being nosy, I rented out a movie theater to watch movies tonight with my girlfriend” Carlos responded, closing his book. Y/n squealed, turning to him with a smile. "It was so romantic. What did you get?" Carlos asked, directing himself to Y/n, but she simply shrugged.

“The kids gave me some beautifully made cupcakes, those that count?" She asked sitting next to him, Verstappen laughed making the two stare at him.

“It's sad that you want that to count," he said, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Don't listen to Max, he's just jealous the kids didn't give him anything because they are scared of him” Carlos said, rolling his eyes as Y/n fixed her posture awkwardly.

"My kids love me, they know my second grade class is the superior one and they did get me sweets. I just don't like them" Verstappen responded, getting a bag of candy and throwing it on the table leaving Carlos in shock.

"Well, maybe you'll get something later, the night is still young" Oscar said suspiciously while looking at the camera with a smirk. As if it were by cue a delivery man opens the door holding a big strawberry bouquet.

“Delivery for Y/n L/n” the delivery man said while reading the card. Y/n excitedly got up taking it in her hands and placing it down on the table picking the card to see from who it was. She quickly smiled at the delivery man saying thanks before he left. All the teachers looked at the bouquet waiting for her to say who it was from.

"Who is it from?" Oscar asked while standing next to her with a huge grin on his face.

"It says spooky berries from a secret admirer, " she said, picking a strawberry and eating it.

Logan, Carlos and Verstappen stood outside in the hallways with the camera crew Filming them.

"It was Oscar" the trio said at the same time while rolling their eyes.

"This is beautiful! The person that got me this has to know me really well, I love chocolate covered strawberries. They are literally the best thing to ever exist on this planet"

" You see! I know her well!! I got her that gift and went all out! I'm proud of my hard work and the smile on her face is to die for. So ha! I win Halloween" Oscar exclaimed happily at the camera while grinning.

"Breaks over, I need my teachers in their classrooms so they can take the kids to that dumb party Y/n’s making" Lando said entering the lounge and getting himself some coffee.

"Nothing you can do will ruin my mood today, Lando. So I will take that as a compliment" She responded, taking a picture of the strawberries.

"You got yourself that gift? That's sad, even for you L/n" Lando responded while taking a sip of the drink.

"Actually, it was a secret admirer," she responded, not even looking at him.

"Oscar, it was Oscar" Lando said, looking at the camera in the hallway while taking a bite of a strawberry he had taken from Y/n's gift.

"Also how are you guys enjoying the reality show we have going on here?" Lando asked, winking at the camera.

"I feel watched and stalked" Verstappen responded seriously.

"I didn't ask you. Oscar?" Lando turned his head towards Oscar who started to pick up his things so he could head back to his classroom.

"This isn't a reality show Lando. it's a documentary for schools with poor funding so I don't think we should be proud of that” he said while standing up and putting his tote bag on his shoulder.

"You know what I'm not proud of, the fact I haven't received my Valentine's Day gift yet" Lando said only for him to hear. Oscar shivers while looking at him with the same expression as before. "Now everyone chop chop. We don't have all day" he continued while applauding obnoxiously.

Everyone started leaving the teachers lounge leaving Oscar to himself to open the box Y/n had given him, he slowly opened the box and opened his eyes wide when he saw the gift.

"Oh, I've known about Oscars' crush ever since he started working here. But I love seeing the reactions he does when he thinks I don't know a thing about the little gestures he does for me. That's why I decided that I should give something back" Y/n said smiling to the camera holding the gift she had received from him. In the background you could see Oscar dancing excitedly and when Y/n turned around to look at him, he froze waving at her trying to act cool which Y/n responded with a smile while quickly turning to her classroom.

Oscar looked at his kids jumping up and down at the party and he smiled. He looked at the camera men and then down at his hands.

"I'm going on a date today" He said screaming while joining his kids in a dance battle.

Logan looked at Oscar and then at his best friend from the other side of the school gym and smiled softly at her.

"You asked him out, didn't you?" Logan asked, looking at Y/n.

"Yes, I think he’s cute." She responded while looking at the dancing Oscar. Both of them looked at how Oscar huddled up with the kids pushing a car to make the kids star driving. A few seconds in, a kid “runs’ over another ones leg making them cry.

“I though he meant toy cars?! Seven year olds don’t have diverse license”

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honeybunhottie · 3 months ago

Note

How do you think it would go if Josh was with Chris’s younger sister

How it would be if Josh was dating Chris’s younger sister

Oh my gosh, I love this request! I actually had some friends in this situation last year, so it’s kind of funny to be writing about it now. Also, this will be before Josh’s sisters go missing, or an AU where they never do. We need everyone to be silly and happy here

Chris’s side of things

Josh and Chris are best buds, they have been since the 3rd grade

They’ve been with each other through thick and thin, they share everything with each other!

Jokes, clothes, food, the list goes on

One thing that was never on the table, though, was their younger siblings.

Chris was fine in that aspect. He’d never felt anything romantic towards Beth and Hannah, as sweet as they were. He’d had his eye on Ashley for a while.

But when Josh starts leaving lingering gazes toward his baby sister, he subconsciously begins feeling a little protective.

(she’s only a year younger, but it pisses her off when he calls her that so he continues to do so)

There wasn’t concrete evidence yet that Josh liked her, but Chris's suspicion grew when he started inviting her to join their group hangouts.

and when he saw Josh taking his spot next to her at the movies, whispering into her ear instead of cracking jokes with him

and when he always seemed to be searching the crowd for her at parties

and when he kept not so subtly asking Chris questions about what she was into, if she was single, etc

(His hackles were raised with that one, but Josh rushed to say he was joking) he wasn’t

But… Josh couldn’t like HIS little sister, right?

Josh was his best bro, but… c’mon! He’s kind of a perv. And he had a few…issues. Definitely NOT the type to bring home to her high-strung mother.

But that didn't matter, because Josh definitely doesn’t like his baby sis

At least that's what Chris chooses to believe

Ignorance is bliss, as they say

Until he is forced to acknowledge it when he’s heading to the bathroom at a party and sees you and Josh making out in the hallway

All previous bladder needs are out the window as he freaks out at both of you

Eventually, he gets over it, he knows Josh well enough to know he won’t hurt you intentionally. And if he does, he’s sure Hannah and Beth will join him in kicking Josh’s ass <3

Josh’s side of things

Josh has known Chris since he was like 9, and they’ve been locked in ever since

He knew Chris had a little sister, but they’d never spoken more than 8 words to each other in one sitting

Except for the one time he stayed at Chris’s house and she “beat” him at Mario Kart

IT WAS TOTALLY HIS WIN UNTIL SHE BLUE-SHELLED HIM

needless to say, he still held a slight grudge

It didn’t help that they didn’t go to the same school as them, staying with her mother during the week and Chris’s family on the weekends

The messy dynamic was lost on Josh, but it worked for them

It wasn’t until the summer of junior year that he met her again.

