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whereianonymouslypostfics · 1 year

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Growing Pains Part 1

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~9.9k

Summary: Little Nat is almost 13 and school’s a bitch. Retired mob boss turned stay-at-home mom Wanda has to figure out how to deal with bullies at her daughter’s school.

A/N: Credit to @rianncreates for this fic idea. Enjoy 😘

Warnings: Fluff, teen angst, injury, reference to previous injury/trauma, bullies, and mentions medicinal drug use

"Mama, I’m going to be late!”

Natalya is running out of her room with only one shoe on as she hurries to finish getting ready for school. She has to stop for a second to pull on her other shoe, and she nearly gets pushed down the stairs by one of her dogs. Rogue is 14 years old and moving slowly these days, but he still tries to follow her everywhere she goes. This leads to her almost flying down the stairs as he bumps into her when she stops suddenly. She bites her lip to stop herself from cursing in surprise.

The last time she’d done it in front of her parents, they’d been horrified and she’d been forced to rat out her uncle for saying that particular curse word in front of her. She’d had to text her Uncle Pietro and apologize for the rant she knew he was about to face from her redheaded mom.

“I’m ready, milaya. I’m waiting for you.”

Nat sighs in defeat because of course her mom is ready on time. She is only ever late if she has to drive with her brother. She jumps down the last few stairs and lands with a loud thud that surprises Fletcher who’d been sleeping in the living room. She doesn’t have to turn to her mom to see the disapproving look, but it’s unfortunately still there after she’s tied her shoes and heads over toward the older Maximoff.

“You know I don’t like it when you do that, Natalya. Your mom’s a bad influence on you. “

Wanda watches as her daughter just smiles widely before seeing that she’s holding her lunch and her face lights up. She realizes what Nat’s forgotten only a second before she spins around and runs back upstairs.

“My backpack! I’ll be back!”

Wanda rolls her eyes as she watches her daughter run back upstairs to retrieve her bag. Rogue thinks about following her back up, but he decides against it and comes to stand next to her. She smiles down at him and scratches him behind the ears as she waits for her daughter to return.

Natalya is almost 13 and although she looks more like her, it’s obvious to anyone who meets her that her personality is far closer to yours than hers. It’s funny and a little confusing at times but Wanda wouldn’t want it any other way. Her daughter is always full of energy and she worked hard in school despite not liking it very much. Not that Wanda expected her to at this age. Middle school was rough and before she became involved with the mob, this was where most of her traumatic memories came from.

Like you when you were younger, Natalya could go a mile a minute and had a seemingly endless amount of energy to burn at the end of each day. She was an odd combination of overly focused when it came to school work, but a little spacy about everything else. She could study quickly and efficiently, but she sometimes struggled with everyday tasks like making sure everything she needed was in her bag for school. As well as remembering to grab her bag for school.

Given her daughter’s high energy and desire to always be moving, you had suggested that she try out for sports. Wanda had needed to be persuaded to agree because she was worried about Nat getting hurt. She wasn’t the most graceful kid, and you definitely weren’t taking responsibility for that. Sure, she tripped weekly on the dogs and sometimes missed a step on the stairs, but it wasn’t anything serious. Also, you were convinced that getting her into sports would improve her coordination.

So far, you’d been proven wrong.

“Do you have everything you need for practice?”

Wanda realizes she should have asked this earlier, but luckily Nat just nods as she returns with her backpack and reaches out to pet her dog before taking her lunch box. She leaves most of her things at the dug out because she forgets to bring them home, and that’s worked out so far. She smiles and grabs her mom’s arm to lead them to the car with a sigh.

Another thing that both you and Wanda love about your daughter is the fact that she’s not a typical almost-teenager. While Natalya’s friends and classmates are beginning to develop a begrudging tolerance toward their parents, she just seems to continue to treat them nicely. She always has been very affectionate and open with them, and you both sincerely hope that continues into her later teen years.

Wanda turns down the road toward her daughter’s school and she holds back her sigh at the sight of the long line of cars waiting to drop their kids off. It’s an everyday occurrence and if she weren’t so paranoid about a bunch of kids near her house, or Natalya walking down the mountain a bit to another neighborhood she’d let her daughter ride the bus. You’d told her it would be good for her. You joked that it helped build character when you had to sit with a bunch of people you may or may not like. The bus was where you’d had your first fight, but you’d only told Wanda that, not Natalya.

“Can I ask you something?”

Wanda’s brought back to the present by Natalya’s voice, and she turns to see her daughter glancing out the window with a frown. She briefly wonders if she missed something, but she doesn’t waste too much time thinking about it before she smiles.

“Of course.”

Natalya hesitates as she tries to talk herself into the question she’d originally wanted to ask her mom. She loved both of her moms a lot, and equally, but sometimes it was easier to talk to one over the other. Depending on the circumstance, would go to one parent or the other, and although she knew they both would find out eventually, she just felt more comfortable that way. She felt less pressure than she would if she tried to talk to both parents.

Natalya went to Wanda for potentially embarrassing questions like when girls in her grade started to talk about periods, or boys. Wanda found having these conversations with her daughter bittersweet yet rewarding in a way that she hadn’t expected. You were certainly willing to talk to Nat about these things too, but Wanda did a better job of it.

Nat usually went to you for animal-related questions or when she had difficulty getting something done. You both shared a painfully short attention span at times, and you’ve taught Nat plenty of ways to combat this over the years.

She honestly would have asked either of you this question, but you were out of town until tomorrow for a work thing and this had been weighing on Nat for a while.

“Were you or mom popular in school?”

This isn’t exactly what she’d wanted to ask, but she chickened out last minute. She knew that between her two moms, Wanda was the one who tended to cross the line into being overprotective. She never said anything outright, but Nat would see her get a look in her eye that scared her a little, and made you intervene, if you noticed it.

Wanda’s trying to figure out why her daughter would ask her this as she finally pulls into the school’s parking lot. She still has a ways until she’s close enough to drop Natalya off, but she decides that this might be a good thing for once. She senses that this conversation might be going somewhere important, so she answers truthfully with a shrug.

“Not really, no. We liked to keep to ourselves or our small group of friends.”

People were exhausting. Wanda didn’t say this part but both you and Wanda believed this at times. She’s sure Natalya does as well because she’s definitely an introvert like her mothers. She might actually enjoy getting out more than them, but she was just as tired when it was all over and she’d crash sometimes before she even made it to her bed.

Natalya thinks about this with a pout that she doesn’t realize is on her lips. She has a few good friends that she hangs out with sometimes, but she likes her alone time outside of school. She uses it to recharge with drawing or spending time with her parents or dogs. Fletcher doesn’t really like anyone but her redheaded mom.

“And that worked for you two? You never got…lonely?”

Bullied is what Nat was going to say, but just watching how her mom shot her a curious look made her panic. She didn’t want to tell her mom for the first time that she was being picked on at school while she was driving a car. She didn’t want to tell her at all, but things weren’t getting better, and she didn’t know what to do. You both had told her the importance of standing up for herself, but never resorting to violence. You’d stressed this part for some reason, but Natalya got the idea. She only defended herself when girls in her class threw insults at her, and she let them shove her into lockers as they walked by her without retaliation. She was getting sick of it though and she needed someone’s help to figure out what to do to make them go away.

Wanda pulls up to the drop off lane and frowns at the idea of this conversation ending. She feels like Natalya’s not saying everything on her mind, but unfortunately, she’s running out of time to figure it out. She slows the car before reaching out for her daughter. Natalya turns when she feels a hand on her shoulder, and she sees her mom smiling kindly at her.

“Not really no. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to be popular, but it honestly seemed exhausting. I was happy just being a bit of a loner. Your mom too.”

Natalya smiles at the fact that she knows this is true. Sometimes when they all spend time together in the living room, they watch tv or a movie together. Other times they’ll all be doing different things, and are just content to have someone nearby.

She smiles as her mom pulls up to the school, and she knows she has to get out now. She feels a little better knowing that her parents coped well in school despite being a loner like her. She can do that too. She just needs to figure out how to get her bullies off of her back.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you after practice!”

Wanda smiles as the brunette leans over to hug her just long enough for her to kiss her hair. She nearly flies out the door and only a couple of steps away from the car Wanda’s lowering her window to call after her.

“Natalya, you forgot your bag!”

You sigh heavily as you lay sprawled out on the bed in your hotel room with your dog curled into your side. You’re exhausted from all of the networking and chit-chat that this CE trip involved. You had met more people in the last two days than you have in maybe 5 years, and it’s making you want to curl up and sleep for the next 24 hours. You’re just grateful that you have Boone with you because otherwise you’d be tired, lonely and overwhelmed by the number of extroverts you’ve met.

You run your fingers through your dog’s fluffy coat, and you smile widely when he turns around to lick you. You look at his cute face that’s turned whiter in the past couple of years. He’s nearly 16 now and despite slowing down he’s still your trustworthy companion. He still follows you wherever you go, or at least he tries to, and you’d considered leaving him because he was mostly just going to sit around the hotel, but the day after you’d decided you found that he’d ripped up one of your shirts. You took that as a sign that he didn’t want to be left behind and you rebooked a room at a dog-friendly hotel that day.

“Are you having fun bud? Are you excited to go home tomorrow?”

Boone’s tail starts to thump against the bed and you laugh before sliding down toward him so you can kiss his furry head. You sigh as you lean against him gently before closing your eyes and trying to relax. You’ve had a good time, and you’ve learned a lot here, but you are very eager to go home. You miss your wife, daughter, and other fur children, and you’re excited that you’ll be coming home the night of a family dinner. You’ll get to see everyone and catch up on how they’re all doing.

You’re thinking of what food you’re going to be eating tomorrow when your phone rings from where you left it on your pillow. You spin around careful not to hit Boone as you grab it before turning back so you’re on your stomach again. You smile widely when you see who’s calling you.

“Hey, Wands, one second. I’m just walking my mistress out.”

Wanda rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh as she grabs a basket at the front of the grocery store. She’d needed to pick up a couple more things for dinner tomorrow, and after dropping off Natalya she’d wanted to talk to you. She hears shuffling on the other end of the line and despite calling bullshit on her wife’s statement she decides to check in on her.

“Don’t even, Y/n, but turn on your camera so I can see your ridiculous face.”

You laugh at this before turning on the camera and tilting your phone so you can fit both you and Boone into the shot. Wanda smiles at the sight of you and your dog, and she brushes her hair out of the way as she fixes her earpiece. You realize immediately that your wife is at the store and you have to hold back the urge to ask her to get you some chocolate.

“Hi there, beautiful. How are you?”

Wanda smiles at your cheesy greeting that despite knowing it’s sincere makes her cringe a little. The two of you have been married for almost 18 years, and there have been many ups and downs that led you to this point. When she was 18, she never would have thought that this would be her life. She would have assumed she’d be stuck with the mob until she died, but instead she’s married with a beautiful daughter and a big family that was finally on the right side of the law.

When she’d left her job almost 14 years ago, she’d wondered if she would ever be free from the stress and danger associated with it. She’d gambled a lot and quite literally made a deal with the devil to get not just her, but all of her friends out. She didn’t want them stuck there because not only would they still be in danger, but having any association with them would put her at risk and make her exit just a formality. She never would have guessed that Strucker would hold up his end of the deal, but she was grateful. He should be too honestly, he had gotten her entire criminal empire, and all it cost him was ensuring their protection.

Wanda’s eternally grateful for how things have turned out, and she’s looking forward to having everyone over tomorrow. Even her brother.

“I just need to pick up a few things for dinner tomorrow and thought I’d check in with you. How are things there?”

You sit up so you’re more comfortable before you look around the room with a shrug. You’re glad that tomorrow is just a brief closing event so you can make your flight mid-day and be home in time for dinner. Despite still being filthy rich, Wanda had given up some of the perks that came with her job. Such as the private jet she’d once flown you to Miami with. As far as you were concerned this was okay because you were still able to fly with Boone sitting at your feet on his own bed in first class for this trip. You would have never let him fly in cargo because not only is it too hot or cold down there, but the noise and the separation anxiety would have been too much for both of you.

“It’s been fun, but I’m sick of people, Wands. I want to come home and see you and Little Nat.”

You sigh dramatically as you flop back onto the pillow and look up at your wife who’s glancing between you and the items she’s looking for. You wonder what she’s grabbing, but as if she can read your thoughts, she flips the camera so you can see where she’s walking in the busy grocery store.

“We miss you too, detka, but tomorrow’s not too far away.”

You smile in agreement as you stand up and stretch while holding your phone above your head. You cringe slightly at the uncomfortable pull on your tense stomach, but you take a deep breath and shake your head to focus back on your wife.

“I’ll be back in time to help cook, and I’ll make my famous cheesecake.”

Wanda smiles at the idea of this and she reroutes toward the dairy aisle at your subtle reminder about your plans. She’d forgotten to get the ingredients for that and she knows that both you and Natalya would be upset if she forgot. It was your daughter’s favorite dessert and you tried to make it every so often and, on her birthday, so you both could eat too much of it and suffer from a sugar high.

“That sounds great. Steve and Bucky will bring the booze and Kit with them.”

Kit is the 7-year-old rescue dog that the duo had living at their house. You’d met him as soon as Bucky had brought him home and you fell in love. He was adorable albeit very nervous, but you were used to anxious dogs given your experience at work and he’d warmed up to you, Steve and Bucky quickly. He hadn’t been as quick to warm up to your dogs, and the trio had actually just growled at each other for several minutes before you called it and decided to try the meet-and-greet later. Your dogs were older, but they were still very protective of their family and their territory. They hadn’t liked a new dog coming onto their turf even if he was with a familiar face.

Over the past couple of years, Kit had warmed up to the idea of having older brothers, and your dogs had deemed the younger dog an acceptable addition to the family. He often came to visit during biweekly dinners with Yelena’s younger Akita, Fanny II.

“As long as they all get along and your brother knows he’s being locked in the basement if he gets too drunk.”

Pietro’s certainly calmed down in the past decade, but he still sometimes over indulged when the family was all together. You used to tolerate it better, but now that Natalya was old enough to pick up on certain habits and be influenced by her family’s behaviors, you and Wanda had warned him off from getting drunk in front of your daughter. They believed their daughter was smart enough to not follow in Pietro’s footsteps, but the second he suggested sharing alcohol or anything else with her, you were allowed to toss him in the basement.

Wanda’s finishing up grabbing the last ingredient you’ll need for cheesecake when someone accidentally bumps into her. The store is crowded and she’d been a little preoccupied so she doesn’t think much of it. She hears someone mutter an apology before she heads to the produce section.

“Believe it or not, I think he learned from his last trip down there. He’s getting too old for that behavior anyway. I doubt he can bounce back like he used to.”

You sit back down with a quiet groan before you think about the truth in Wanda’s statement. Once the group passed their mid-30s, their ability to drink like they did in their twenties quickly dissipated, even for Yelena and Nat who had been able to drink any of them under the table on any occasion. Pietro was the one who suffered from it the worst because he didn’t catch on very quickly, or rather he tried to resist by over indulging more regularly which ended in many nights of blacking out. Wanda had actually sat him down and talked to him about his behavior on their 40th birthday. She didn’t want him to get stuck in this bad habit when he was really just drinking for fun and something to do. He wasn’t an addict and she didn’t want him acting like one. Especially around Natalya. She wanted her brother to be a role model for her daughter, and she swore that if he got her into drinking before she was 25, she’d make him regret it.