There was a party, there was banter and there was dancing, and there was this beautiful girl who he might’ve been a little in love with

and also he may have been a little drunk

So imagine his shock when his best bud comes around and reintroduces the pair

Josh fought very hard to control his facial expression from contorting into shock

He bit his tongue and forced a grin with only one thought on his mind as he looked between the pair, noticing a few similar facial features

‘Oh shit’

Of course, Josh isn’t a quitter

So when he woke up in the morning with a text from her, thanking him for the dance and for the invite to hang out with everyone next week, he cursed his drunk perseverance

It would be the smart thing to leave his best friend's sister alone

It never ends well in all of the movies he watches

Betrayal, fistfights, arguments, the whole shebang he would gladly like to avoid with Chris

He resolves to see her at the hangout, have a good time, then never talk to her again

except that doesn’t happen

Somehow she charms another invite out of him, and another, and another

And before he knows it, Josh is in deep

He tries to be subtle about it, inviting her to group outings, asking Chris questions about his sister, real lowkey stuff

When he casually asks her on a date, with just the two of them, they mutually agree it’s best if they keep it quiet for now

And when they officially start going out, they try even harder to hide their relationship until the time is right for Chris to find out

“the right time” ended up being at Holly Becker’s 4th of July party as they made out in the mostly empty hallway

Never in his life had Josh been so freaked out

thankfully, Chris seemed to take it well

It feels like a weight is off his chest now that he can be honest with him again

Plus, now he can go back to making horny jokes without feeling weird about it

(he is dodging Chris’s punches each time he opens his mouth)

Your side of things

You’d always thought Chris’s best friend was kind of cute

Of course, as all childhood crushes go, the best way to show it was in competitiveness and aggression

You absolutely demolished that poor kid in Mario Kart, many times in fact

But when things between your parents got more tense, you stopped being able to hang out as much

It was weird at first, but soon with your new school your mind was filled with other things and you nearly forgot all about that Josh guy your brother always hung out with

Aside from a few photos he posted on his socials or the rare glimpse of them on the weekends, you hardly even saw him

So when the summer of Sophmore year comes up and Chris invites you to go to one of his friend’s infamous parties, the guy is the last person on your mind

You’re in your hottest outfit, your hair and makeup immaculate, your glasses traded for contacts, and ready to let loose

And let loose you do! Before you know it there’s this funny guy who’s kind of cute dancing with you the entire night

and when Chris comes trotting over introducing the guy as his best bud, you giggle a little inside

You’re about to be the main character of one of those brother’s best friend stories, and you can’t wait!

I feel like there's way less risk for you in this, because 1. Chris can’t stay mad at you, and 2. You’re kind of your own person at this point, free to date who you want to

So you gladly accept all of the charming Josh’s invitations to parties and hangouts

and you lean into him when he throws his arm over you at the movies, and laugh as he whispers jokes into your ear

and laugh it off when Chris finds you both in the hallway at Holly Becker’s party, because you know that he won’t stay mad at Josh forever

Lil fun things

You and Josh fight who can have him as your best man/man of honor

(Josh wins and counts that as revenge against the Blue Shell incident of 2006)

Holidays are the best with the two families combined

When you guys announce that you’re pregnant, Chris is ecstatic before being immensely grossed out

He enjoys being the best uncle ever though

I loved writing this! Hope you enjoyed too! Please send more requests!!

#josh washington x reader #until dawn x reader #until dawn #until dawn headcanons #chris hartley #josh washington

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lavendermunson · 1 year ago

Text

dancing with our hands tied — eddie munson

୨ৎ ˙ ˖

summary Eddie seems to live in constant hell except when he is with you.

tags +18. eventual smut. friends to best friends to lovers. angst. pining. no upside down. slight chrissy x eddie and jealous reader. fingering. p in v without protection; be smart irl. no use of y/n, eddie calls reader peach. lose of virginity.

tw eddie has an older brother who punches him. slight mentions of blood and violence. alcohol. mention of drugs. if i forgot anything lmk!

w.c 7.6 k

a/n hey people! it’s the first time i write something like this. the fic is divided in tiny chapters that are titled by the lines of taylor’s song (see title) i hope it’s easy to understand and let me know if you like the format ♡ enjoy!

I. First sight, we love without reason.

It came to you as a surprise, really. The moment he sat down on the nearest seat to start the tutoring lesson. The secret is Eddie has always been good at English, it’s a thing among others that he kept as a secret. You weren’t sure why he would hide it, even lie about it.

You and Eddie became friends easily. But you wish the relationship had more meaning, you weren’t friends just school friends. The worst kind of friend you could be with someone as cool and pretty as Eddie.

One day, in the early morning of a cloudy Thursday Eddie attended school with a black eye. He rushed past you mumbling a kind Hey and going his way. You said hi back but it was too late, he was gone.

You missed him the rest of the day, he didn’t show up to class. His friends were alone at lunch. There was no sign of Eddie until later, tutoring sessions.

He slumps on the chair next to you, taking a deep breath and scratching his scalp nervously. His hands were shaking as he started to scribble on your textbook.

Your mind wasn’t focused on the textbook once, you looked longingly at the maroon-tinted bruise on his eye. A cut, maybe 12 hours old, rested on the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting” you whispered “I can’t keep my eyes off…your… are you okay, Eddie?” you pointed your finger at his eye, and he turned his head to look at you.

“Yeah, no don’t worry” he sighs, shifting uncomfortably in the wooden chair and taking a deep look at your face.

Your mouth has formed a pout and your brows are furrowed, Eddie tried to read your mind and he succeeded. You were worried.

“My stupid older brother, he comes in unexpectedly, and when I tried to kick him out of the trailer he punched me”

“Oh, I’m so sorry Eddie” You lean your head to the side, his face looks better from this angle.

He looks tired, the punch looks like it hurts a lot, more if it came from a person of his own bloodline.

“You know what, we can study another time and you can go rest” Your hands are quick to close the textbook, gathering all your stuff as Eddie’s body comes closer to you.

He takes your wrist on his hand, with a little more pressure than intended. When your mouth leans to the side he realizes he is hurting you (not too much, but still he didn’t mean it).

“No, I'm sorry” he drops your hand on your lap, delicately “We can study, I'm fine. Please I need the money”

“I know, I will pay you. But I can’t sit here and I can't focus knowing you are in pain or your mind is somewhere else” You smile at him, and he nods.

“Thanks…I'm having a really bad day. I cannot thank you enough, tomorrow we can study double I promise”

“Don’t worry, I got you” You head out of the library beside him “Take care of that, it looks like it’s going to stay there for a while”

He giggles at your comment, you are not sure why. You pay him for today and he smiles at you.

“Thank you, Peach”

He didn’t talk about his family much, he wasn’t entirely sure if there was something interesting to talk about. His mom left a few years ago, along with his older brother, leaving little Eddie and Uncle Wayne alone.

You knew Wayne from one of Eddie’s stories he told you about. He loves the man like he is his own father, but he is in a lot of debt with him.

Wayne takes care of Eddie as if he’s his own child. He surely loves Eddie like that. He works most of the day and night leaving his nephew alone in the trailer park.

One of those cold and lonely nights Eddie’s brother came to visit him at the trailer park only seeking some money. He was out of luck, and so was Eddie, when his furious brother came in and punched him in the face. Not once, but twice.

Eddie’s head and face hurt the rest of the night. He unfortunately overslept and didn’t get a chance to start school properly so he chose to show up just to the tutoring sessions. He needed the cash, you needed help.

II. Picture of your face in an invisible locket.

A week has passed since Eddie’s brother came to town. You’ve grown closer to Eddie than before.

You hang out after school now that tutoring lessons are over, he invites you to Hellfire Club to watch the campaigns and you sit there watching the whole thing unravel. He had a great imagination, and a wonderful mind full of creative stories and riddles. The kids enjoy his company as much as you do.

He talked about his problems at home with you, trying to get the ugly feeling out of his chest. You listened to him buying him a cup of ice cream and enjoying the wonderful summer breeze.

“I enjoy being with you,” he said “You are a great friend, Peach”

You smiled at him. He smiled at you. His dimples showed up for the first time since you’ve known him, a simple gesture that knocked some sense on you, you had a crush on him.

“Me too, Eds”

Your relationship with Eddie has evolved, not only do you have pet names for each other but it seems like you are best friends. It’s been some weeks since the first time he offered to tutor you and you accepted immediately.

You’ve always liked Eddie, he is his true self every time and he is proud of it.

You admire it.

People at school used to call him awful names, it was always like that until he met Chrissy. The popular kids are the ones that make more fun of him as if it wasn’t exhausting for them to be assholes and jerks nine hours a day. They have toned their jokes down knowing that the queen of Hawkins has a soft place for Eddie and he is more than happy hanging out with her sometimes.

That made your heart ache, it was a dreadful feeling.

After spending some time with Eddie you went home. Still under that lavender haze of accepting that you had a crush on him for a while. It was embarrassing to you only because you were so, so obsessed with him.

His face. His hands. His scent. His hair. Realizing everything about him made you crazy was scary, he only had eyes for one person who was the most perfect cheerleader in the history of high school.

To distract your mind from all the lousy thoughts you took a shower, it was quick, you needed to brush off the sweat and release some tension with a thorough massage on your scalp. The lavender shampoo lingered in the air, relaxing every inch of your body.

After the shower, it was time to eat some dinner. Instead of making a complicated meal you decided to heat some leftovers from yesterday and enjoy your evening eating and dancing in the kitchen with some of your old records playing upbeat songs to cheer you up.

A knock on your door makes you jump after finishing dinner. No one used to come by at this hour, not when your dad was out of town.

You get close to the door and look through the peephole to see who’s interrupting your godly moment. It was Eddie.

A gasp falls out of your mouth and you open the door as quickly as possible. You meet Eddie’s trembling body standing in front of you, his lip is bleeding and his eyes are watering.

“God, Eds…” you whisper, he leans closer to you, wrapping his hands around your neck and hugging you.

You didn’t say anything else, just mirrored his movements and wrapped his waist with your arms. Taking a few steps back and leading him in, you close the door with your foot and he stands there, still not letting you go.

You rub his back as he tries to ease his breath.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know where else to go so I-” he takes a step back breaking contact with you, his head falls as his eyes look at his feet.

“He, he did this to you again?” he broke contact so fast you decided to stay in your place, careful not to overwhelm him with unwanted touches.

“Yeah, shit shit, sorry I should've called. My mind sort of blacked out and the only thing I could remember was your street and the color of your house, the one with the weird birdhouse…”

“Eds, it’s okay” you interrupt “Let me help you, alright? let me clean your wound and make you some hot chocolate”

He nods, walking with you to the bathroom and past your bedroom. You are quick to find the first aid kit, taking some rubbing alcohol and gauze to clean Eddie’s cut. He hisses at the stingy feeling in his mouth, you apologize and he encourages you to continue.

And there you are, with the boy that you like so much. He leans on the counter closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel at peace with you around him.

You stand between his legs, his inner thighs rubbing the exposed skin of your thighs. The ungodly thoughts need to go away so you blink pretty fast, focusing, it’s not the moment nor the place nor the person.

You finish up cleaning his wound and placing a band aid over it to avoid any sort of discomfort while it heals.

“It’s ready” Eddie opens his eyes, finding you in front of him. So close. The white light in the bathroom makes you look like an angel.

“Thank you, peach” he squeezes your cheek slightly. Neither of you move from where you stand, so close to each other but so far at the same time.

“It’s nothing, let’s make you some chocolate”

“Wait, I'm not really hungry. I need to clear my mind and feel at peace for a bit, ‘m just gonna go back to my place to rest but again… thank you” he stands up straight and you step back, missing the heat of his body.

“No! you can’t go back, it's dangerous. My dad is out of town, you can stay here”

His head leans down to one side, he looks at you concerned.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. Anything for my best friend” you say. It’s the first time you call him like that. It’s the first time anybody has called him like that.

“Thank you, again, thank you”

“No problem, let me get you some fresh clothes”

You get Eddie some of your oversized clothes that only get out of your closet on rainy days. You give him some space to change and freshen up in the bathroom, getting him a new toothbrush and a towel so he can wash his face.

When he gets out you offer him the guest room, he immediately denies it and asks if he can sleep with you. You shake your head and show him a gentle smile.

“Is this okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or bother you” he asks while you get the bed ready to sleep.

“It’s okay, Eds. I get that you don’t want to be alone, do not worry”

You get in bed, he drops his body beside you. Both of you rest your head on the pillows while looking at the ceiling.

“You can stay here in the morning if you don’t want to go to school, I do have to go and hand in this paper I’ve been working on”

“Thank you, I owe you one,” he says, crossing his arms in front of his chest and letting out a sigh.

“You don’t, I’m happy to help you” You look at him, but he doesn’t look back. “Goodnight, Eds”

“Goodnight, sweetheart”

The pet name falls from his lips so beautifully.

You close your eyes with a smile plastered on your face, aware that the heat of your cheeks is present leaving a pink tint.

You are thankful it’s dark and Eddie is about to fall asleep so he won’t notice.

When you fall asleep Eddie does too. It takes him a couple of seconds to get into a deep sleep, he hasn’t slept like this in weeks, all thanks to the torture of his stupid brother and the constant thought of him coming back to punch him.

He feels safe around you and he is more than grateful to be your friend.

III. ‘Cause it’s gravity, keeping you with me.

Eddie has been staying over at your house multiple times, Your dad is out of town and you appreciate the company, his company. Sometimes he comes with you right after school, other times after he hangs out with Chrissy. You are not sure of what kind of relationship they have but it still hurts your heart every time he laughs at something she says.