Now that they were both in their mid-40s, they rarely drank more than a glass of wine, beer or half of a cocktail at night. Wanda drank even less because she only really drank socially or if she was stressed, but those days were mostly behind her. She was more of a stress eater or tv-show binger these days, and you still couldn’t hold your liquor. She’s also made you stop smoking for fun except on very rare occasions like your birthday or vacation. Now, you only did it for your chronic pain if your medication wasn’t enough to control a flare up.

“Whatever I say to that can be taken the wrong way, so I’m going to just say that Pietro better behave.”

Wanda laughs at your response before she turns the camera back around so you can see her for what she says next. She’d put more thought into it, and she is a little worried about how Natalya is doing at school. She has near perfect grades and all of her teachers love her, but her questions this morning concerned her a bit. She’d always wanted her daughter to be happy and do well in school. She didn’t need straight A’s, she just wanted her to try her hardest, and she saw everyday how much time she spent working. Even if she didn’t do well on something, Wanda wouldn’t get mad.

She wonders if maybe she should have pushed for Natalya to hang out with her friends more when she was younger. She was always worried about kids coming over to the house because with kids came their parents, and when they saw how large and isolated their house was it usually led to questions she didn’t want to answer. It was difficult to believe that a veterinarian’s salary alone could pay for the house and the large property that it sat on.

For this reason, most play dates happened at other friends’ houses, and those were pretty few and far between. She’s asked Natalya about it sometimes and she’d given her an answer that she struggled to come to terms with.

“So Natalya asked me something on the way to school today that I wanted to run by you."

Immediately, you catch onto the change in your wife’s tone, and you’re sitting up straighter as you give her your full attention.

“What did she ask?”

Wanda summarizes the conversation she had not too long ago with Natalya as she finishes shopping. She makes it to the check-out counter before she finishes, and she greets the cashier while waiting for your response. She knows that you are a little worried about how self-isolating Natalya is, but given that your daughter doesn’t seem to mind and is still able to get along well with the friends she does have, you hadn’t been overly concerned. Hearing that she might be hinting at being lonely makes you frown and consider your options.

You know Wanda doesn’t like people over at the house, and you’re honestly a little anxious about it as well. You just can’t help but think about the many, many guns that are still locked up in the basement and have been for over a decade. You and Wanda had talked about moving them at some point, but you always got side-tracked or never really came to a decision about it. You knew that the rest of your family still had guns in their houses, and you wouldn’t be surprised to know that they had them stashed around the house like you did before Natalya came along. Maybe you could give them all to your brother-in-law.

Other than the many weapons that were safely locked away, the house was huge and very secure. In the past, you’d used the two guard dogs you have at home as excuses to not have kids over, but really you just feared that someone would be too curious and look into the house and as a result find out about Wanda’s past.

She’s been a law-abiding citizen for nearly 15 years, and she’d cut ties with the mob completely. You’d only learned about what really happened when Natalya was 3, and the fact that Wanda had just handed it over to someone else was baffling to you. Her life’s work and she traded it all away for a comparatively boring domestic life. At the time you’d wondered if your wife ever regretted it, but so far she hadn’t given you any indication that she did. She loved being there for Natalya, and she loved not having to stress about her house getting shot up. No one had approached her or even mentioned her previous life for years, and Wanda liked it that way. She liked to focus on the present and appreciate the life she had always dreamt of having.

Wanda’s back at the car and you still haven’t responded. She looks at her phone to make sure she’s still on with you before she frowns slightly at the sight of the ceiling. You’d disappeared and Wanda doesn’t hear anything other than Boone licking his paws as she starts her car.

“Y/n, you still there?”

You take a deep breath before you’re nodding despite the fact that your wife can’t see you. Sitting up carefully you cringe before you grab the phone again to see that Wanda’s in her car. You open your mouth to apologize, but your wife knows all too well what’s going on.

“Yeah, sorry. I think maybe we start simple. Ask if she wants to have some friends over or to go out next weekend. Go from there.”

Wanda nods in agreement but her attention’s shifted to you and she frowns as she shoots you a questioning look.

“Is it bothering you again?”

You sigh in defeat, but you can’t help but smile at the fact that you still seem to think that you can hide something from your wife after all of these years. You’d think that your many failed attempts would be enough to get you to stop trying. You nod before claiming that it’s fine and it’s no worse than usual which luckily is true.

“Just the usual amount. I’m about due for my meds again is all.”

Just shy of 16 years ago, you’d been injured in a man’s poorly executed scheme to steal your wife. Despite healing and being able to take comfort in the fact that those involved were dead, you still weren’t free from the consequences of that day. A couple of years after healing completely, you’d started to experience a tingling sensation around the scar and throughout your abdomen where you’d been shot. It was only every month or so that it would almost tickle oddly for a few minutes before ceasing. Eventually it became more of a pins and needles type feeling that came more frequently and persisted for longer periods of time. It didn’t become debilitating until a few years ago. One day you’d been playing with Natalya and the dogs in the backyard, and an electric shock-like sensation shot through your side and sent you to your knees.

Nat had been so worried she’d started crying, and that alerted your wife and her brother who had been visiting at the time that something was off. Wanda had taken you to the hospital immediately where you’d just been told that this is something that can happen down the road. It had been news to you because dogs and cats couldn’t complain about previous trauma affecting them years down the line. You’d been put on a pain medication and an antidepressant. You hadn’t liked the idea of being on drugs like this, but you also didn’t want to experience this type of pain again, or scare your family.

Now that you’re on your medications regularly, you only had a few episodes of pain that made you reach for medical marijuana. You did your best to stay healthy and exercise regularly so you can improve your chances of decreasing these episodes. They mostly happened at night, right after you go to sleep or right before waking up, and you’ve learned that you just have to get up and smoke. You won’t be able to go back to sleep without it, and you hate to wake up your wife with your tossing and turning.

“Take your meds, detka, and then have fun at the rest of this conference because I’m not letting you go to another any time soon.”

You’re grateful for the distraction from your tingly skin at Wanda’s joke. At least you think it’s a joke. Since you’d become the managing vet at your practice you’ve been working longer hours. You split your time so you’re no longer working just with clients and seeing appointments. About 25% of your time is working on management stuff, and as much as you don’t like it, you’re making a lot more money. Not that you need any.

Wanda may have left her old job behind, but most of the money she’d made, she’d kept and moved it around enough so it wouldn’t raise suspicions at any bank. You didn’t understand it, but since the rest of your friends had done the same, you’d just let them handle it. You know you have more money than you’ll need, and Natalya should be able to have everything she needs and then some. You don’t want her to grow up spoiled, but you also don’t want her to feel like she can’t ask for something.

“Will do, Wands. I promise to spend all weekend with you and Nat. I’ve missed you both.”

Wanda is driving home when you say this, but she steals a glance at you as she comes to a stop at a light. She’s missed you too and as much as she hopes you had fun and learned a lot on your trip, she hates it when you leave. She’s spent every night with you for years, and having to go to an empty bed at the end of the day was no fun. Sometimes she lets Rogue sleep on your side on a large blanket just so she doesn’t feel so alone. She’ll be glad to have you back.

“We’ve missed you too. I’m going to let you go rest before lunch is over, and I’ll let you know what Nat says tonight, okay?”

It’s 12:40 here and you realize you only have half an hour before you have to go back downstairs. For now, you stand up so you can find your meds before you try to sleep for the rest of lunch. Boone will have to go out before you leave, but you’ll worry about that later. You smile at your wife before offering her a little wave.

“Sounds good. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you too. And you Boone!”

When Wanda arrives home a little later, she puts her purse and the groceries down on the counter with a sigh before she wanders up to the bedroom. She greets Rogue and her old, lazy cat along the way before she heads into the bathroom with a sigh. She walks over to the small safe that was hidden in the vanity and opens it quickly. Both you and Wanda agreed that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep a gun nearby just in case. You hadn’t experienced any issues and hadn’t needed it at all, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Since the safe was already nearby, you decided to put your marijuana from the medical dispensary in here. You didn’t want it just sitting out for anyone to find, and you kept it in the safe for whenever you needed it.

Wanda frowns slightly when she picks up the jar and sees that it’s not as full as when she last checked. She makes a note to call in a refill soon as she puts the jar back and shuts the safe. She has a few things she needs to get done today, including cleaning all of the dog hair that’s managed to evade the Roomba. She stops short of leaving the bedroom when she sees one of the pictures that sits on the dresser.

It's one she hides behind the other two because she was embarrassed by it when her brother had first taken it. They had all been at the beach when Natalya was 5-years-old, and you and Wanda had spent the day chasing after your overenthusiastic and hyperactive daughter. She’d wanted to do everything at once and she was not willing to slow down at all. You’d joked about putting her on a leash, but after Little Nat had tuckered out mid-swim you and Wanda had collapsed too. You’d fallen asleep under the tent with your daughter between you and Wanda and you woke up an hour later to the sound of someone calling your name. You’d seen Pietro with his phone and after stealing it and finding the cute pictures, you’d sent one of them to yourself so you could frame it. You had given it to Wanda for Mother’s Day and despite hating how she looked in it, she loved seeing how peacefully you and Natalya slept.

Wanda frowns as she leaves the room and thinks back to Natalya’s questions this morning. She wasn’t sure if she was just reading too deeply into things because she’s been guilty of that before, but she hopes that her daughter knows she can come to her if she needs help.

Natalya was leaving her least favorite class when her phone vibrated from her jacket pocket. She figures she knows who it is, and she decides to wait until she washes her hands and heats up her lunch to text back.

She only has a single class with her friends, but most days she has lunch with them in their science class, the library or outside if it wasn’t too hot. Natalya leans against the counter as her food spins in the microwave and reads the text from her friend Taylor. Usually she hates group texts, but her friends know this and don’t expect her to text back unless it’s an emergency. She has her read setting on and she puts her phone back in her pocket without responding.

We’re outside on the hill. Blame Luke.

Luke was the only guy in her friend group, and she’d actually met him first a couple of years ago in science class. They’d been paired for a project and despite hating the assignment, they’d gotten along well and Luke had introduced her to his other friends, Taylor and Alyssa. Nat had been and still was pretty sure that he liked them both, but she never felt comfortable asking, and it didn’t really matter in the end. She didn’t feel like a third or fourth wheel with them, and they always made her feel included when they sensed her spacing out. She hadn’t hung out with them outside of school for a while and she was considering asking them to do something soon as she walks through the cafeteria toward the doors that lead to the hill.

“Whoops.”

Nat hears the sarcastic voice before someone bumps into her and makes her food splash out of the Tupperware and onto her hand. She hisses in pain and nearly drops it as she tries to set it down quickly and wipe off her hand. She turns to look over her shoulder at the group of girls laughing at her as they continue on as if nothing happened. Nat scowls at them before she covers her food ad runs to the bathroom to wash off her spilled lunch.

She’s not sure how she’d managed to catch the attention of this particular group of mean girls, but it had started a few months ago. Stacy was the ringleader and honestly the dumbest person Natalya had ever met. She attempted to overcompensate for her stupidity by wearing too much makeup and putting other girls down whenever possible. Her two closest friends Jocelyn and Lisa had jumped on the bandwagon with her, but they luckily didn’t harass her if they were alone. They mostly just kept up appearances around Stacy, and Nat almost felt bad for them.

Natalya had thought about complaining to someone, but the blonde’s mother was the president of the PTA and her dad was probably one of the richest people in town. He was the CEO of some hot shot company that Stacy knew nothing about, but she didn’t care. Having rich parents and being as dense as a brick didn’t give her permission to be a jerk.

“Hey! There you are.”

“You know, I wonder why your moms got you a phone just to have you neglect it.”

Natalya rolls her eyes as she drops her bag onto the grass next to her friends. She sighs as she carefully sits down and crosses her legs with a small smile. She looks to the trio that are already laid out comfortably and eating and she decides to address Luke’s comment first.

“I don’t neglect it. I read Taylor’s text, didn’t I?”

In all honesty, Natalya was surprised that her parents had gotten her a phone. She was notorious for losing things and after leaving her first one outside and not finding it again until it had rained two days later, her parents had bought her a waterproof case for it. She mostly texted her family, like her aunts or uncles, and these three, but her parents insisted she keep it on her at all times when she wasn’t home. They wanted to be able to reach her wherever she was, and there may or may not be a tracker in it because old habits die hard.

Taylor’s the first one to sit up as the smell of Natalya’s lunch reaches her. She recognizes it immediately and she’s once again jealous of how the brunette gets a home-cooked meal more often than not. The one time she’d stayed at Nat’s house for a sleepover, her redheaded mom had cooked for them, and it was honestly the best meal she’d ever had.

“Why do you always have such good lunches! You’re so lucky.”

The other brunette creeps toward Nat to potentially get a bite when she notices something that steals her attention.

“Wait, what happened? Did you burn your hand?”

The back of Natalya’s right hand is red and looks painful. Nat shrugs her off but lets her grab it to inspect it more closely. Alyssa slides away from where she’d been sitting next to Luke to get a look and she cringes at the sight. The blonde wants to follow in her mom’s footsteps and become a doctor, so Natalya indulges her and lets her friend fuss over her for a minute.

“Ow, did you trip or something?”

It’s a fair question because they are well aware that she’s a klutz, but this time she just shakes her head before muttering something under her breath. She looks around to make sure the trio aren’t nearby before she explains what happened. Luke and Alyssa frown while Taylor looks like she wants to fight someone. Between the four of them, Taylor is the least afraid of confrontation, and she’d definitely been to detention more times than anyone else in their group. She would go find the trio and shove all of their heads in a toilet, but Nat didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.

“My fan club accidentally spilled it on me as they fought over my autograph.”

Taylor looks around next and she scowls as she shakes her head in annoyance. Her friend was a little too passive aggressive for her own good, and things were only getting worse with the trio. She shouldn’t have to deal with this every day.

“They’re jerks, Nat, you should tell them off.”

Nat had tried to once, but it just ended up in her getting shoved to the ground by all three of them. She’d just watched them laugh as she brushed the dirt off of her clothes and tried to convince herself that they’d get bored. She didn’t want to get in trouble by resorting to violence, but sometimes she daydreamed about punching their sneers right off their faces.

“I don’t want to get in trouble. Also, my mom will probably lose her shit if she finds out.”

None of them needed clarification because despite having only met Nat’s parents a few times, it was obvious to them which mom was more of a worrywart. While you were silently concerned and seemed more chill on the surface, Wanda wasn’t as good at hiding her anxieties and often verbalized her concerns. It was a no brainer that she’d be furious if she found out that her daughter was getting bullied.

“She would, but this can’t keep going on.”

“Maybe we should beat them up after practice today.”

Nat shakes her head quickly before she decides to change the subject because she’s getting a little self-conscious. She’ll deal with Stacy and her minions at some point, but for now she’s going to keep ignoring them.

“No, no. Let’s not. I was going to ask if you wanted to come over soon though? We could have another sleepover?”

Natalya realized that her distraction had worked as soon as her friends start to plan what they’ll do when they come over. They loved walking around the woods with the dogs and hanging out in the den eating too much junk food. The last time she’d had them over, they’d had a movie marathon of kind of scary movies that her parents had approved. They had still freaked her out a little bit, but she hadn’t told them that. She wanted her mom to let her watch her favorite horror movie when she turned 13, but her redheaded mom still wasn’t on board.

“We can have another mac and cheese fest. Your aunt seemed to like that.”

The last time that they’d come over, you and Wanda had been busy so Yelena had come over to supervise. Despite their daughter being mature for her age, they knew she needed to be watched closely. Teens could too easily get in trouble if not held accountable, and they wouldn’t be good parents if no one was around to supervise them. When you two had come home to find the kitchen was a mess with 10 empty boxes of mac and cheese on the counters, you realized that maybe Yelena needed supervision as well.

“Or we could cook with your mom again.”

Nat can’t help but laugh at this as she rolls her eyes at the fact that she’s fairly certain her friend has a crush on her mom. It’s only a little horrifying, but she tries not to dwell on it most times. This is not one of those times though and she can’t help but find her friend’s blush amusing.

“I think you like more than just my mom’s cooking, Taylor.”

The brunette in question just coughs awkwardly before she just wordlessly grabs her fork so she can take a bite of Nat’s lunch. She decides that she’ll ask her moms about spending the night at Nat’s. They would probably say yes because it would give them a night with one less kid at home. Her brother was usually at a friend’s house and her sister liked to stay holed up in her room on the weekends.

“No comment.”

Wanda sighs heavily as she gets off the exercise bike that she’s been spacing out on for the past 40 minutes. She steps over Rogue carefully before she checks the time to make sure she’s still on schedule. She doesn’t have to pick up Natalya until 6:30 and dinner is ready to be put in the oven as soon as they get home. She decides to spend the next couple of hours finishing up her workout before relaxing outside for a while. She had a book she wanted to finish reading, but when she hears her phone beep nearby her this thought leaves her mind.

Practice cancelled. Coach is sick. Gonna study with w/ T &A

Wanda frowns before she starts to type out a response. She wouldn’t mind getting to skip the rest of her workout, but if Nat wants to spend time with her friends, she’s not going to protest.

Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?

Natalya and her friends are already settled in the library when her mom texts her back. They had been on their way to practice when they’d gotten a text from their coach to cancel practice for the day. Apparently, she’d had to go home for the day because she’d gotten food poisoning from whatever takeout she ate for lunch. Natalya is a little bummed because she’d been hoping to run around and burn some of the extra energy she had. Instead she’s going to work on her math homework so she doesn’t have to do it later tonight. She loved having nothing to do but relax when she went home. Relax and eat.

Taylor and Alyssa were also on the softball team and didn’t have a ride until 6:30 either, so they’d all decided to hang out and study. The library was open for the kids who stayed after school until at least 6, and then afterwards people typically went to the hill to wait for their parents to pick them up.

“I don’t get the second question. Do you?”

Nat hears her phone vibrate when Alyssa asks this and she takes a few seconds to tell her mom that she’s fine waiting here before answering. They get most of their homework done because Luke’s not with them to be a distraction. He barely did his homework on time, and he was the type who could only focus on work if he was alone in his room with music blaring. He got too tempted to talk or people watch if he was anywhere else.

“The library’s about to close. Do you want to keep studying outside?”

Instead of studying, they end up chatting until their parents arrive to pick them up. They’d walked to the softball field where they were usually picked up and Nat stretched out of the sidewalk as she sighed heavily. She turns to look at her friends that just smile before Taylor reaches out to grab the phone that’s fallen from Nat’s pocket.

“Let us know what your moms say about next weekend, okay?”

Natalya nods as she sits up at the sound of a car pulling up. It’s Taylor’s dentist mom and she and Alyssa both stand up to head out. As always though, Alyssa turns and speaks up for the trio as the passenger side window rolls down.

“Do you want us to wait with you until your mom gets here?”

Nat shakes her head but she stands up to hug her friends before going to greet Taylor’s mom. She smiles at the blonde before opening the back door so her friends can get in.

“Hi Doc, how are you?”

She’s always liked the blonde despite not enjoying her visits to the dentist. She was funny in a dry sort of way that reminded her of her moms, and she was laid back like her aunts. Nat always felt like she was someone she could go to if she had a problem but couldn’t tell any of her family.

“Hi Nat, good to see you! Are you sure you don’t want us to wait with you?”

Wanda’s pulling into the parking lot where she sees Natalya standing next to an unfamiliar car. She’s smiling as she chats with them and Wanda has to stop herself from freaking out. She knows her daughter’s smart and that she knows better than to talk to strangers, so she assumes this is one of her friend’s parents. This is confirmed when she drives by them and sees three familiar faces inside.

“Hi Mama! See I said she would be here any minute.”

Wanda gets out of her car and smiles as her daughter runs up to her and wraps her arms around her waist in a hug. She moves a little so she can wave at the woman she recognizes as one of Taylor’s moms. She shoots her a polite smile before they’re on their way home for the weekend.

“Hi Kayley, thanks for watching this one for me.”

After bidding them goodbye, Wanda can hear Kayley asking her daughter something that makes her laugh. She leads Natalya to her car, making sure that there’s nothing left on the sidewalk as she opens the door for her.

“Why don’t you hug me like that, Taylor?”

“Mom!”

Natalya’s stomach growls as she gets into the car, and it’s so loud that her mom can hear it as she’s opening her door again. Wanda’s amazed by how much her daughter can put away and still be so small. She’s a lot like you, and you joke about her inheriting your hollow leg now that you’re older and can’t eat nearly as much without it showing. Natalya is young and energetic, and she’d eat 5 meals a day if she had the time. Instead, she eats breakfast and lunch and then comes home so hungry she eats two or three helping at dinner. Wanda’s already getting buckled and starting the car again to get them home when she hears confirmation that her daughter’s hungry.

“Let’s get home so we can start dinner, shall we?”

Natalya smiles before practically bouncing in her seat at the idea of getting to eat. She’d had most of her lunch, but some had spilled and she hadn’t gotten her usual snacks at practice, so she was famished. She’s already brainstorming possible dishes her mom’s made when the older Maximoff speaks up with a curious look.

“Did you finish your lunch?”

Wanda asks this because 99% of the time the answer is yes. Very occasionally Natalya will be busy during lunch and be too distracted to eat. She’d come home once or twice with most of her lunch still packed away and Wanda would have to remind her about the importance of eating throughout the day. You’d always add to this by telling her that food was really the only way you ever got through a school day.

Natalya tells her about how she’d eaten all of her food as well as some of her friends’. She owed them some on Monday, but for now she was more concerned about dinner. She was about to ask what her mom had made when she hears a gasp that makes her frown in confusion.

“What happened to your hand??”

Natalya curses herself for not covering up her burn or even bothering to go to the nurse for that matter. She realizes her mom will be upset with her, and that she won’t get any dinner until she’s treated and wrapped her hand. It stung a little and hurt to touch, but she’d forgotten about it during her afternoon classes and then the nurse had already gone home. She decides to tell the truth because she’d learned very early on that she took after you when it came to her ability to lie.

She wrings her hands nervously before she covers up her burn with a frown.

“I spilled my lunch on it and forgot to go to the nurse.”

Wanda frowns in response because damnit sometimes her daughter is too much like her. She never used to take care of herself and her friends or brother had to convince her to go to medical to get checked out after any sort of injury. It wasn’t until you came along that she started to do a little better because well you’d threatened her with a bad time, or took care of her yourself which was both unpleasant and slightly humiliating.

When Wanda sighs Nat has to hold back her urge to shrink down in her seat in shame. She hates to upset her parents, and she knows that that they don’t like it when she doesn’t take care of herself. Like that one time she sprained her ankle during a game, but didn’t tell anyone until she was having difficulty running. She’d been lucky enough to have both parents present for the game, and they’d both chastised her before having Alyssa’s mom take a look at her.

“You need to take better care of yourself, milaya. I’ll look at it when we get home, okay?”

Nat just nods before she stares out the window for the next few minutes. She feels chastised and that familiar pressure in her chest makes her want to fix it immediately. Nat looks back to her mom when she speaks up a few minutes away from home.

“How was the rest of your day?”

Natalya’s first thought goes to Stacy at lunch and she frowns before shrugging as she starts to play with the hem of her shirt. She rambles nervously about the rest of her day and how it was fairly uneventful. She finished all of her homework and hopefully her coach’s food poisoning would be over by Monday.

Wanda smiles as they arrive home to see that Rogue is sitting in the driveway waiting for them. She’d been nervous about letting the dogs outside while they weren’t home, but you’d set up an invisible barrier and Rogue was the only one who really left the decks upstairs. He mostly just lingered around the house or very occasionally walked to Nat and Yelena’s down the road. He was only let out during the day and you’d put tracking collars on them so they wouldn’t get lost.

Seeing him stand up and wag his tail excitedly as she opened the garage made her feel even more love for her precious dog. Natalya waited impatiently for her to pull into the garage and park before she jumped out of the car and greeted her dog.

“Hi Rogue. How was your day bud?”

The shepherd pants happily as his ears and neck are scratched. He shakes himself out sending hair flying and Nat cringes slightly at how it’s now covering her hand, specifically her burn. She tries to shake out her hand but she’s unsuccessful and unfortunately her mom doesn’t miss it. She grabs her daughter’s backpack before calling her to come inside.

“Natalya, I’ll get dinner started then we’ll look at your hand.”

About 10 minutes later, Natalya’s sitting at the dining room table with her mom and an assortment of first aid supplies. Wanda had given the brunette a Tylenol before setting up everything she needed to clean and dress her wound. Wanda’s frowning as she takes her daughter’s hand and tilts it slightly to get a better look of the burn.

“This looks like it hurts. Hopefully covering it will help it heal faster.”

Wanda works in silence and Nat tries to distract herself from the stinging as her hand is cleaned meticulously before it’s slathered in ointment. Eventually Nat starts to get bothered by it so she speaks up to keep her mind off of it.

“I know, Mom will be back tomorrow, so it doesn’t have to be this weekend, but would it be okay to have my friends over soon for a sleepover?”

Wanda smiles immediately at the idea of this and she secretly wonders how Natalya just happened to ask this today after the conversation she’d had with you earlier. Either way, she’d be glad to host Natalya’s friends, they were both very polite and treated her daughter well. She couldn’t really ask for more than that.

“Of course. We’d be happy to have Taylor and Alyssa over.”

This makes Nat frown slightly as she realizes she needed to be more specific. The last time she’d had a sleepover they’d invited Luke as well. Her parents hadn’t known about it until he arrived and Yelena had called to tell them. Wanda had been freaked out and you’d wondered if Nat had been intentionally vague when mentioning her friends. This had led to a slightly uncomfortable conversation about the nature of Natalya’s relationships with all of her friends, and she’d certainly learned something new. When asked if Nat liked Luke, she’d simply shaken her head and told her that she was the only one without feelings.

“I think he likes Taylor or Alyssa. Or both. I think they like him too. It’s kind of confusing”

Wanda certainly was a little confused by this and she’d paid extra close attention to how they all acted together when they were at her house. She couldn’t tell from watching them because they all got along so well and no one really was extra clingy in a way that would suggest deeper feelings.

Still, Wanda doesn’t mind having Luke over, but until she’s told otherwise, she’s going to still insist that he sleeps in a different room.

“Luke too?”

Wanda nods as she starts to wrap Natalya’s hand first with gauze and then with the compressive wrap.

“Yes, but the same rules apply.”

Natalya just nods at this because last time Luke had slept in one of the guest rooms with Boone sitting at the door. The dogs didn’t mind visitors and since meeting the trio they even come up to greet them like they would for anyone else they knew. Luke liked the dogs the best, but Wanda remembers seeing both girls cuddling with a shepherd on the couch during one of their movie marathons.

“Okay, Mama. Thank you.”

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #pietro maximoff #yelena belova #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #bucky barnes #natalya maximoff #growing pains au

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vulpini-mage · 1 year

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tell me about your HON rewrite

Uhhh, this is so much longer that i was expecting it to be and not cohesive.

some pretext about what happens before Zoey shows up. Nerefet is the big bad of the series. rather than being this major powerhouse that everyone is in awe of, she's this overzealous social climber that was banished from high vampire society and is slowly building up power to take everyone down and take what she considers her true place, the ruler of all vampires.

Aphrodite was her most recent pet project after the last one died on her.

Aphrodite was a major vampire nerd before being turned into, a menace in every vampire forum, studying everything publicly known about vampire culture, you get the picture. but it worked out.; in vampire society, she has been making a name for herself.

The important thing here is that Nererfet only cares about being the most powerful and at the start of the rewrite that's vampires. once she discovers something better, she will sell out the entire vampire race to get something greater. Aphrodite actually cares a lot about vampires and vampire society. and once she figures out nerefet isn't as devoted she wants to annihilate her for that

zoey is the perfect replacement.

zoey is fucking dumbass; she's sorta a heather duke/Starscream; always been kept mostly in check by a queen bee (her mom, her older sister, and her friend Kayla) is constantly trying to be the head bitch but the second she gets a bit of power, she can't handle it. so in this zoey's not so much mary sue, she is just not considered a threat compared to other characters so she gets to glide by while in house of night. she will not let go of any sort of power for love or money and will take everyone down with her.

so we have; gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss: vampire edition, and these three are the most powerful spirit users in centuries.

everyone else in vampire society: why tf are we stuck with them?

other than these three let's talk about zoey's friends.

stevie rae is the most reluctant about becoming vampire; of all the nerd herd she is the most put together before being turned; meaning she'll be the one going through it the most. she's desperately holding on to her humanity.

the twins, their gimmick was paper thin, made no sense, and fucking stupid, so now they're actual twins with Erin being albino. Erin is not part of the herd; she's part of Aphrodite's crew here. she's been alienated most of her life from her albinism, kids are cruel and she's always got called a vampire; it got worse in high school. so when the opportunity to be a creature of the night came up she jumped on it.

Shaunee's been told to look out for her sister for as long as she can remember and being her sister's keeper has colored a lot her personality. the second most reluctant to become a vampire; at the start, she and her sister aren't talking. no one knows that they're twins, just that they got to the school at the same time.

Damien......I don't know. his personality was basically gay™ and the only one who studied for the SATs. here's the tentative plan for Damien; since this takes place during '07 he would have gotten bitten to escape his homophobic parents and maybe he got the idea to be bitten by an online friend/boyfriend.

I'm struggling to figure out how to remove zoey's Cherokee background/ magic; mostly it doesn't make sense, I believe it used to just add a mystical element into the series and I do not feel comfortable touching that.

a little expansion on my part: in the original, there were humans, vampyres, red vampyres, and oc gods, and gods.

in this: vampires, ghouls, damphirs, vampire hunters, and humans, maybe some others.