You are thankful for having him over. The nights consist of movies, old tv shows, watching the commercials on the tv, and listing in your head what to buy next for these reunions.

The last slice of pizza remains in the box, it should be cold and washy but

Eddie is fine with it. He watches you from the corner of his eye, your gaze glued to him.

“Sorry, did you want the last slice?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts into reality.

“Huh? No, no you have it”

“Sure?”

“I hate it when the pizza is cold” Your mouth falls to the side, and you look at the slice with disgust.

“Bummer, I’ll have this baby for myself”

He raises his hand with the slice between his fingers, his head falls to the back and he takes a bite of the tip of the slice. You watch him in awe, not really thinking about how weird it is to watch Eddie eat, but your eyes can never leave his face. His mouth opens and his jaw tightens when he takes a bite, and another, and another until he finishes it.

“Don’t know why you pushed this aside, it was so good”

The corner of his mouth is full of tomato sauce and cheese grease, you laugh at him shaking your head.

“You have something… there” you point with your finger, Eddie furrows his brows and leans his head to the side looking like a confused puppy.

“Where? Here?” He wipes his mouth and smiles victorious, although it is the opposite side.

“No, here”

You get closer to him. His body is fully turned to the left so you sit in front of him kneeling.

He watches you getting close, he takes a deep breath as his Adam’s apple bobs as a result of his own nerves. You are too close, you’ve never been this close –just once when he hugged you – not even when you two are sleeping in your bed.

As you take the napkin to clean his face you get the opportunity to get closer, you wipe his mouth slowly and pinch his chin between your fingers. You breathe and he is mixing up, the room feels suddenly too hot.

Eddie wants to give in, he gets his head closer. He doesn't care about anything, just you. The only source of light is the TV which gives a shadow of multiple colors on your face, it’s adorable. Your body, your naked thighs, your pretty face so close. He is about to kiss you until you speak.

Shit.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot”

“How do you punch someone?” you ask, he shakes his head confused shaking off the thoughts he had earlier. He was so close to kissing you, but he couldn’t. You are his best friend.

“Wow,” Eddie laughs, grinning “Who do you want to punch, exactly?”

“I met someone”

Your news hit Eddie in the chest. He shouldn’t be feeling like this but he is… jealous?

“He told me to go to this party with him… and a friend told me I should be prepared for everything”

“Everything? Like if he wants to get in your pants you’d punch him?”

“Only if he is a real jerk and thinks he is too smart”

Eddie nods, he takes your hands in his standing up from the couch. You follow him.

“Alright, pay attention”

He drops one of your hands and takes your dominant hand in his, the cold rings on his fingers keep you from falling apart from his touch.

“The secret is in your hips and shoulders, that’s where the power comes from okay?”

“Yeah, but please don’t teach me how to kill someone. I just want to throw a little punch if needed”

“I know, peach” he laughs “Stand up like this” His stance looks professional, maybe he has done this before. Maybe to protect himself from his older brother.

“First things first, your stance gives you balance so you don’t fall to the floor and break your nose too y’know?”

“Am I going to break his nose?” you ask, a little scared of what you are getting yourself into.

“No! ‘M just saying. You don’t have a lot of strength to do that, don’t worry”

“Like this?” You mimic his stance, feeling a little awkward.

"Exactly. Now, focus on your fist” He hasn’t dropped your hand yet “Curl your fingers in, and tuck your thumb under them. This way, you won't hurt your hand when you punch”

“Why do I feel like I shouldn't be learning this?”

“You are fine, watch” Your hands form a perfect fist, Eddie holds it in his hands and tries to set you up on the perfect stance. Your knuckles turn a bit white as you focus on the lesson “See? Perfect”

“I got it”

"Now punch me,” he says, he is serious.

“What?”

“C’mon I’ve taken the worst punches, bet yours will feel light as a feather” he grins. Inside he feels dumb for aching your touch so much even if it means taking a hit “Twist your body and extend your arm in a straight line, then go straight to my cheek” his fingertip touches his cheek “Not my nose! Please” he remarks, but at the same time he is encouraging you.

“Alright,” you do as he says, swinging your arm back and forth. Your fist comes into contact with his cheek and he groans in pain, his head falls to one side.

“Jesus H. Christ!” he caresses his cheek with the palm of his hand “I underestimated you” A chuckle falls from his lips, and you are covering your mouth with your hands surprised. Your eyes are glassy.

“No, no don’t cry I’m fine”

“I’m so sorry Eddie. I thought- fuck, I didn’t see that coming! I am so fucking-sorry, sorry” you cry, your cheeks glow red as embarrassment washes over you.

“No, don’t” he is still laughing “Oh god, come here”

Eddie opens his arms and wraps them around your shoulders. This is the second time you hug him, and this time it feels different. One of his hands rubs your back to calm you down as you keep murmuring sorry. He keeps thinking you are the most adorable thing on the planet.

“Do we count this as tutoring? Am I getting cash for getting punched in the face?” he chuckles.

You bury your face in his chest, hugging his body tightly. He feels you trying to get closer.

“Yeah, yeah if you want”

“I'm joking, peach, you did good!”

You smile at the praise, although he can’t see it.

“Thank you for teaching me”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It was a pleasure” he breaks the hug, and his hands come to rest on your arms. He is not giving up touching you “I hope whoever you punch… you do it harder than this one” he smiles.

As you watch his face, hypnotized, you smile back.

“I will, only if he is a jerk…”

“Or thinks he is too smart, gotcha” he interrupts, filling up the rest of the sentence “But you know if someone bothers you, you can call me and I will kick his ass right?”

“I’m a big girl, Eds. I can take care of myself”

“That I see! ‘M just offering, You did good honey” He pinches your cheek, and the new pet name hits right above your stomach where your anxiety rests. He has never called you that before, you feel the heat on your cheeks.

“We- uhm, we should sleep is getting late” You watch the clock, it is 3 am already.

“Oh shit, yeah. Let’s go”

IV. I’m a mess but i’m the mess that you wanted.

Watching Eddie kissing Chrissy was a punch on the tits. His hands are on her waist, she grabs his jacket getting closer. Their mouths were glued to each other. You were sure this was the night, this was the night you would tell Eddie your feelings, but instead, you decided to meet up with the guy you told him about. Ignoring your feelings for Eddie.

Nothing ever comes out as you wish, after punching the guy for trying to touch your ass after he didn’t even know you were in his math class, you punched him. Your hand hurts, but it was worth it.

You try to find Eddie but he isn’t around. Ignoring the feeling in your chest, you decide to fill the guilt and the secrets with alcohol.

After a lot of refills, the living room’s bottles are empty so you make your way around the house to find more. That’s when you find Eddie, you take your sixth? seventh? Cup of the night and walk to him.

“Eds!”

Your voice is like honey to him, he didn’t want to be here but as soon as Chrissy mentioned you were coming with “the guy” he wanted to be there. She was nowhere to be seen after spending some time with him.

“I did it! I punched him!” you mumble, proud of your achievement and so, so drunk.