Stevie Rae still dies in book 2. Book 3, no wait. lemme explain the timeline.

the series og timeline fucking stupid, semi takes place in real-time of the 7 years (2007-2014) that the first books were being published then another 6 books from the end of the original books to the start of the spin-off.

but by the time series is over everyone is about 17. Zoey was 17 for 9 years. I know I really should give a damn about the timeline but that does mean that every single thing that happens in the course of the series happens in a little over a year. and that does bother me.

In this version, book one takes place over the course of 3 months from 10/31 to 12/24, Zoey's birthday

book two is from March to June. etc.

Zoey in og was 16➡17, so she was a sophomore. in this, she's 15➡16, and is the youngest of the group, so her awful self entitled attitude makes more sense.

aphrodite and Erik are 17 so they will be full vampires soon.

oh like I said, Stevie rae still dies but her spirit is still around. Zoey gets attacked by her ghoul self and accidentally fuses stevie rae's spirit and body together and makes her into a damphir. stevie are runs away in the chaos and later we find out not only can she walk in the sun but she has spirit powers in addition to her earth powers and has been turning ghouls into damphirs. they're the same group as the red vampyres. this includes Kramisha, nerefet's former pet project.

she still has the gift of prophecy but not bad poetry. Aphrodite still has her visions. kramisha's gift is limited in information but focused on a target while Aphrodite's vision is overloaded with information but happens randomly.

There's more but this has been sitting in my drafts for months and maybe I'll get more ideas to do something with this

#shay attempts to write a thing #house of night

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gothwives · 1 year

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closed: @musingmixtape who: olive hayes, she/her, 23, pageant queen/socialite

all their hushed giggling died down when the subject of their petty gossip rounded the corner and passed by where they stood huddled in the banquet hall, the leader of olive's circle of friends shushing them just in time for him to approach with a tray of champagne. "is it true, what they say?" the brunette piped up, eying him conspiratorially as she ignored the few snickers and sideways glances from the rest of the friend group. olive tried to subtly nudge her friend's ankle with the toe of her heel, silently urging her to knock it off before she went any farther. "your cock... is it really split in two like a snake's tongue?" that set the rest of the girls off, with nearly the whole group dissolving into a fit of giggles while olive silently cursed her friend's big mouth. "what the fuck is wrong with you?" her hushed scolding followed the man's exit, though not before he made a few snarky quips of his own. "he's, like, genuinely insane! i swear to god, i thought he was gonna paint a pentagram with blood in our pool house last summer..." "oh please, he's harmless." another of the girls was silenced as their leader commanded their attention yet again, attention focused on olive. "you don't have a crush on him, do you?" "no!" "'cause you can totally tell us..." her faux earnest display fell flat, with the pageant girl seeing straight through to the underlying passive aggression. "i don't like him. he scares me..." by now the whole group had their eyes on olive, studying her as if they'd been let in on a secret even she herself wasn't privy to. "then you won't mind using him for a little entertainment, would you?" torn between not wanting to poke the bear and not wanting to seem like she had a soft spot for him, olive pursed her lips. "what do you mean?" clearly a scheme was brewing in her friend's twisted little head, as she had that signature smirk on her face she wore whenever she was developing a bad idea. "how about... you get him to take you to the private pool, get him naked, and take a pic?" again, her friends began cackling in unison, and olive's face contorted in disgust. "ew, missy! i don't wanna see his dick!" ever the unbothered ringleader, missy simply shrugged. "if you're too scared, we could just get courtney to do it..." "no." anyone but courtney... if coming in second to her at the teen miss new york pageant back in high school wasn't enough, she just had to take everything olive had for herself. friends, boyfriends, jobs... olive wasn't about to let her take this, too. "fine. i'll do it... but you're buying my drinks next time we go out. and my uber!" the eager squeals and cheers of her friends fell on deaf ears as she braced herself to approach the intimidating outsider, a deep breath inhaled, held, and then released. "hey..." tone held a note of uncertainty as she tapped him on the shoulder, trying not to show her apprehension on her face. "sorry about them. they're so..." an awkward chuckle slipped out involuntarily, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "yeah, they're bitches. but i'm sure you already know that..." what exactly was she supposed to talk to him about? did they expect her to come right out and propose skinny dipping in the forbidden pool, just like that? "you're probably sick of all these rich people parties, huh? i'd be bored out of my mind without the constant stream of champagne. even then, i'm still kinda bored..."

#{ olive hayes — starter }#musingmixtape #i made it way too long on accident im sorry DJSGFDKG

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sagaonline · 10 months

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my old friend and now

The other day, an old friend of mine sent me a message. I haven’t spoken to her in three years, so seeing her name pop up not only in my messages but also in my Snapchat notifications was a shock. she said that she missed me, and that she really didn’t want to drift apart after we finished high school, but things sometimes take turns that we don’t want or expect.

I didn’t reply for a while. I worked a whole shift before I had the courage to say anything. Why was she messaging me now, after three years? I suspected it was because I’ve recently graduated from university, and I posted my excitement for the next chapter of my life on social media. Was that some sort of unknown invitation for members of my past to come back to it?

When I did reply, I said I missed her too. Honestly, I don’t know if I did. It’s always been hard for me to regulate emotions, the teetering line of feeling too much and not enough. Normally, when I fall out with friends, I push any thought of them as far away as I can, too desperate to not feel fear and upset at the fact that they aren’t in my life anymore. It’s the same with her, I hadn’t really thought about her since we last spoke. But the moment I wrote those words, they were real. That ache that comes with missing someone flooded my chest, that feeling of loss because I’ve missed such a great deal of our lives.

I don’t know what she’s like these days, and we used to be best friends in high school. That scares me.

We had known each other all through high school, only really becoming super close in the last two years, and even more so in my senior year of high school. She was there for me when no one else was. We went to the mall together in our free periods and we sat together during our art classes, we hyped each other up for our major projects in Drama class, and she read all my essays with enthusiasm that even some teachers didn’t exhibit. I hosted tutoring sessions for classmates to help us through the final exams, and she attended every session, keen to learn things she already knew.

She asks what I’m doing with my life, congratulates me with my recent graduation.

“What’s the next step for you?” she says, well, types. This is all over messages. She tells me she works as an ‘EA’ (or, ‘the office bitch’ as she dotingly refers to it) in the city, and she works full time and can’t meet until after the twenty-second. I’m happy for it, but I’m secretly jealous at how her life seems so put together at twenty-one, and I feel like I’ve tripped off a cliff and I haven’t stopped falling for even a second.

“I’m going back for further study,” I reply. “I applied for my MA the other day, and I’m thinking of applying to work at our high school in the meantime. Full circle, and whatnot.”

“That’s so great! You’ve been talking about this for forever. I’m so happy and proud of you,” she replies. I don’t remember telling her about it when we spoke, but maybe I did. Another reason for me wanting to reconnect with her is because my memories of high school and elementary and everything in between are spotty. I guess, when I live in books and fictional worlds of the things I write, my own reality tumbles a bit.

I remember, when I was first accepted into university, she was the first person I told. It wasn’t the degree I ended up doing, or at the university I ended up going to, but it was something I was proud of and something I wanted to do at the time. I remember talking about that. It was for a school in the capital, working in forensic science majoring in chemistry and law. Crazy, comparing it to the degree I ended up studying (linguistics and language science). It felt like me, but I guess, linguistics is me now.

We organize to meet up on a random Sunday, a date we will finalise more closer past the twenty-second, and we call it a night. I didn’t expect to hear from her again, but she pops up. She sends me a snapchat selfie of her at work, she texts me about whether I moved for uni like I’d always planned to and she asks what I do for work.

“I actually have two jobs right now. I work in retail in plus size women’s fashion and I also edit novels and online publications and stuff,” I say. Compared to her fancy full time job, I feel a bit like a joke. Both my jobs are part time, and even though editing is something I love doing (hence, delving my life into reading and writing), it’s not good paying, and I work on one project every few months. Retail is a nightmare, as is any nightmare. It’s better than my last job, I tell myself with the intention of forcing myself to be happy for what I have. I used to work at a department store, and I had for five years before I left.

I didn’t actually reply to her until a few days after about my work. I don’t know why, but I delayed it. Me and messaging people isn’t the best combination. Something about the tangibility and immediateness of it scares me, I think. It’s not uncommon for me to not reply to someone for hours, if not, days on end. There’s a video on Snapchat she sent me that I still haven’t opened, which is even more nerve wracking for me.

When I did reply to her, it was in the early morning, and she replied a couple hours later asking if it was a store in our local mall. I replied that it was, and she said she was coming to say hello.

I haven’t seen her in three years, and she’s coming to my workplace for a quick catch up chat.

I get nervous when it comes to going to things I’ve known about for weeks, pre-prepared plans with my own family. Now, I’m meeting the girl I used to be friends with until we fell apart spontaneously, and I don’t feel a thing. I don’t feel nervous, or anxious, or nauseous like I usually do. I just feel like me, maybe a little bit excited. It’s not a feeling I’m used to. I walk around my small store for hours until she comes in. And when she does, I’m talking to my coworker who just started. And it’s not awkward.

She tells me she’s moving into the city with her partner. She tells me her salary and her plans to move up in the company. She tells me how much money her company has spent on their Christmas party, and all I can do is swallow and stare at her.

Her hair is different, shorter. Her face is different, like she’s grown into it, but it’s the same girl underneath. The same girl I had known for five years before we became inseparable in senior year. Her voice sounds the same, but she’s aged. She’s grown into this beautiful twenty-one year old and I look the same as I have since I was sixteen. It’s not that I feel jealous, I’m proud of her. It’s strange to see.

When we were in high school, we used to joke that she would stay in this shitty town forever, without a partner, and still in the same shithole department store she worked in. She’s outgrown this town, and I can’t find it in me to hate her for it or be jealous that it’s not me. In high school, she played guitar and she sang and she would paint pictures in art class about what she was feeling like when she listened to music. Now, she’s flourished and she’s about to move out with her partner and start a life in the city, far away from the small town we grew up in.

We haven’t had a chance to plan a proper-catch up just yet. Originally, when I thought she was still staying here in our town, I had recommended a cafe we had visited many times before. Now, we’re talking about a shopping mall that’s local to her new place, with expensive bougie food that requires at least three pictures before fork can even be placed near the plate.

And I find that I dont care. As long as I can spend time with her. We have a lot to catch up on. And I am nothing but excited.

Saga.

#journal entry #entry 1 #writing

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soleilcrumbs · 3 years

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If We Were a Movie

HEY GUYS! THIS BLOG HAVE MOVED TO BY-SOLEIL!

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Pairing: Lee Haechan x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.4K+

Genre: so much angst😔

This fic was inspired by "If We Were a Movie - Hannah Montana"

•••

Ever since you were a little girl, you’ve always been obsessed with movies. Fascinated with how everything always seemed to work out in the end. Happy endings.

So, of course its a given thing that you are expecting a typical rom-com, fluffy type of high school life. You know, the one where the freshman caught the eye of an insanely good-looking senior who happens to be a star quarterback, who’s also in the running to become homecoming king? The type of movies you watch when it’s raining and you don’t feel like going out so instead, you snuggled up in your pjs with your fluffy blanket.

Too bad, Haechan unknowingly ruined just that for you.

Falling for Haechan was never part of the plan. At first, it was just a platonic friendship that developed over the 7-minute walk to the bus stop every morning.

Then he started coming over for study sessions, then your parents would asked his parents to watch over you when your sitter couldn’t make it. Some weekends would be spent sleeping on your living room couch with him cause his parents had to get out of town. And eventually you both become each other’s person.

He would not hesitate to leave whatever it is he’s currently doing with just one struggling whiny phone call from you. And to be honest, you’d also drop whatever the hell it is you’re doing if he ever needed you to come to him.

“How do I look?”

You gasp as you feel Haechan’s arm drape over your shoulder out of nowhere. Nearly making you drop the heavy textbook you’ve been carrying around the hallway since this morning.

“Damn, you scared me Haechan!” you nudge his sides with your elbow. “What do you want?”

“My bad, dude. How do I look?” he asks once more, stopping and pulling the both of you away from the busy school hallway to make sure you’re taking in all of his look from head to toe.

Haechan is the it guy. Everyone wants to be either his friends or lovers. He’s charming, getting everybody starstruck with his personality alone. The jaw dropping good look he’s blessed with is only adding more to the damage. That, you know all too damn well.

Standing oh so deliciously in his signature look, white t-shirt, black skinny jeans and his favorite leather jacket—the one that made him drag you along to a part-time job in a smoothie bar just around the corner of your school, all so he can afford the hefty price tag.

His hair smells really good and its also fluffy, a good kind of fluffy like the kind you got after a fresh blow out. The way you would lose your mind everytime his finger run through it, a useless attempt to get it out of his face only for it to fall back into places a second after.

“You got your game outfit on,” you pause, eyeing him up and down. “Now spill, who’s the girl this time?” who’s another lucky girl, to be exact.

“Alexis.” Haechan nonchalantly says, putting one of his arms back around your shoulder and start walking while his other hand snatch the heavy textbook from your sore one.

“The Alexis? Cheer captain Alexis? Classic move.” you roll your eyes. Of course it’s the cheer captain this time. Haechan always seem to go for the obvious. Why are you even surprised? This being the third time Haechan’s falling for the typical main character bitch.

“Yes, don’t you think we’d look good together, though? She’s your height, so that’s definitely the perfect height for me. She’s funny and cute and—“

“And hot as fuck.” you finish him off. Can’t really stand hearing him going on about another girl, knowing damn well you wish that person he’s rambling about was you.

“Exactly. You know me too well, dude.” he chuckles as you arrived to your first class of the day. Handing your textbooks back, he winks before leaving for his class.

•••

Sometime in the 5th grade, you started exploring on other movie genres. You really wished you didn’t though after bawling your eyes out watching your first non-happy-ending movie. The writer probably means well, trying to show their audiences that life happens and you can’t always get what you want.

Just like right now. Here you are, walking out of your house to the short trip down the sidewalk to Haechan’s home after your bestfriend called you over, something about how his date with Alexis is probably one of the best one he had yet.

Come to think of it, you should really thank whoever was behind those sad ending movies for humbling down your expectations. Though you’re still expecting happy endings, there is now a small—very, very small—part of you that expect the disappointment.

“Before you start, I need my chamomile tea.” you say with your hand gesturing him to zip his mouth. Not even bothering to to look his way as you enter his house.

“But then you’ll get all sleepy real fast. Come on, I need to get this out of my chest.” Haechan whines as he follow you to his kitchen.

“No I won’t. It’ll only calm my nerves. Maybe you should also have a cup.” you respond to him without even looking, too busy fiddling with the electric kettle.

“Nope, no thanks. I’ll stick to my Dr. Pepper—okay, you know what just hear me out and just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.” he backs off of your back and seat himself on one of the bar stool.

He then proceed to tell you all about his amazing date, how this amazing cheer captain most definitely break all the bad stereotypes surrounding her and the persona she carries.

Thanks to the fact that this is not your first rodeo or it might be the camomile tea you chugged down a few moments ago, you can easily smile and show your support as his bestfriend. Guess he’ll never know, that you should win an oscar for this scene you're in.

“I am so happy for you, dude.” you say when Haechan finally done with his tell. The glossiness in his eyes as he talked about all the girls lucky enough to get him on a date, tightens your chest even more.

Often times, you’d find yourself scribbling nonsense on the back of your notebook as you make up scenarios in your head. Scenarios about what life would be if you and Haechan were a movie.

“If we were a movie,” you pause. Contemplating wether you should sound out your thoughts this time. Aimlessly looking around your room knowing very well you’re home alone. “You’d be the right guy.” you continue as your gaze advert through the sheer curtain hanging before your window. Straight into the window that belongs to his room.

You take a deep breath before continuing, “And I’d be the bestfriend, that you’d fall in love with in the end.” a smile creaks as you keep going. “We’d be laughing,” you take another deep, deep breath to the verge of feeling physical pain in your chest.

“watching the sunset, fade to black, show the names—”

Hot tears are now pooling in your eyes, blurring your vision threatening to stream down. You try to blink it away, tilting your head up only to have it rolling down the side of your face, pass through your ears to land on your neck.

“Play the happy song.” you finally finish with a sob.

If only there’s a twist to this story of you and Haechan. Some kind of hero in disguise. A sweet twist where you can finally end up with him. And you can pour out all the affection built inside, express the longing you’ve always had for him. To be touched by Haechan, to feel his lips moving against yours. To be his.

But alas, this is not a movie.

Haechan might be the right guy, but you certainly are not the bestfriend that he falls in love with in the end.

•••

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helloalycia · 3 years

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teenage dirtbag [one] // wanda maximoff

summary: when you're paired with the most popular girl in your grade for Chemistry class, you definitely don't expect to start liking her like that...

warning/s: none i don't think??

author's note: okay so i have a ton of requests to work through but i got sidetracked and before i knew it, five parts of this imagine were written.

It's based off the song 'Teenage Dirtbag' and idk, i thought it was cute to write! Who doesn't love the popular girl!wanda and loner!reader concept?

Here’s a cover of the song to listen to because i really liked it and a girl sings it so it immediately made the song 10x more gay, just how i like it 🥰

"Are you all comfortable?"

The class stayed silent, watching our Chemistry teacher, Mr. Hale, as he looked to everyone with a raised brow.

"You all like who you're sat with?" he asked again, as if expecting an actual response from someone.

I exchanged questioning glances with my best friend, Y/BF/N, who was sat beside me. It was the first day back in Chemistry class of our final year of high school and we were just waiting to begin.

"Anyone?" he asked, looking around.

"Yeah," a few students mumbled in response so we could move on.

He clapped his hands together. "Great! Well, don't get too comfortable because I made a seating chart."

A chorus of groans erupted from the class, including from me and Y/BF/N. Every other class had successfully managed to not give us a seating chart. I'd heard that Mr. Hale was an awkward teacher who hated students (ironically), but I didn't think he'd stoop so low as to pair us with students who weren't our friends. These new seats were also our partners for the rest of the year and were non-negotiable, so any projects or work we did would have to be with our seat buddy. Fun.

Students began to shuffle to their newly-assigned seats reluctantly as Mr. Hale read out the chart. When Y/BF/N left my side, I frowned dramatically, waving goodbye to him.

"Wanda Maximoff, you're now partners with Y/N Y/L/N," said Mr. Hale, making me look up at the mention of my name.

I didn't get chance to register what he'd said as the aforementioned girl soon approached me, settling her bag on the table beside me. I looked up and saw Wanda Maximoff smiling my way before taking a seat on the stool.

Huh. Wanda Maximoff. She was one of the most popular girls in our grade. Everybody loved her, either wanting to be friends with her, be with her or be her. I'd personally never crossed paths with her apart from the few classes we shared. She seemed nice enough, but I guess I had preconceived notions of what she was like since she'd made the very poor decision to date the most obnoxious guy ever. Anyone making decisions that terrible definitely had a flaw.

She had a twin brother, Pietro, who was also in our grade and played on the football team alongside her boyfriend. Her parents were good friends with mine, through mutual friends, I think, as I recalled my mum mentioning 'Mrs. Maximoff's boy' or 'Mrs. Maximoff's girl'. And I remembered when her family moved into our town back in second grade.

Admittedly, Wanda was the star of the show back then, too. We were only kids, but child Y/N wasn't blind. She was the first girl I'd crushed on, an innocent child crush – the crush that made me realise I liked girls. Apart from that, and the fact that she had a locker behind me in the hallway, I never really thought about her.

I glanced behind me, catching Y/BF/N's gaze across the room as he sat beside some other kid. He frowned, implying he wished we were partners, and I knew just how he felt.

Once Mr. Hale finished assigning seats, he gave us five minutes to get to know our new partners as he struggled to find the powerpoint for today's class. If there was anything worse than getting assigned seats, it was ice breakers.

"Er, well, hi," Wanda greeted, turning to face me. Green eyes sparkled brightly behind a friendly smile. "I'm Wanda. But, I mean, we already know each other."

"That we do," I said with a nod, returning her smile. "How're you doing? Your summer go well?"

She ran a hand through her hair, adjusting herself so she was comfortable on her stool. And as she did, a waft of her perfume washed over me and I blinked, trying to ignore how nice it smelled. Floral. Subtle. It suited her.

"Good, yeah," she answered with a nod. "Could have gone on longer for all I care."

I chuckled. "I feel that. I'm definitely not ready to be back."

"Right?" she said with raised brows. "It's gonna take a while to get back into routine, that's for sure. But I guess I did miss seeing my friends everyday."

I hummed in agreement, eyes flickering to Mr. Hale as he attempted to tackle the oncoming stream of animations on his powerpoint. I tried not to laugh as I looked back to Wanda, who clearly noticed the same thing as me and stifled a smile.

"Have you had Mr. Hale before?" I asked, nodding his way.

She shook her head. "Nope. You?"

"Never."

"Sucks that he makes seating charts," she said with a sigh, before realising what she said and looking to me with panicked eyes. "Not that I don't like you or anything–!"

"It's fine, I get it," I cut her off with an amused smile. "I wanted to sit with my friend, too."

She breathed out quietly, a hint of relief in her eyes, and scrunched her nose with an apologetic smile. Okay, yeah, maybe that was kind of cute. Older Y/N wasn't blind either. Wanda Maximoff was beautiful, with long brunette locks and matching hazel eyes that seemed to change from blue to green to brown in a kaleidoscope of colour. A winning smile and soothing voice was enough for anyone to fall for her unintentional charm, but it was purely admiration. Everyone pretty much had a mild crush on her, you'd be stupid not to.

"If we're gonna be working together, d'you wanna get the whole awkward number exchange out the way now?" she asked, half joking, half not.

"I– er– sure," I stumbled out rather carelessly, before cringing internally. Where did that come from?

Thankfully, she didn't seem to pick up on it (or just saved me the embarrassment of acknowledging it) and was already writing her number on a slip of paper. Sliding it my way, she capped her pen and gave me her signature smile.

"Thanks," I said with a nod, accepting the paper and pocketing it. "Can't wait to start those lovely science projects we've got coming up!"

She let out a quiet laugh at my sarcasm. "It'll be fine. You're not dumb, right? So, we'll be fine."

"Can't promise you that," I joked, making her roll her eyes playfully.

"Maybe if we–"

But she was cut off when Mr. Hale spoke up loudly, interrupting everyone's conversations.

"Five minutes are up, let's begin!"

I wondered if everyone was thinking the same thing as me – that was not five minutes.

"So it begins...," I mumbled to myself, facing forward.

Wanda breathed out, a stifled laugh, probably having heard my comment, and I couldn't help but crack a smile. Maybe I judged her too harshly. She wasn't actually that bad.

—

Since being paired with Wanda, I was surprised by how much she'd made an effort to befriend me outside of class. We'd always been back to back with our lockers though not quite speaking, but since becoming Chemistry partners, she'd wish me a good morning if she caught me, or greet me briefly as we collected our books.

She didn't have to, but I could see why everybody liked her now. She was just genuinely nice. Due to circumstance, we'd become partners, but rather than leaving it at that, she made a genuine effort to befriend me. And not even just me, but also Y/BF/N, who was at the locker next to mine. He was as surprised as I was, expecting Wanda to mind her own business as we weren't exactly in the same social circles.

This was, I guess you could say, the start of our friendship. And it was a good one at that. I grew to learn how funny she was, how much she loved her brother, the passion she had for art and painting... she was a wonderful person. Which is why I didn't understand why she was with her boyfriend, Nate. He was a grade-A dick and everything Wanda wasn't. How were they a thing?

It sounds like I'm being a bitch and judgemental, but he really is the worst. The few unfortunate times I shared a class with him or caught sight of him around school, he was causing some sort of trouble with the teachers or picking on students in a way that made it seem like a joke but everybody knew it wasn't.

For example, there was a time when Wanda and I were studying for an upcoming Chemistry test we had. We decided to just help each other study since we already worked together in class, so knew we could motivate each other to actually put in the work. It was, maybe, the fourth studying session we had, and I was going over some notes when I felt her eyes watching me.

"You need a hand?" I asked, unable to take the staring any longer. I looked up at her, quirking a brow.

She seemed to fall out of her daydream and straightened up, eyes flickering to mine. "Huh?"

I gave her an awkward smile, unable to maintain her gaze. "You're staring."

She didn't seem fazed as I called her out, instead leaning back in her seat and continuing to study me curiously.

"Did you do something different with your hair?"

Subconsciously reaching for my hair, I straightened up my ponytail and shook my head. "No...?"

She chewed on her lip, saying after a pause, "You tied it up. You usually leave it out."

Did I? I wasn't sure. I just knew that her noticing something like that made me feel self conscious all of a sudden.

"It looks good," she decided, before offering up a small smile. "You should do it like that more often."

Quickly, I felt warm. Was it stuffy in here or was it just me? God, compliments already made me feel stupid. And compliments from pretty girls made me feel ten times that. It didn't help that she was watching me with an endearing expression, making me focus on my book before me.

"Thanks," I got out quickly. "I– yeah."

Her smile widened before she looked back down to her own book. Suddenly, I became acutely aware of the way her leg brushed up against mine under the table.

Thankfully, the strange fuzzy feeling following her compliment faded and we were able to get back to work without her tuning out again. As we were going over each other's practice questions, an annoying voice shouted from across the library.

"Wanda, head's up!"

"Hey, no talking in the library!" a librarian hissed at the voice.

Wanda and I looked up just in time for a football to smack me in the side of the head. I didn't even see it coming until I felt the thing slap my head, giving me an instant urge to strangle whoever threw it.

"Fuck," I cursed, holding my head and closing my eyes to breathe through the pain.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" Wanda's voice made me open my eyes and I saw her leaning forward, hand resting on my shoulder and the other on top of mine that was clutching my head.

"Been better," I admitted, trying to make light of the situation because as angry as I was at the idiot who threw it, I was also embarrassed because it hit me.

Wanda seemed concerned as she gently pulled me hand away, not letting go as she got a better look at the side of my face which I was sure was burning red. At least that's what it felt like.

"Shit, I'm so sorry."

I looked up and saw none other than Nate Green, Wanda's boyfriend, hovering and stifling a laugh as he looked at me. He had his stupid varsity jacket on and I was tempted to strangle him with it.

"I thought Wanda would catch it," he explained stupidly, before moving around the desk to collect his football.

Breathing out through gritted teeth, I pulled away from Wanda and nodded reassuringly. "I'll be fine. Just need an ice pack."

"You're such an idiot, Nate!" Wanda snapped, looking to him with a glare. "You need to watch what you're doing!"

He smiled sheepishly, making me roll my eyes and clench my jaw at the heat on the right side of my face. Fuck, that really hurt.

"What did you want?" Wanda asked him with a quirked brow. She definitely wasn't impressed. I'd hate to ever be on the wrong side of that condescending glare.

"I thought we could go out," he said like it was that simple.

"I'm studying," she quipped with crossed arms.

"I'm happy to wait," he said, toying with the ball in his hands.

Knowing I definitely didn't want that, I closed my books and said, "It's cool. You guys go. I think we're done here anyway."

Nate grinned. "See? S'all good."

Wanda ignored him and looked to me with worried eyes. "Y/N, are you sure?"

"You know your stuff," I said, referring to the work. "You'll be fine in the test. I'm sure."

I offered her a small, forced smile, before standing up to pack my bag. She did the same, beginning to pack her own things, but her eyes kept flittering towards me.

"D'you want me to go to the nurse's office with you?" she asked, shame laced in her voice.

"It's fine, I'll be fine," I said, hurrying up with my actions so I could just get out of here whilst I still had (some of) my dignity left. "See you in class tomorrow."

She nodded, sending a guilty smile my way. "See you tomorrow, Y/N."

Without giving either of them a look, I shouldered my backpack and left the library. Just another reminder of why Nate Green was literally the worst person ever.

—

Liking Wanda as more than a friend wasn't something that happened for a while if I'm being honest. I guess I started to enjoy her presence more and more the longer we spent time together.

I'd come to appreciate it whenever she'd say something completely out of the blue that made no sense whatsoever, or whenever she'd laugh at something I'd said that was arguably not funny but she didn't want to make me feel bad, or even whenever I teased her about something stupid she did, resulting in her doing that cute little nose scrunch she did. But I didn't think of it as liking her, more just a randomly-formed friendship that I was glad to have.

Maybe it was this misinterpretation that didn't make me see how I was acting around her, such as the time I was in the dinner queue at lunch when I realised she was stood behind me.

"Oh, hey, Y/N," she said when she noticed it was me in front of her. Her usual bright, friendly smile was on her lips as she looked to me. "You good?"

I nodded, returning her smile. "Yeah. Just getting some doughnuts for Y/BF/N and I. You?"

"Same," she said, before nudging the guy next to her, who I recognised as her brother. "Pietro and I thought we'd treat ourselves."

At the mention of his name, Pietro looked down to his sister before his gaze fell on me. A mischievous smile appeared on his lips as he put out his hand.

"Pietro Maximoff," he introduced. "You must be the Chemistry partner, Y/N, right?"

I raised my eyebrows with surprise as I shook his hand. "You, er, know who I am?"

He glanced at his sister with a cheeky smile. Wanda was avoiding both of our gazes, her cheeks dusting pink.

Clearly saving face for Wanda, he said, "We've been in the same grade since kids, right? 'Course I do."

Despite the truth to his words, something told me that wasn't how he knew who I was. Especially since I was sure I'd never spoken to him in my life. But, to save Wanda the embarrassment of clearly having spoken of me at home, I nodded to Pietro.

"Right," I agreed with an amused smile. "Duh."

I moved down the queue and grabbed two doughnuts from the display, putting them in two separate paper bags.

"Dibs the last one!" Pietro exclaimed as soon as I returned the clippers to the display. He reached around his sister immaturely and bagged the last doughnut.

Wanda rolled her eyes. "You know I can ask for more, right?"