“Fuck, I missed it?”

“Yeah, I have been looking for you everywhere to tell you” You lie, you’ve seen him multiple times and ignored him. It was a decision that sober you took. Drunk you is a little more insistent “I didn't think you were coming”

“Chrissy wanted to be here, I'm just keeping her company… was, she left” he looks around, but she is still somewhere else.

Her name rings in your ears, your stomach crumbles.

“Well, let’s get drunk!”

Deep down Eddie is grateful that the guy you were meeting up with fucked up everything and now you are with him. Chrissy is nowhere to be seen and you seem like you need someone to watch you. Take care of yourself.

You are so drunk, your whole body feels light and your head is in the clouds. Maybe you are a little bit high too.

“Can we find somewhere more quiet? I wanna smoke” Eddie finds himself screaming, the music getting louder with the minutes.

“Sure, let’s go”

You hold a red solo cup with something in it, enough to make you more tipsy. You follow Eddie outside, to the porch. The night is hot and Eddie realizes your dress is too short. He takes a deep breath, looking at your thighs as you take a sip from the cup.

Eddie lights a cigarette and takes a peek at the party from outside, The window leaves a space so the warm light of the house hits your face. The night at your house, the one when he almost kisses you comes back to his head. A side of your face lit up by the chaos inside, yet you look so peaceful, so beautiful.

“I need more of this. I- shit I forgot the n-name” you slur your words again, taking a step forward. Eddie takes your wrist in his hand, stopping you.

“What the fuuuuck?” you say.

“I think that’s enough for today, let’s go home”

Your whole body is on fire, all of your insides begging for more alcohol.

“Home? What? I didn’t know we lived together!”

“C’mon, peach. You know what I mean” Eddie’s cigarette bounces on his mouth, his voice is firm and his free hand comes to cup your waist.

“No, no. Let’s go dance here” You take his hand, the alcohol makes you bold. He follows you to the living room after dropping his cigarette.

The music is too loud, you empty the cup you had and throw it away.

“I’ll be right back, need to take a piss'” Eddie says, disappearing. You don’t hear him.

His “girlfriend” is still ignoring him, but he remembers what she said. She got mad because he was looking for you, and she got jealous too. Chrissy wanted all the attention but Eddie was giving it to you.

He stopped eating lunch with her, he was with you instead. Talking about random tv commercials that you thought were clever, it was some of an inside joke.

As he comes back from the bathroom he hears a crowd cheering, he is so done with this party, tired of the happy sappy music playing over and over, and the smell of sweat and alcohol makes him sick. He makes an effort to find you and he does.

There you are, standing on the table dancing. You were dancing, making some sexual moves that all the guys were screaming. Your hips move as the music gets to your ears, the whole room electrified by this little show.

Eddie’s face goes beet red, he can’t take this. He isn’t enjoying this.

Jealousy takes over him and he grabs your hand, yanking you down and letting you fall on his shoulder.

He carries you away from the table, a hand comes behind your back and he places his palm on your ass in an attempt to stop your dress from going up. You feel the cold of his rings again, your whole body lights up in anger as he carries you outside.

“Let me down! Eddie, I'm not joking!”

“Whine for as long as you want, I’m taking you home”

“Eddie please, I'm going to throw up”

He gives up, he lets you down and you pick up your breath. You place a hand on your belly trying to steady yourself and make the nausea go away.

“I need a moment… just give me a–”

“No! I know you will go back inside. You can’t even walk by yourself”

“Yes, I can! Don’t- don’t try to babysit me” you bicker.

He lets out a deep sigh, he is not letting you go back and you know it.

He wants to protect you, but more, he wants you to be with him and not dancing and showing off for anybody else. Yes, he was jealous and it was time to admit it. His feelings for Chrissy were never as intense as what he feels when he is with you.

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t call me that!” you scream, his eyes open wide.

“Please just-”

He tries to hug you but you don’t let him.

“I'm not your sweetheart! The other day you called me like that too and I- what are you doing to me?”

“I don’t- fuck, what are you talking about?” Eddie is confused, you are acting like you don’t want him around, and that hurts him.

“I- I like you, Eddie! I fucking like you so bad but you… You don’t and I know it!” you have no time to breathe, the alcohol encourages you to confess your feelings.

“Peach-”

“No! No, I- I like you since that first day of tutoring… I’ve liked you since then and you don’t know how fucking hard it is to oh- sleep with you and you- almost fucking kissed me and I panicked. This, you, her- it’s too much ah- go away!” you cry out, your head is spinning and you can feel your temples aching.

This wasn’t planned, future you will kill you for this. But right now in the heat of the moment, you let Eddie know how you feel. Your whole body aches and your heart is shattered.

“I know you like her! Just- I don't want to talk to you right now!”

A salty taste lingers in your mouth, your tears. Your arms ache from the sudden cold breeze as the night gets darker. It’s maybe two or three in the morning. You are drunk and high. Eddie’s brain seems to stop working.

He is quiet, looking at the grass under his feet. It hurts seeing you like this.

“Fuck!” you turn around and start walking, thinking you can walk home from here knowing it’s impossible.

“Hey! Let me take you home”

You stop.

“Please, I won't stay. I’ll drop you off and go to my trailer- you can’t get home by yourself” he is right.

You don’t move. Too heartbroken to say everything else or even turn around to see him. You are ashamed, he can’t even look you in the eyes.

He sees you waiting for him and he asks you to follow him to his van.

The ride home is long and torturous. He didn’t reciprocate your feelings, but you don’t blame him. Who could fall for a mess like you?

You fall asleep in the passenger seat of his van, he opens the door carefully and carries you to your bed. He wants to change your clothes but he knows it is not okay, he does peek at your naked thighs before covering your body with the sheets.

His calloused fingers move the hair off your face “I like you too, peach” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss your forehead before leaving. You can’t hear him of course, he knows it damn well.

V. Deep fears that the world would divide us.

The last time you talked to Eddie was two weeks ago. He didn’t know how to talk to you since that night, he didn’t know what to tell you. It is now summer break, you are in your bed facing the ceiling and letting the air from your window hit your sweaty body.

You were so bored. Without Eddie it feels like the world just turned gray, you regret everything you said that night. He never should’ve known.

He is now in his trailer, maybe with Chrissy. Your brain starts to think of a hundred scenarios. They could be spending time at the local pool, going to starcourt and eating ice cream, trying on some new clothes, or playing at the arcade.

You miss him. Your whole body aches without him by your side. Your bed feels so empty.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks, you are all alone in this gigantic house. It doesn’t feel like home, not without him.

You can’t pick a book and read it to kill time because every book you own is about romance.

You can’t watch movies without Eddie’s sudden comments.

You can’t even watch fucking commercials without him.

So you just let yourself on your bed, waiting for the sheets to swallow you whole.

Night came by after a nap, it was time to close the windows to stop the mosquitoes. It was time to eat so you headed down to the kitchen, the leftovers seem to always keep you company.

You wish he came back. Knocking at your door and getting in. Kissing you.

It doesn’t happen. To you. But it can happen to him.

You take your keys in your hands and head down to the trailer park, it isn’t that late so you go by yourself. With your clammy hands tapping on the steering wheel and a feeling of uncertainty.

It takes you from ten to fifteen minutes to get there and you park your car close to Eddie’s trailer. You’ve given him a ride home before, you know where he lives.

As you get closer to his trailer you hear screams. The door of his trailer opens suddenly and makes you jump. A tall and slightly old man comes out of the trailer, his white tank top is covered with some blood.

No, no, no. You mumble under your breath and run to the trailer. You find Eddie with a cut on his lip, his eye is purple already and his nose is bleeding.

“Eddie?” you whisper, he panics.

“No, no you can’t be here” he gets up from the floor and places his hands on your arms, pushing you out.

“Why? Please I just want to talk”

“You can’t be here! He- if he does something to you I’m never going to forgive myself Please just leave” his breath quickens, and his chest rises up and down. He is nervous, he is scared. The feelings are contagious.

“Come with me, please. Eds-”

“Just fucking leave! please please please, leave right now”

Nothing you do is going to convince him you should stay, as much as you want to. You hear screams of an angry man getting close to the trailer.

Running out back to your car and driving home, the radio becomes an annoying background noise screeching. Your heart is beating so fast out of fear, and your hands are trembling.

You set yourself down on your bed once you get home. You are scared of what could happen to Eddie. You know he is in danger and you also know he doesn’t want to see you.

The tears come back, your eyes are blurry and the walls feel like they are closing in and are about to crush you. You cover yourself with the sheets, as some type of protection, just like when you were little and scared. Yes, you are scared now, so fucking scared. But there is nothing you can do now so you sleep, and you fall asleep crying, again.

VI. I'd kiss you as the lights went out.

The next day goes by quickly, it’s currently midnight and you are sitting in front of the tv watching a random documentary about dolphins. You’ve slept all day so sleep is not an option. A huge bucket of ice cream in your hands gives you a cold feeling of serenity.

A knock on the door makes you jump, the thing you’ve been waiting for.

You open it quickly, and Eddie is there. You look at him with sadness in your eyes, some of his wounds have healed since yesterday.

“Before you say anything… I am sorry, sweetheart” You don’t let him in, and he doesn’t take a step forward “I like you too. I like you so much. I tried to date Chrissy because I thought I could get my mind distracted by the fact that I'm crazy for you. "He licks his lips, he moves his hands in the air as he always does when he explains something or rambles about a thing he loves.

“I was scared to tell you, that night at the party I swear all I could think about was- fuck, I wanted to rip those clothes off of you and kiss every part of your body but I was fucking terrified” his chest rises up and down, his heart is bumping in his ribcage. “I didn’t want to say anything because

I didn’t want to lose you, You are too good to me and I didn’t want you to be with someone like me-”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me” you interrupt, your own heart is beating so fast it could burst.

“I know, I know. That’s why I'm here… is it too late to hang out? Look, I slept all day and some little bird named Steve told me the sunrise at Lovers Lake looks awesome and I really just want to be with you”

You look at him, he is standing at your door confessing his love to you and, weirdly, it doesn’t feel like a dream. It all feels too real, too peaceful.

“A date at midnight? Did you plan this because you look like you even showered”

He lets out a big laugh. You see those dimples you love so much.

“I- I wouldn’t see it as a date because I think we’ve had tons of them” he shakes his head, and his curls bounce with the movement. “Pretty please? Join me on this adventure”

“We must be connected by some kind of thread because I slept all day too” you chuckle, he laughs with you “Sure, I want to be with you. Let me change and I’ll be right back”

You head upstairs quickly as Eddie goes back to his van for something.

With the quickest movements in the world, you manage to get yourself some pretty clothes, a tiny bit of makeup and fix your hair.

Running to the first floor to meet Eddie, your legs stop working as he stands up in your living room with a bouquet.

“You did have this prepared” You are smiling so wide your cheeks start to hurt, but you can stop it. After days of missing him, he is now here and everything feels right.

“I did. You look- you look beautiful” he looks at you from the bottom to the top, taking every detail of your figure. “I mean, you always look so beautiful I just-”

You come closer to him, he hands you the bouquet and you take it.

“You are beautiful too, Eds”

Your fingers touch his cheeks, he feels the warmth and breathes in to take everything in. Your scent, your touch, the closeness. Your cheeks have a pink tint from blushing and it makes you look so pretty. He leans in and in a second, his lips are touching yours.

You gasp at the sudden feeling, your whole body electrifies. His hands come to rest on your lower back, keeping you close to him. Your hands travel to his shoulders as you stand on your tippy toes.

His lips trap your bottom lip, sucking in your taste. Your whole heart flutters as your head goes back to catch some air.

“I wanted to do that for so long”

Goosebumps travel from your arms to your lips, missing him already.

“Me too” you bite your lip.

“C’mon, let’s go watch the sunrise sweetheart”

VII. Deep blue but you painted me golden.

The trip to Lovers Lake in the middle of the night resulted in love confessions and a heavy make out session, Eddie packed the back of his van with christmas lights, sheets, and blankets along with some pillows.

You and Eddie sitting in front of each other, his lips crashing into yours as sweet as honey.

“So yeah- that time when you sat down and started tutoring me I fought so hard to pay attention but I just loved the sound of your voice” You take a sip of beer.

“It was hard to teach you when your confused face is just so adorable.

Every pout you gave me was a kiss I wanted to give you” Eddie laughs.

“You can give me all the kisses you want now, I'm all yours”

Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat, his face glows pink and you let out a chuckle.

“Honey, I will” he takes a sip from his own beer, finishing it.

Alcohol makes both of you giddy, dozy, and dumb. Or maybe it’s just the love you have for each other.

“What time is it?” you murmur against his lips, his hands travel from your waist to the back of your head.

“I have- no idea” he stops, with his head leaned slightly back he watches you. Your lips are puffy and pink, his too. Both of you have a maroon tint on your cheeks. “It’s almost six, we have time” he peeks at the clock on his left hand.

“Alright, c’mere” With your hands placed on his shoulders, you try to get closer to him.

You kiss him. He is addicted to your taste already.

This time the kiss is messy and uncoordinated. His teeth collide with yours, saliva drops from the corner of your mouth.

With a firm hand caressing your back, Eddie helps you fall back with your body pressed against the sheets. Your head rests on a pillow as he gets comfortable on top of you.

You can feel the van getting hotter, a cloud of passion and love around you. Eddie makes a quick move with his knee as it presses against your hot core.

Absent-mindedly you start to grind against his knee, feeling the combination of friction with his sloppy kisses sending chills through your spine.

His lips now travel all the way to your neck, he presses sweet wet kisses against your skin.

“Eddie-” you whisper, letting the air out of your lungs. “I want you”

You have been dreaming about this, he has been dreaming about this.