Pietro grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Go on then."

The two were twins, but they couldn't have been more different. I simply revelled in their interaction, finding it adorable.

Wanda did as she said, asking the dinner lady if there were any more doughnuts in the back. Unfortunately for her, those were the last for the day, making Pietro laugh as Wanda pouted.

"Sucks to be you," he teased her, as I paid for mine and Y/BF/N's doughnuts.

"I hate you," she mumbled playfully, but I saw the disappointment in her eyes as he lovingly but annoyingly waved his bag before her eyes.

Without even thinking much of it, I held out one of the bags in my hand. "Here. You can have mine."

Wanda looked to me with surprise. "Are you sure? I can live without a doughnut, if that's what you're thinking."

I chuckled, grabbing her hand and making her take it. "It's okay. I wasn't in the mood anyway."

Plus, you look better when you're smiling and not pouting, I added in my head.

She accepted the bag reluctantly. "I– thanks. At least let me pay for it–"

"It's just a doughnut, Wanda," I teased, before nodding her way. "See you later."

Leaving her and Pietro to it, I headed back to the table Y/BF/N was sat at and took a seat opposite him before giving him his doughnut.

"Sweet," he said, quickly opening the bag before realising I didn't have one. "Where's yours?"

Over his shoulder, I saw Wanda and Pietro taking a seat at their lunch table, doughnuts in hand and a heartwarming smile on Wanda's lips.

"They ran out," I answered Y/BF/N. "Wasn't in the mood anyway. Enjoy."

He shrugged before digging in. I'd like to say I didn't spare glances in Wanda's direction every now and then for the rest of the lunch hour, but I'd be lying if I did.

—

I'm in the art department. You okay to bring it here?

I read over the text Wanda sent me before shooting her an 'okay' and heading to the Art department. I'd grabbed her notebook in class earlier on, only realising as I was studying with Y/BF/N in the library and pulled out an extra one, so I was going to give it her back.

I guess, when you realise you like someone, it comes randomly, suddenly, without warning. Liking someone isn't instant, it's constant and gradual and subconscious. I guess I'd been falling for Wanda for a while, without even realising, but today was the day I acknowledged that fact.

The Art department wasn't somewhere I frequented regularly – give me a paint and brushes and I'd probably present you with a finger painting – but it was definitely worth the visit. Art pieces from current and past students were hung on the walls, a mural of the school was spray painted on another, and sculptures stood around. The whole department brought a smile to anyone's face with its bright colours and open space – I could see why Art students always hung out here, Wanda included.

Speaking of Wanda, I found her in one of the classrooms sat at a stool in front of a series of canvasses. The room had a few other Art students littered around, working on their own pieces during their lunch period, otherwise it was empty.

"Hey," I called, getting her attention as I approached her.

She followed my voice and straightened up with a cheery smile. "Y/N, hey. Thanks for coming. I'm working on my Art project, so I couldn't pull myself away."

I waved my hand dismissively, joining her side. "It's all good, don't worry." My eyes wandered to the series of canvases on easels she was working on and widened. "Holy shit, these are so good."

Three unfinished hyperrealistic portraits of people were before us, one whom I recognised as Pietro. The paintings were so detailed, despite their medium-size, and I couldn't imagine how long they must have taken.

"You think?" she asked, glancing between them. "I think I messed up the nose here." She pointed with the back end of her paintbrush to the nose of Pietro. "It's a bit bent."

I almost laughed as I looked to her with disbelief. "Are you kidding? Wanda, these are amazing. How did you even do this?"

She looked down bashfully, a nervous smile on her lips. "I don't know. It's for a project. I chose to do family portraits." She pointed to each one as she said, "My mum, my dad and my brother."

I was in awe of her talent, jaw dropped with amazement still. I always knew she was an artist, but I'd never actually seen her work. I was starting to wish I'd come here a lot sooner.

"So, you got my notebook?" she asked, pulling me back into reality.

I looked away from the paintings reluctantly before getting her notebook from my bag and holding it out for her. As she accepted it, she must have forgotten she was holding her paintbrush as the tip brushed my wrist, leaving a swipe of red there.

"Oh, my bad," she said with a laugh, before setting her notebook and brush down and grabbing a paper towel from beside her.

Wetting it with water from her bottle, she pressed it to my wrist and swiped the paint away. It was such a mundane action, but the way her fingers gently held my wrist and emanated a warmth only she seemed to carry sent shivers down my spine.

I glanced up at her, letting her do it, and noticed the swipe of paint she had across her cheek, as if she'd touched her face without realising.

Now that I paid attention, I noticed how cute she looked in her Art getup. An old, oversized shirt covered in paint was being worn to cover her clothes, sleeves loosely rolled up to her elbows. Her long hair was tied back into a ponytail, but her baby hairs framed her forehead adorably.

When her hair wasn't in her face, her eyes only seemed more intense, glistening with excitement and happiness. I almost forgot to breathe when they met mine briefly, a hint of embarrassment there from when cleaning me up. She was in her element here and it made sense to me now.

I knew I'd fallen for her.

—

"You don't get it," I was saying to Y/BF/N as we hung about the school gym, waiting for the teacher to start the lesson. "It's bad. I like her. Like, like like her."

Y/BF/N laughed, clapping me on the back with pity. "You're screwed."

I frowned. "I know."

As he stretched for class, he continued, "I mean, I get it, I do. She's super nice. Pretty. And you guys seem to get on."

I chewed on my lower lip worriedly.

He gave me a knowing look. "There's one problem though."

I groaned, running a hand down my face. "I know, I know. She's got that dick of a boyfriend."

He chuckled. "That's one way to put it."

I sighed, crossing my arms with annoyance. Since realising I liked Wanda as a little more than a friend, things weren't going well for me. Whenever we worked together, I'd forget what I was thinking because I was too busy admiring her side profile or getting lost in her eyes. If she spoke about the work, told a joke or was simply speaking her thoughts aloud, I'd focus on every little thing she was saying, knowing I could listen to her speak all day. It was bad, but thankfully I hadn't stumbled over my words or made a total fool of myself in front of her. I was determined to not let it get that far.

My eyes wandered around the gym as Y/BF/N tried to give me advice, but admittedly, his words flew in one ear and out the other when I caught sight of Wanda.

She was standing with her friends, smiling and laughing to whatever they were saying. Like everyone else in here, she was wearing her gym kit – black athletic shorts and a blue and white tee shirt, the colour of our school. It wasn't anything special, yet she made it seem that way, outdoing anyone in here. Her brown hair was tied back, the ponytail falling down her back, showing her stunning profile and making my mouth go dry.

Another clap on the back from Y/BF/N pulled me from my reverie and I looked to see he was laughing at me.

"Majorly screwed," he corrected his previous comment.

He was definitely right.

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #mcu #wanda maximoff au #Spotify

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spookysmujer · 4 years

Text

Piensa En Mi, O. Diaz

Summary: The relationship with you and Oscars suddenly ends after he gets locked up. Now it’s 4 years later..

warnings: HELLA angst, heartbreak

word count: 1.9K

a/n: I had an itch to write today, thank you for requesting babes! Sorry it took this long to get done. I hope everyone is doing okay these days. PSA: Stop the hate against Asians! Speak up for our brothers and sisters, please. I love you all! Please consider: following, heart/comment/reblog my content! Thank you <)

Requested by @boujee-bitches!

(gif belongs to @merakiaes)

You can remember the day you realized just how much you were in love with Oscar Diaz. It was a few months into dating, he had been in and out of town on Santo business, and yet still was able to check in with you. He even sent you doordash multiple times. And in that one moment, as the doordash driver stood at your door, carrying a bag of your favorite pastrami sub, you truly felt your heart bleed for Oscar. The feelings entirely mutual with him. You can remember that exact moment you felt it, just as you remember the moment your heart had been ripped away.

The consequence of having such a pristine memory is the ability to remember not only the good days but the hurtful ones as well. Now, after years of being with Oscar, he’s gone. Things had been going so well with the Santos and moving up in the ranks for him. Then in a matter of seconds, all that changed. The moment those handcuffs linked his wrists together behind his back as he was whisked away in the back of the patrol car was the day everything changed.

Change.

They always say that change is a good thing. But whoever they are, they were wrong. Change is malicious, it’s life-consuming and does nothing but harm. In the beginning you were confident everything would be okay. Nothing could break this man, he has been through the highest highs and the lowest lows. He has endured things as a young child that no child should. Even when the judge has sentenced him to 8 years, the look he gave you said: It’ll be okay, mamas.

For the first few months, things were good. The money he would send to you, you’d put on his books regardless of his wishes for you not to do so. The phone calls that didn’t last nearly as long as you wanted it to. And the letters, even if you talked on the phone and visited him often, Oscar still wrote you letters, and he always drew something for you.

But it began to get difficult. When school started up in the fall, your full-time job and now taking care of his younger brother, you started to miss calls, needed to reschedule visits. And when you would answer, Oscar would give you the cold shoulder. He realized that you were beating yourself up for trying to juggle everything. He hated himself for making you so stressed just to make it to him. So on a surprise call that you weren’t expecting, he broke it to you that dating while he is incarcerated is foolish of you. It’s a waste of your time. Please take care of yourself and Cesar, we’ll see where we are when I’m out. But for now, it’ll be just me.

That day replays in your mind. No more calls, rejected visits, ghost letters. It felt like he died, though you would have been notified of it if that was the case. But that was 4 years ago, everything had changed and according to Cesar, it’s about to change again.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” You ask, after holding your breath. Spooky gets out tomorrow.

Cesar shovels the rest of his cereal in his mouth and gulps down the remaining milk, rushing around the kitchen and gathering his school things, “Oscar. He gets out tomorrow. His sentence reduced to half the time, remember the hearing they had last week?”

Whenever Cesar would talk about his older brother, you would tune it out. Oscar breaking up with you over the phone without a thorough reason, then dropping you as a person all together really broke you beyond repair. But you had no choice but dust off your shoulders and keep going.

You hum and nod, packing your lunch.Without saying anything else, you head back to your room to get your things ready for work. As you pass by the room that Cesar had taken residency in, you notice the packed bags. “Cesar!”

But by the time you make it back to the kitchen, he has already left out the door. Was he about to leave? Did he want out now that Oscar will be out? Though the idea was to care for Cesar while his brother was locked up, to know he is already ready to up and leave, hurts you. But you shake it off, Oscar is coming home, shit.

Your day goes by painstakingly slow. All you could think about is how it would go when you’d see him again, how will you feel? What about him, what will he feel?

“Y/N, did you hear me?” Cesars voice sounds from across the table, the two of you enjoying some take-out. The day has gone from slower than a sloth to as quick as sonic the hedgehog.

He stares at you, waiting for you to respond. “Now that Oscar is getting out, it’s time for you to head on back home. Yeah, I heard you. Just sucks is all, I feel like my daily routine will be all messed up.” You joke to which he grins at.

The next day comes by in a blink of an eye. Here you are leaning against your car that is parked in front of Oscars house. You can’t bring yourself to walk up those stairs and face him. But he hasn’t exited the house yet, you wonder if he even will. After Cesar gets the last bag is when you hear the front door. He makes his way towards you, your breath getting stuck in your airways.

Cesar hugs you and thanks you again, you squeeze him and ask that he doesn’t be a stranger. Then there stood, you and Oscar. He stares at you for a long moment, studying you. It’s been nearly 4 years since he’s seen you. You are the same with little differences here and there, “You finally pierced your nose.” He points out.

You purse your lips and nod, scoffing and looking him in the eyes, “Almost 1,300 days of not talking to me and seeing me…. And my nose ring is the first thing you say to me?”

It wasn’t the plan to argue, you wanted to ask him to be kind to Cesar and take care of him then be on your merry way. But being in his physical presence now, it’s made your blood boil. How could he stand there like nothing had happened between you? The history you two have was an epic love and heartbreak but by the look on his face, it’s as if you are a stranger in passing.

He licks his bottom lip and digs his hands into his shorts pockets, “What you want me to say? I said all I needed to that day on the phone.”

Your arms uncross from over your chest and your mouth falls slightly open. But before you can let out the rage that’s been building up continuously over the years, “I miss you, querida.” He watches your face contort to confusion then back to anger. He nearly smiles to see that you are still the hot head you’ve always been.

The words weren’t coming out as you wanted them to. All you could do was stomp past him to leave but he grabs your upper arm to stop you. You look down to where his hand wraps around your arm then up to his eyes, the look you give him is loud enough for him to let go.

“Can you just listen to me? You think I wanted to break things off? That it didn’t hurt me just as much as it hurt you?” Oscar begins, standing directly in front of you and slightly craning his head down. “I fucking hated that I did that to you, mami. The last thing I want in this world is not being with you, to cause you pain and to have done that when I was locked up? I hated it. Every single day. But I needed to do it because all I was doing was holding you back. I couldn’t bare knowing that I was making your life hard.”

An eruption of laughter sounds from you, you hold your stomach and one hand clamped over your mouth, hunching over from how hilarious you find his last sentence. Though anyone else hearing it wouldn’t really laugh, seeing as it wasn’t a funny statement. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. But do you hear yourself? You thought breaking up would be better. I don’t know if there was ever a time during our relationship prior that I made you feel I couldn’t handle something like you being locked up, I am terribly sorry if I had but I thought I proved to you that I was more than in love with you, I was hopelessly devoted to you, I was willing to endure it all, every call or visit. I was ready to work hard to make sure you could make tienda… but what did I do or what did I say to make you think otherwise?”

Oscar feels the chains on his heart tighten with every word you say. He doesn’t know what hurts him more, the break-up or now knowing how worthless it made you feel. He knows you are an understanding person, but his intentions didn’t settle as he hoped it would.

It takes all his might to resist pulling you into a hug, With how you reacted to his touch just moments ago, he knows a hug would only result in profanities being spewed out. As if a hug could magically glue the pieces back together and fix it all. “You didn’t do shit wrong, Y/N. You were the epitome of a down ass girl. But all I could see was the tiredness in your face when you would visit me because you were playing mother to Cesar meanwhile trying to juggle everything else. Trying to make sure you would always come to see me… so I thought ending everything would be better, I thought you would be better off.”

The rage and ache in your heart fights against each other. He is saying one thing but to you its processing as nothing but an excuse. You want to yell and thrash your fists against his chest so he can feel just a sliver of what you went through.

“I was better off with you. It didn’t matter to me what we were going through Oscar… If it was something joyous or something scrutinizing, as long it was with you and we were together, I wanted it all with you. I was ready to go through this journey with you. But you just gave up on us like that.” You snap your fingers and blink away the tears that had begun pooling for sometime now. His shoulders cave in and he dips his head down, unable to keep his eyes locked onto yours.

“Give me a chance to prove that I haven’t given up on you or us.”

You wanted to laugh again. To point and scream how silly he sounds and to catch the circus act before they leave town but the way he says it is the reason you didn’t. How low his voice is, how soft his eyes are and his walls had dropped to below sea level is what made you stand so incredibly still.

Do you take the chance? Should push aside all the vines and roots that have grown over the chest labeled: Oscar, to let him in again?

taglist: @clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss @princesstiffxoxo @firebenderwolf @mbaku-babygirl @chellybear98 @multiyfandomgirl40 @i-just-wanna-live-gc @roury66 @lillict @tinylumpiaa @prettymya3 @starrynite7114 @aneitii @b3mybunnybaby @angelxfics @spookysbabymama @kkim120 @ladylj @vayagrxce @irenne-stans @boujee-bitches @blessedboo @lidumiw @morenokatt @gltrpzy (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

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erensrag · 3 years

Text

the one -

armin x yn (wc: 12720)

warnings: nsfw/smut, yandere armin, obsession, mentions of stalking, manipulation, toxic relationship, armin being a creep in love basically. summary makes it seem like he kidnaps reader lmao he doesn’t

summary: having seen enough of you managing without him, armin decides to finally take matters into his own hands and make you his.

armin doesn't understand.

he thought he planned everything out perfectly. he gave you your space, hasn’t given anyone the slightest suggestion of his feelings for you—at least the people you both know. he wanted you to come to him willingly, no persuasion or sweet talks.

he did everything perfectly. he's the perfect student, always has been. has gotten straight a's since the moment he entered his first grade, received a full scholarship to some college he could care less about instead of his dream one because that's the one you chose, even helped you with your college admission letters. he's well off, could've—could take care of you your entire life. he's loved by everyone on campus and even in high school, he was the apple of everyone's eye.

you knew how perfect he was back then and how he's thriving right now so how the hell...of all people why him? he clenches the beer can in his hand, watching you stumble up the stairs with none other than his best friend.

this isn't like the other boys you've dated. he can't just threaten or throw cash at him until he realizes you'll always belong to armin and leave you alone. eren doesn't listen to anyone and even if he did try any threats, it'd just ruin the nice guy reputation he’d had spent years building up.

he throws the can onto the sofa, immediately trailing after you two before he can stop himself. he thought spending the summer in everyone’s home town would've just brought them closer—specifically brought you and him closer, that was the plan after all. not you and eren. you two have barely spoken three words to each other your entire lives.

it doesn't make sense.

he thought he knew everything about you. he had organized every single detail regarding you in sections and tucked the pictures in that little box that's been tucked under his dorm bed for years. maybe he gave too much space? college was undoubtedly stressful, he must've become too busy with his studies to look over you. to make sure you made the right decisions and weren't tainted by the hands of everyone around you.

he had screwed up.

but he intends to make it right. to put you back on the right track, the one you're supposed to be on. the one that leads you straight to him.

he found the two of you in some random bedroom, disgust immediately taking over him at the sight. is this who you were now? a few months of not talking to one another and you were already ruining your life by letting yourself get fucked by eren of all people in a bedroom you didn't even know the owner of?

his nails dig into his palms as he watches through the creek in the door, you guys didn't even bother to close it all the way. as if you wanted an audience. eren was already slamming into you, like you were nothing more than a toy dying to be used and defiled. like a whore. is that who you are now y/n? a whore? the more he stares, the more it seems like it. you’re on your stomach, hands clenching the sheets and head thrown back in pleasure.

the pace of his thrusts has you letting out high pitched moans, a bit of saliva sliding down your chin. "e—eren." you cry out and armin would've walked in there and punched the daylights out of his own best friend because no one deserves to hear you calling their name out like that except for him. it's unfair. so unfair he could fucking die out of fury right now. but he didn't. he stood there, frozen because hitting his best friend—anyone is out of character for him.

it would've raised eyebrows and questions he doesn't want to answer. but still...the way eren snaps his cock in you sloppily, the slap of skin against skin filling the room makes him bite down on his tongue to the point of blood. the anger is consuming him and he's not sure he can watch this torture any longer.

"y—you're—n—ngh so big, eren." you moan like a bitch in heat, tongue almost lolling out as eren grabs your hair, pulling your head back even more so he can plant a disgusting kiss on your lips.

at least you're still dressed, outfit clinging to your sweaty body. at least he doesn't get to see anything too valuable. at least armin still has that for himself. it's when eren grips your clothed breast that he decides enough is enough, he's ready to open the door and storm in the room but a hand is quickly grabbing his forearm.

he freezes, has someone been watching him? did they see anything? fuck, are they going to think he's some huge pervert? judging by his actions tonight, maybe he is. he slowly turns around, closing the door in front of him before the person can ask any questions.

it's historia. her pupils are dilated as she leans onto armin's arm. the booming sound of the music from downstairs drowns out whatever she's slurring out right now but armin pretty's sure he has a gist of it. "let's get you home." he sighs, placing his hand on her shoulder.

she shakes her head, "we—gotta...find y/n." she says a bit louder, clenching her eyes shut before opening them again. "my head hurts." she whines.

"that's what happens when you decide to act like a damn delinquent." he mutters bitterly more to himself, it's not like she'll remember any of this tomorrow. "now let's go home before mom kills us."

"but—y/n. we came with her, we can't just...just..." she clenches the front of his shirt before letting out a choked gag.

armin huffs, almost throwing her off before she ruins his clothes but even as annoying as she is, leaving his sister in a place like this isn't such a good idea. especially for his reputation. he would take y/n with him as well but it seems she's too preoccupied. too tainted to think straight.

but like he said, he'll make sure to fix that. he has two months to get everything back to the way they were. and maybe even a little better.

he's waited years for your friendship with him to blossom into something more but it seems nothing will happen without him egging a few things on first.

he spends the entire night tossing and turning, nightmares of the party before repeating in his head over and over again.

if it was anything else, he thinks he would've been able to let it go after taking a few precautions. but this isn't anything else. this is big and it only spirals the blotchy jealously he's tried hard to keep under wraps over the years, threatening to invade his thoughts with vile images.

he's awake long enough to hear the front door opening at three in the morning. immediately getting up and walking towards his slightly open door, knowing it's you. historia and his mother are sound asleep and besides his father who's rarely home due to work, you're the only one left with a key.

he made sure to pressure historia into getting you one as soon as possible the second he found out you were spending the summer with them. groaning fills the silence of the house followed by you stumbling up the stairs. he expects to hear you go into the guest room you're staying in or historia's bedroom but the bathroom door opens instead.

a few minutes passes before he hears you groaning again, this time louder and his feet inch towards the hallway, wanting nothing more than to go to you. but then that angry feeling rises again and an acidic taste resides on his tongue. he doesn't want to be angry at you, he's never been angry at you. he should be furious with eren only. the way he took advantage of your kindness and obliviousness isn't right. if you were sober, you never would've gone for him.

he sighs heavily, walking towards the bathroom door. you're slouched over the toilet, gagging into it and he races over. the concern is etched on his face as his hand rests on your back, startling you. you turn your head, movements sluggish. "armin?"

he didn't even have the decency to walk you inside? make sure you got into bed properly? fucking asshole.

"you okay?" he asks. it's the most you two have spoken to each other all summer.

"y-yeah." you wipe your lips. "sleepy." you murmur.

he gets up, putting his arm around your waist as he helps you stand. "rinse your mouth." he mutters and you obey, going to the sink to put some water in your mouth and spitting it out. "let's get you to bed."

you two stumble out of the bathroom, he makes sure to keep his hands around your waist. his chest constricting with want as he gets to feel you, it's been ages since you two have touched each other. he eyes your bedroom door, that's where he originally wanted to take you but he can't help but think back to that party. at how eren got to experience everything he wasn't able to. then he sees the bruises on your neck, he grits his teeth so hard he's sure they're going to chip any second.

no. he deserves this little thing. it's not like he's going to do anything inappropriate, he's not like that jackass who decided he deserved to touch you like that. he just wants to be near you. it's been awhile, too long. and it's not like you two haven't slept in the same bed before.

that's what he tells himself as he guides the both of you towards his own bedroom, slowly placing you on the bedsheets to which you immediately snuggle into. he eyes flicker towards the closet door, contemplating whether to take out a random t-shirt and place you in it but you'd just be waking up with questions he wouldn't be able to answer. the armin everyone knows can't even look at a girl without blushing, let alone undress her.

so he opts for just laying down besides you on the sheets, he can explain this if you wake up confused. that you just drunkly stumbled in his room and laid down next to him. he turns his head, captivated by every rise and fall of your chest. your eyelashes fluttering as you snuggle deeper into the pillow, letting out incoherent whimpers.

his fingers slowly trace your cheek, chest burning badly with want. all he wants to do is touch, touch, touch. you just look so beautiful, so serene. and he can't help brush a thumb over your bottom lip. the same lips that were moaning out eren's just a few hours ago. that dark feeling is back and he can't help but press his finger down on your lip harshly, you let out a tiny whine but keep your eyes closed, too sleepy to really comprehend what's going on.

what's so special about him? he doesn't get it. eren's a meathead. he isn't fit to take care of you, to cater to your every need and make sure you never have to want for anything. to be ready to do whatever is necessary to keep you happy, even if it means hurting those you don't realize are harming you.

he leans forward, lips ghosting over yours but never touching. no, he wants you to be awake and alert for when your lips finally meet. so you can see no one else in this world but him deserves you. but fuck, he wants to kiss you. your lips look so soft, so addicting, like they were made for him. and they were. every inch of your body was created for him just like his was for you.

he needs to make this right, make you see what was standing in front of you all long. he could punch himself for not realizing he needed to act on this sooner.

but he will now. he'll make sure to fix everything.

armin wakes up before you, not wanting to be in the room when you finally snapped out of your slumber. fortunately, you don't stay asleep too long, waking up only thirty minutes after.

he's already made breakfast by then, blueberry pancakes just the way you like them. you step into the kitchen and he almost drops the glass of orange juice he's holding. you're dressed in his oversized hoodie with some shorts, it practically engulfs your frame as you awkwardly sit on a stool.

you're wearing his clothes.

his clothes are touching your skin right now. making contact with your chest, stomach and breasts. he gulps, placing the glass down. "m-morning."

"morning..." you trail off, slowly drumming your fingers on the counter. "pancakes?"

he quickly pushes a plate towards you, he shamelessly designed it like it held a five course meal instead of simple pancakes but you seem to appreciate it as you gasp. "this looks amazing."

"did you sleep well?" he deliberately asks that question just to see you squirm.

you tense up, picking up the fork as you jab the pancakes. "yeah...uh sorry i was in your room and...bed. must've stumbled in there last night."

"it's fine." he smiles. "i slept on the couch, no worries." the lie flows out as if he didn't spend the last few hours cuddling you like you were going to run away any second.

"oh."

"what?"

"nothing." you shake your head, chewing.

"no really, what?" he presses, leaning on the counter towards you.

"well...i mean i wouldn't have a trouble if you slept in the same bed, it's not like we haven't done it before."

"that was a long time ago." he says but the fact you remembered fills him up with glee. so your mind hasn't been completely infiltrated with his so called best friend, you still think of armin.

"yeah but we were really close before...you know. i'm sure—"

"before what?" he asks, forcing the confusion to appear on his face even though he knows exactly what you're talking about.

you fidget, "before you started to distance yourself." you sigh, perhaps growing a bit agitated under his intense gaze.

"hmm." he hums. "well, studies and all that, you know how it is. but i'm sure you found plenty of people to fill in that hole i left behind."

you raise an eyebrow, "well...i wouldn't—"

"did you miss me, though y/n?" he places his hand under his chin, staring at you. "you walked into my room like it was second nature, snuggled right into my bed like it was home. it was pretty cute."

you nibble on your bottom lip, "i'm sorry about that. gosh, that's so embarrassing."

"answer the question." he urges, tone being a little bit more stern then he intended.

your eyes widen for a moment, "yeah—uh i missed you. didn't you miss me?" you ask shyly.

a far contrast from the moans that were leaving your lips last night. "of course i missed you." he nods. "you, me and historia were such a tight nip group back then. but then college came around and things changed. we changed, didn't we?"

"yeah, i guess."

"you never used to go to parties before and now look at you, stumbling in at three am like some drunkard. makes me wonder what else you've been up to." he continues nonchalantly, plucking a berry into his mouth.

you lick your lips, hands clenching around the fork. a few seconds pass by before you let out a laugh meant to lighten the mood, "i almost forgot how intense you can be, geez lighten up armin. your stare is practically boring into me." you play with the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to hide your discomfort.

discomfort. he doesn't want you to feel that around him. he'll have to change that, make you see his behavior is only intended to help you. protect you from the evils in the world because you're simply too native to notice them. "and i didn't even wanna go to that party in the first place. i suggested star gazing but historia called it dumb."

"of course she did, her idea of a good time is getting so drunk she could faint." he rolls his eyes. "anyways. speaking of change, did you talk to eren last night?"

you almost choke on the pancake, quickly putting the fork down so you can grab the glass of water and gulp it down. "n-no! why would i speak to eren? i barely know the guy."

you've always been a bad liar—always overexaggerating everything.

"just wondering. i haven't been able to get a hold of him. mikasa wants to speak to him."

"mikasa? why?" that certainly piques your curiosity.

"well, they are best friends and he left campus without telling her where he was going apparently. she's at her hometown with her parents and is worried sick."

"can’t you be the messenger or something?”

he clicks his tongue, walking over and sitting next to you. "i'm not sure this message can be passed down through me." he smiles, making sure your thighs are touching.

"why not?" you ask timidly, as if afraid for his answer.

"well, i'm sure you know about how...special their relationship is. right before we left for break, eren told me he was planning on confessing his feelings for her when we got back and then she just texted me saying—"

"what?" your lips form into a frown, doe eyes filled with confusion. it's so cute. so naive and cute. "eren likes her?"

"of course he likes her silly, everyone knows those two are head over heels for each other. practically in a relationship already. it'll be so cute when we get back to campus and see them finally get together, don't you think so? their bond is truly something remarkable."

you stay silent, eyes staring down at your pancakes. do you actually like him? armin refrains from a scoff, how could you be so dumb to fall for someone like eren? "what's wrong? you look like you've seen a ghost."

"f-fine."

he nods, hand going to touch the syrup in the corner of your lips. you look surprised for a second as his tongue darts out to lick his finger. "we'll be spending two whole months in this house together." he changes the subject, having accomplished what he wanted to do. he doubts the eren situation is over yet but he has all the time to permanently destroy it. and he will.

"don't we think we should rekindle the friendship? it's gonna be awkward if we continue ignoring each other."

"you're the one who ignored me." you murmur.

"i wanna fix that, i'm sorry y/n. i'm sure we can go back to where we left off, hmm?" he lean down so your faces are closer together, your eyes widening at that the movement. "would you like that?"

it looks like you're nodding before you can even register what he's saying. you've always been like that. so compliant. it used to be adorable but now all he can think about is how eren used that submissiveness and naivety to sink his claws into you. no one can be trusted around you. only armin.

"y—yeah." you smile, sullen mood from the news he just delivered temporarily gone. "i've missed you a lot."

"i've missed you too."

"what's this?" you ask as you walk into the living room a few hours later, granola bar in hand. still wearing his hoodie.

"a fort?"

"i can see it's a fort, but why?" you walk over to the sofa, plopping down on it.