This moment. This very golden moment is going to live in your head forever.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your collarbone, his lips tingling your skin.

“I’m sure, please”

He takes a break from the kisses, looking at your sweet face.

“Have you ever…?” he asks.

“No,” you bite your lip nervously.

“I’ll take care of you, I promise”

You nod, and he returns to kissing your neck. One of his hands travels to your thighs, he gives a slight massage on them making his way closer to the heat between your legs.

His cock gets hard against his pants as he feels the wet spot between your legs.

“You are so soaking wet, peach-”

With both hands, he takes off your panties, gently. He is so gentle with you.

“And so, so pretty”

Eddie starts to rub your clit with his thumb, his circular motions make your toes curl. It’s a sensation you’ve never felt before. With his mouth pressed against your jaw two of his fingers get inside you slowly, the pain of it quickly goes away and turns into lust. His fingers move in and out, making sure not to hurt you and make you feel good.

Your back curls and your thigh touches the bulge on his pants.

“Eds, please”

“What do you want, princess? Say it”

“I want you to fuck me”

Your voice makes his heart flutter. He leans in to kiss you more as he curls your fingers inside you.

“Oh god, Ed-Eddie” you mewl, your head too giddy to make up words.

“Good girl” his voice is now deeper, and his pupils dilate as his body perks up with electricity.

His fingers leave your pussy, you whine and he tells you not to worry.

He is gentle on taking your clothes off, smiling after admiring every inch of you. He wets his lips with his tongue admiring your figure.

“You are so fucking beautiful, princess”

“You too, baby”

The mood has clearly changed, you are still so horny and whining for each other. But Eddie has decided to take his time to make you feel like the princess you are.

Your hands help him take his clothes off, you admire his bare chest and your eyes focus on his tattoos. When he takes his pants and boxers off it is inevitable for you to take a look.

Your mouth waters at the sight. Eddie caresses your cheek and leaves small kisses on your lips as he goes inside you. You feel his hot cock

inside you, it twitches as you stretch and leave out a louder moan.

A grin shows up on Eddie’s face as he thrusts into you. Your nails scratch his back slightly. He feels his skin burn.

“Feeling good?”

“Yes, god yes”

He groans at the same time he increases the speed. Your moans get louder and he kisses your neck again, his bare chest meets yours and you whimper. He is moving on top of you, his cock inside you, and his chest rubs your nipples.

The tiny knot in your stomach untangles as chills go down your spine. You moan as your orgasm comes to you.

“You are such a good girl, go on cum for me”

His words are sweet, he keeps praising you as you finally come.

“So so good baby, I’m going to-”

He moves back but your hands are quick to tangle around his neck, not letting him leave.

“Do it, baby. Cum all over me”

Your encouraging words get into Eddie’s head, his thrust becomes sloppier as he relaxes and he comes into you as requested.

The hot sticky combination of cum slides down your legs as Eddie hugs you and pulls you to him to the side. His back is now pressed against the dirty sheets, your head falls in his chest.

He kisses your forehead and runs his hand through your back.

The sun starts to show up.

Eddie leans forward to open the back doors of his van, he comes back to his place next to you as quickly as possible and hugs you harder.

The lake glows with a yellow tint, the water now shows a baby blue color.

“I love you, sweetheart”

Surprised you turn your head to look at him, you give him a big smile.

“I love you too”

You stay there a couple of minutes, touching each other and loving each other.

there it is! my little baby. feedback is appreciated REBLOG TO SUPPORT THE AUTHOR! and DON’T throw a punch like it has been described!!!

tagging everyone who interacted, tysm 💕

@ali-r3n @witchwolflea @ghostlyfleur @littlegingerbat @live-love-be-unique @expiredcum21 @emma77645 @silent-stories @hellfirenacht @eddiemunson95 @tenthmoon

#leia writes ⊹ ꒱#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female oc #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x f!oc #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x best friend

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shelbgrey · 9 months ago

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heyyy can i request some sfw/nsfw hcs for alex karev?

thank you 💓💓💓

Dating Alex Karev headcanons

Paring: Alex Karev x Grey!reader

Summary: headcanons about dating Alex Karev -SMUT warning

A/n: I had fun writing this one :)

🩷MasterList ML2 🩷Dating Mood Board

Enemies to lovers kinda...

Your first encounter with him was your first day intern year. His locker was next to yours and you could feel him staring at you as he sat on one of the benches.

“nice tattoos” he smirked, shining a flashlight on your tattooed covered arm. Before you could replie, your Cousin Meredith pulled you away. “don't talk to her” she said a little too defensively

You and Alex butted heads a lot at first, you didn't like his attitude and you thought he was a total ass. Then you thought you were ridiculous for thinking he was hot.

After a few months you guys did become buddies. You'd make dark or dirty jokes together.

He would ignore his feelings for you. He knew you deserved better and he didn't want to add anymore darkness to his life.

He really didn't start showing his softer side until your aunt Elis came to the hospital. You opened up to him about how your aunt adopted you, but never really cared about you. He wanted to tell you about his crapy childhood, but wasn't ready to open up just yet.

He was just ready to be your shoulder to cry on.

You did ended up going to the hospital prom together. You asked him. “you wanna crash the prom together?” he down played his excitement, he was over the moon excited on the inside but on the out side he shrugged and said this nonchalantly: “sure, I guess we'll suffer together”

But that he wasn't suffering at all, he was so happy to have you in his arms all night. And for the first time he didn't care he was showing his softer side to the hospital. He just enjoyed himself and danced with you most of the night. “wow, Alex Karev can dance”

He just smirked and twirled you, he brought you back to his chest shaking his head playfully. “Shut up”

The first song you guys danced to was Jeff Healey's Angel Eyes, it would later be your guys song. At first he'd never admit out loud how much the word hit him right in the heart, lyrics like:

'There's just one more thing that I need to know, If this is love why does it scare me so? It must be somethin' only you can see, 'Cause girl I feel it when you look at me'

You weren't gonna tell him how nervous you felt to be there with him, you never went to your high school prom. It was nice to be surrounded by all the fairy lights and dance with a guy you've liked for a long time. Alex did catch on quickly and wanted to know what was on your mind. “what's wrong?”

You shrugged, feeling a bit embarrassed. “this is my first prom... I never really experienced my high school prom” Alex looked suprised. “why's that?”

“no guy ever really liked me or found me attractive enough to give me a chance... I was kinda of a geek back then”

“thoes guys are idiots. I would have killed to be with someone like you in high school”

You definitely saw something there in him that wasn't there before. You knew he was more than just a closed off jerk and that night only confirmed it. That same night he kissed you.

The kiss wasn't rough like you expected, it was gentle and sweet. He held the side of your face and kissed like you were the only person he wanted.

After that night he constantly flirted with you, making you blush or smirk.

Even when you started dating he would intentionally give you awful pick up lines just to make you laugh. “I hope you know CPR ‘cuz you just took my breath away”

“Alex... We're dating you don't need pick-up lines” he would just shrug and kiss your cheek. “I know, I just like making you laugh”

He's a total softy around you. He might seem like an ass to everyone else and people(especially George) might not understand why your with him, but he treats you like a queen.

Meredith did put the fear of god in him when you started dating. Like really did, Meredith and him were in a OR and she was holding a scaple and threatening his life when she found you and Alex were dating. “calm down, Mer. You think I'm gonna lose the most amazing thing in my life”

You were glad he was such a good friend to Izzie, especially when she lost Denny, but you couldn't help but be worried about their friendship later on. You and Alex had learned the hard way to be open with each other, so when it become a problem you decide to talk to him. “your just friends... Right?” you asked nervously. Alex gave a confused look and before he could awnser you talked over him in a nervous pace. “because she's a Model, Alex... She tall, blonde, and Beautiful... Any guy would want her... I'm short, I have tattoos, and dyed hair”

Alex cut you off by gently holding your face in his hands. “your what I want... Got it? I think your sexy as hell... And as for the dye job and tattoos I think is beautiful on you”

If your in the kitchen cooking he's under your feet sampling everything. It's even worse when you get a dog because you have to move around them both. “Alex, quit eating! I'm trying to cook”

“woman, I'm hungry!”

He probably didn't get decent home cooked meals till he started dating you. He loves your cooking.

When there's nothing on TV you'll watch old re-runs of Walker Texas Ranger. Which leads to walker and Chuck Norris inside jokes.

You also had conversations that's only normal to you two. Your friend learned that when you guys were in a OR gallery eating chips and ignoring the sugury. “who'd win in a fight Walker or Patrick Swayze?”

“if we're talkin' 'Road House' Swayze then, Patrick” Alex replied like it was the most obvious thing.

“but Chuck Norris knows martial arts” you reminded Alex. “but Swayze ripped a guy's throat out in 'Road house' ” Alex fired back. Alex loves 'Road house', it has Swayze and Jeff Healey(who sings your guys song).

“weirdest conversation” Izzie said, over hearing it. “always” Meredith added.

You guys stay in Derek's trailer for a bit and it wasn't a good experience for either one of you. He hates bears and you hate Snakes. “Alex! There's a fucking snake in the porch!”

“I'm not going out there! there's bears out there too, what do you want me to do about?”

You shrugged and annoyed with him and scared by the snake. “What? Are we just supposed to spend the rest of our lives in here?”

You stopped listing to the song House of Pain by Faster Pussycat around Alex because you can tell the words hit a little too hard for him and upset him.

Alex shrugged. “sounds good to me” he walked pasted you and towrds the bed. “wonder if Walker is on tv”

Since he's Evil Spawn his nickname for you is Angel.

He'd confide in you and open up to you about his past and family. He wanted to be a better man than his father was and he sure as hell wanted to treat you better than his father treated his mother.

The day his father showd up at hospital as a patient he kepted you far away from him. “that baaterd doesn't deserve to meet or know someone as amazing as you... Promise me you'll stay away from his hospital room”

He's a girl dog dad, plain and simple. He might only admit it to you though. You brought home a female Chiweenie puppy one day and he immediately fell in love with the pup. But they also have a love hate relationship. “that little bitch bit me” and then next hour their cuddling on the couch. “such a sweet little girl” he smiled scratching behind the puppy's ear.

You named her Baby after Jennifer Grey's character in Dirty Dancing

After the puppy calmed down and was more calmer, you guys got a license to bring her in for the Peds patients to see and cuddle while they were in the hospital.

Even though your an amazing cook to him, you guys get take-out alot due to your busy work schedule.

Sometimes you'll so tired to even eat something big and you'll end up sharing a large order of French fries.

Physical touch is his love language.

This man need physical contact a lot too. He's a big cuddler and just needs you in his arms, he's really just a big ol' teddy bear.

You joke about that, he can be such a cocky jerk and tough but he's really just a big teddy bear.

“I'm not a teddy bear” he said trying to not to smile. You shook your head and held him tighter. “your right... Your MY teddy bear”

He also loves forehead kisses, it's just such a soft and he loves doing gentle gesture like that to you. It just makes your relationship so much more intimate and real to him.

Alex refuses to sleep unless you have fallen asleep first, he just needs to know your okay before he can have a good night sleep. He really stated doing this after the hospital shooting.

He may be protective of you, but your definitely more protective. He finds is adorable and hot when you get all made and try to be his guard dog. “listen here Nurse syphilis...”

He calls you his angry Chihuahua just to mess with you.

He's not afraid to defend you either, he'd be damed if someone talked bad or down to you. He knows you and Christina don't get along and he's not afraid to put her in her place if she goes to far. “Back off Yang! I mean it”

He's a rough kisser, he's way taller than you so usually he hold your chin between his fingers and lift for head up to kiss you.

NSFW headcanons:

He has a tendency to grip the headboard when he's close to cumming.

He's a soft/mean Dom, it just depends on his mood. But no matter what he always makes sure your comfortable. He loves to take control in the bed but would never push you.

He loves missionary, keeping eye contact while he fucks you. He loves how you dig your nails into his back and wrap your legs around his waist to bring him impossibly closer.

Loves eating you out,your legs around his head. He loves your legs in general and loves leaving kisses on the insides of your thighs. He'd rather pleasure you for hours than receive.

He love getting head. I feel like he’d like having you on your knees. Plus, feeling your lips around him pushes him closer to cumming in your mouth.

Has a soft spot for sex in the shower, he loves holding you up against the wall, roughly while he drives his cock into you.

He has big chocking kink, he won't be too rough about but he loves wrapping his fingers around your neck and feeling your pulse when he's ramming into you.

He'll mark your thighs with his teeth and biting hard enough to leave a light bruise.

He doesn’t keep quiet. A good amount of teasing, dirty talk and the way he grunts...

Alex loves gripping your hips as you ride him, leaving his impressions on your thighs as you move, chasing your highs.

His favorite thing is probably you riding him. He loves gripping your hips, controlling your pace.

You may be in top, but he's in control. But that doesn't mean he loves the fact your using him to chase your high.

he loves grabbing you by the hips, literally squeezing his fingertips against your soft skin, holding you in the place or using them to help guide the pace.

One of his biggest kink is cumming inside you, seeing you filled up just makes him go crazy.

God, he loves anything to do with your breasts. He loves it when your sitting on his lap, grinding against his bulge while his face is buryed in your breasts, kissing and marking them up.

Honestly, you grinding yourself on him in someway and getting yourself off turns him on so much.

He loves using his fingers to get you to cum. “Look at you, whimpering for my fingers already”

This man is amazing when it comes to aftercare. He knows exactly what you need. After your both cleaned up, he'll pull you to his chest to cuddle.

#Alex Karev #alex karev x reader #Alex Karev imagines #Alex karev headcanons #Alex Karev smut #greys anatomy headcanons #Greys anatomy x reader

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