"we used to make these all the time in high school, and since we're going to be friends again. don't you think—"

"so a fort?" you hum. "you usually hated when we made these, always calling it childish."

"well..." he steps towards the coffee table, picking up the miniature planetarium he stashed in his closet a few years ago. "you said you wanted to go stargazing so—"

"so you brought the stars to me?" your tone isn't mocking but you do chuckle a bit. "i don't know if that's sweet or just—"

"i think it's sweet." he grins, walking towards you. "so what do you think?" he gestures towards the fort. he didn't spent the last fifteen minutes moving furniture and gathering almost all pillows, sheets and cushions in the house for this for you to reject his offer. he needs to see you with that look in your eyes, looking at the stars with admiration. he misses it. the last sight in his mind is of you at that party, eyes gleamed over with lust and that hammered look. it plays over and over again and he's sick of it.

"sure." you beam, not waiting for him to make the first move as you crawl into the fort. the sanctuary he made for just the two of you.

he goes in after you, thighs touching yours as you sit next to each other. he made the insides small on purpose, just so he could feel you. he turns the projector on and you both watch as the speckles of light start to form on the sheets.

"whoa." you mutter to yourself, entrapped by the glowing of the luminescent blues and purples. "you really did all this for me?" you ask, nibbling on your bottom lip.

"wouldn't be the first time i went all out for you." he moves closer to you, breathing fanning on your face. "i'd do anything for you y/n, i thought you knew that already."

you're his. he should do whatever it takes to care of what's his.

you stare at him, a definite picture of of purity with those big mesmerizing eyes. your mouth gapes open trying to come up with a response but nothing comes out. armin watches a bead of sweat trail down your forehead, it's almost scorching in here. he knows it would've happen in this summer heat so he slowly picks up the mini electric. "hot?"

"w-what about you?" you ask, visibly swallowing a lump in your throat.

he hesitates. c'mon armin. just be a man. so he wraps his hand around your waist and you recoil in surprise as he brings you into his lap so the fan is on both of your bodies. you place your hand on his thighs, squirming to get into a comfortable position. "a-armin..." you laugh, it's awkward. you're trying to ease the tension but he doesn't want that, he just wants to be near you, consequences be damned.

he's usually smarter than this. smarter than acting before he thinks but that night won’t stop haunting him so he smiles as he leans his chin on your shoulder. "what? am i making you uncomfortable?"

"w—well no but...it's just very sudden. you were acting as if i didn't exist just a few days ago and you're now—"

"i just wanted to touch you y/n. it's been years without your touch." he whispers, resisting the urge to nibble on your earlobe. "didn't you miss me? miss my touches?" he asks innocently, wrapping both his hands around your waist to pull you closer. your back is flushed against his chest, ass directly on his crotch and it takes a lot of will power not to get a hard on.

"i did." you nod eagerly. "of course i did."

"so let me treat you for all those times i missed."

"okay." you say, seemingly without thinking.

"wanna get some barbecue tomorrow ?"

"i have to meet my parents. y'know, getting yelled at for my major. the usual."

he frowns. "they're still mad about that? you should talk to them."

"you know they never listen to me." you squirm again on his lap but abruptly stops as you realize where exactly you're sitting. "it's fine, i barely talk to them anyways. i'm sure they'll finally get over it once i graduate."

he should comfort you, say something along the lines of they'll come around or don't worry but instead what comes out is none of those. "you don't need them." he rustles against you. "i'll always support you y/n. like i always have"

even if you weren't aware, he was mostly always in the shadows and making sure you got everything you wanted. "well, they are my parents."

"they've never cared enough to listen to you, to see you." his tone changes, voice low now as more sweat beads down his forehead. "none of them have, have they?"

"i—i...i'm sure—"

"historia doesn't see you? does she? she says she's your best friend but she treats you like a lackey y/n. isn't that infuriating?"

you scoff, "that's not true." you go to get off his lap but he tightens his hold on you. he just needs to say this.

"is that why she rejected your offer of stargazing? why she always made fun of your outfit choices back in high school? she was always jealous of you, don't you see that? you're better than that, better than all of them." every single one.

he wishes he could see your face but he settles for this, just for this simple touch. "i don't know what you want me to say to that, armin." you breath out.

"i want you to see your worth, y/n. you deserve better than all of this. don't you think so? you deserve the world." he can't help himself as he leans into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

you're not creeped out, or at least you're not attempting to get up anymore. "and what, you can give me that? is that what you're saying?"

he wasn't meant to have this type of conversation right now, it was just supposed to be a nice evening of laying down in this fort. but he saw an opportunity and why not take it?

"you know i can." he answers. "you know i'd do anything for you."

you turn your head slightly, looking at him. "really?" you question. "anything?" you sound intrigued and he swears you're leaning in, it's not his imagination right? you really are.

but before your lips can even brush against each other, historia's screeching voice booms in the living room. "y/n! it's time to get ready."

you quickly get off, almost throwing yourself to the ground as you scoff awkwardly. as if being knocked out of a trance. you don't even spare armin a glance as you crawl out.

get ready for what?

"another party?" armin leans on the doorway frame, watching his sister apply her makeup. "you two went to one just last night—and halloween themed? it's the middle of summer."

"that's what makes it fun!" she smiles, putting the blush down and standing up. she decided to go as a cat. or at least, he thinks it's a cat. drawn on whiskers with an ear headset, a damn tail, short dress with long fishnets.

she looks like a whore. she's been acting like a whore ever since summer started and he realizes maybe that's why you’re acting so different. you live near each other in the dorms and historia must be rubbing off of you.

he tries and keeps his outrage down as historia gets up, walking towards the door. "we'll be back at twelve...hopefully."

"no, you'll be back at twelve." he grits his teeth. "you'll get drunk like an idiot dear sister, and leave y/n all alone at some strangers house. again."

she blushes, offended at the assumption. "you're the one who brought me home last night, why are you blaming it on—"

"would mother appreciate this? you dressed up like a skank and going to a party two nights in a row?"

he shouldn't be saying this. it's not in his character and it's obvious historia is completely staggered at his behavior. "she's barely home and i doubt she cares what i do at night. unlike you, i haven't made it my life to be the perfect—"

"but i care." he's walking towards her before he can stop himself. "i care about the way you're treating y/n. dragging her to parties, getting her drunk so assholes can take advantage then leaving her high and dry. you're a bad influence, dear sister and it's truly annoying seeing you trying to turn her into some gross replica of you. she's not like that, she's not tainted like you. she's pure and i won't let—"

"you're hurting me jackass!" she whimpers and it's only then armin realizes he's seized her wrist, digging his nails into the skin.

he quickly lets go, clearing his throat. "sorry, just stressed from school."

the annoyance is clear in her eyes along with the rage but armin notices something else...a hint of fear? he scared her? fucking great. watch as she goes and rants to mother about her asshole of an older brother resulting in talks he definitely doesn't want to have.

"if you're so worried about y/n, come to the party like you did last night. keep an eye on your precious doll." she scoffs, shoving him away so she can step out the door, rubbing at her wrist.

that's not a total bad idea. it's a perfect way to get closer to you without seeming like a total creep plus he can keep eren and his greedy claws away. he quickly walks towards your door, knocking once before you're opening. his mouth nearly gapes open at the sight of you, how is it always possible for him to be blown away by your beauty every time he sees you? you're dressed in a short white dress, wearing a halo headset with wings.

an angel? fitting. very very fitting.

"you like it?" you grab the ends of the dress, showing it off. he notices you try very hard to not look at him in the eyes. "couldn't decide between a bride or angel. historia wanted me to go as a sexy nurse but i didn't really have—"

"gorgeous. you look gorgeous." it flows out of his tongue so smoothly it has the both of you tensing up.

"really?" you quirk an eyebrow, clearing your throat and finally looking at him. it feels so damn awkward—at least to you but you try to act normal nonetheless. "i expected a swarm of insults, you hate things like that."

"do i think having a halloween themed party in the middle of summer is completely and utterly idiotic? yes. but it doesn't deter from your blinding beauty."

a shy smile gathers on your face, "uh...thanks."

"ready to go? i'm driving.”

your eyes widen, "you? going to a party twice in a row? going to a party at all? are you okay?" your hand is quickly going to touch his forehead before he can comprehend what's going on. his cheeks immediately blaze red, taking a quick step back.

you take your hand away, letting out an uneasy laugh. "it's just a tough armin, not like i was going to stab you or something."

"i know—"

"you say you want our friendship back but you act like this...it's weird." you huff. "you've been acting weird ever since we left for college, no—you've been acting like an ass and i've let it go but this summer means a lot to me. i'm finally having fun for once in my life and i don't need you to come in and confusing me and—and what the hell was that fort—"

"i was just surprised!" he cuts off, tone more urgent than he wants it to be. "i do want us to be friends again!" he deliberately ignores the fort question.

he just wasn't prepared for the feeling of your skin against his in that moment. it’s usually him initiating the touches, not the other way around. he swallows the lump in his throat, quickly taking your hand in his. "i didn't mean to insult you. of course i want your touch, who wouldn't want it? you're—" he stops talking. stop it. stop it. he's babbling. "let's just go."

you nod, smiling again. at least you're not creeped out by his behavior.

the party is boring. it's only been an hour and he's bored out of his damn mind. other than drunk girls coming up to him and asking him what's he's supposed to be even though it's pretty freaking obvious he's not wearing a costume—the random loud shouting as someone starts taking shots is enough to drive him out of his mind.

but at least you're here.

he's made sure to keep an eye on you the second you guys got here. you've mostly been outside on the patio, drinking punch as you dance with some friends. he occasionally touches his lips, thinking of how close they were to yours in that fort. the way you looked at him was filled with...well you definitely didn't look at eren like that last night. speaking of the devil— "eren." he smiles tightly as his friend sits next to him on the sofa. "vampire?" he asks, eyeing his costume.

"is that alcohol?" he looks at the cup in armin's hand. "i need to get drunk immediately."

"it's water."

"water. of course it's water." he chuckles. "what else do i expect from mr goody two shoes?"

armin rolls his eyes, "why are you so desperate to find a way to act like even more of an idiot?" he mutters as if there aren't piles of cups around them, not to mention the cases of beer he's sure are in the fridge.

"nothing." he groans, leaning against the couch. "it's a party. getting drunk is what you're supposed to do."

"hmmm." he hums. "just thought it had to do with something else."

"like what?"

"well...i saw you and y/n the other night, getting it on."

"please never say getting it on ever again." he grins, sitting back up.

he's grinning...as if he didn't just commit a great sin against armin. didn't put his hands on armin's girl, didn't...he grits his teeth. how can he act so careless? as if he had any right to do what he did last night?

"do you like her?"

eren arches an eyebrow, looking at him. "what's it to you?"

"you don't do relationships. you hump and dump and y/n and i are very close. i don't want her becoming one of your victims."

"that's none of your business." he scoffs.

"just answer the question." his eyes bore into the others, clenching the cup in his hand to the point the liquid is overflowing onto his lap but he could care less. "cause if so, that's really pathetic. she always expresses how much of a idiot you are, it's funny really. how she had to be drunk to finally sleep with you."

"she wasn't drunk." he says through gritted teeth. "we were both a little tipsy but not drunk enough to—"

"why are you even doing this with her? she doesn't like you."

"again. it's none of your business." eren deadpans. "what's wrong with you tonight? we're both—"

"you're right." armin sighs, letting out an exaggerated laugh like he's just realized how crazy he sounds. even though he knows he’s acting perfectly sane right now, who wouldn’t be mad if they discovered what armin did? "i'm being weird, i'm just really protective of y/n. she's like family to me, you know that."

eren bites his lip, still a bit tense but nods nonetheless. "i'm not doing anything...like that with her. i genuinely wanna see where things go."

oh.

he's not sure which answer would've been better but he shakes his head okay, licking his now dry lips. "wanna get drunk on the roof? just like we used to?"

"you mean i got drunk and you sat there, silently judging me." eren corrects, anxious atmosphere from before now gone. armin likes that about him. quick to forget and never holds grudges. "but sure, i'll get the beer."

"i have to go pee, see you on the roof." he salutes before eren walks into the kitchen. his eyes instantly travel towards you, feet dragging themselves towards the patio before he can stop.

he just wants to ask if you're okay before he departs, see if you don't need any assistance. you're surrounded by people...but it's people he doesn't trust. he doesn't trust anyone with you. for good reasons. before he can walk further to tap your shoulder, he hears the conversation you're having with abby—he thinks that's her name.

she's been over for sleepovers many times. never really liked armin, that's for sure. he's heard her call him fake at least two times, saying someone can't actually be that nice or perfect. fucking abby. why is she talking to you? he should've gotten rid of her long ago, sabotaged the friendship as soon as he realized her bad influence.

"just ask him out!" he hears her squeal. "literally, what are you waiting for? he's so hot."

something tells him she's not fangirling like this over armin.

"it's just...it's gonna be awkward!" you sigh, leaning against the wall. see? you can make good choices all by yourself, it's the people around your corrupting you. warping your thoughts until they're no longer your own. "he's armin's best friend and—"

"ugh! who cares about that boring walking encyclopedia!" abby groans heavily. "eren is probably the most popular guy on campus, have you seen those abs? ask him out or i will!" she laughs and armin knows she's not joking.

"he's not...boring." you mutter. "he's actually a pretty cool guy and—"

"you're probably the only one who thinks that." she rolls her eyes.

she interrupted you again. why is she always interrupting you? and why do you never speak up on it?

"ask eren out! c'mon, who cares about what armin thinks? his head is too busy being buried in books to notice anyone else regardless." she shakes your hand frantically.

you squirm, slowly nodding. "maybe. i might. eren doesn't seem to be totally av—"

"gotta go pee." she lets go of your hand. "drank way too much beer."

"want me to go with you?"

you're so nice. why are you so nice?"

"no, it's fine. it'll only take two seconds." she smiles, walking back inside. armin already made himself scarce the second she turned around, watching her walk up the stairs.

he should just go to the roof, talk to eren...but it seems eren isn't the only one standing in the way of his relationship with you. everyone wants to jeopardize it and he's had enough. so he's walking upstairs, not second guessing himself as he makes his way to the bathroom. he's been to this mansion many times before, his mother always having dinner with the owner of it to get into their good graces.

it doesn't take long before he finds it, the hallway is empty and he can hear abby inside. giggling nonsense to herself as she pees. she's drunk. probably wouldn't even remember his face.

he's not sure what he exactly plans to do but the second the door opens, he's immediately shoving her back inside. hands going to rest against her throat and mouth. fuck, he should've thought this through but all he can see right now is blind fury. people keep trying to tear you two apart and it's fucking with his brain. makes him so furious he just wants to punch everything in sight.

abby is screeching, trying to get out of his grip but she's a petite girl. barely weighing a hundred pounds. her back is to his chest and he prays she won't recognize him by the sound of his voice but even if she did...who cares? no one would believe her anyways. so he chuckles, not bothering to mask his voice.

"why do you keep getting in my way abby?" he sighs, applying a bit more pressure to her throat to which she whimpers at. "i don't want to hurt you so let this be a warning, hmm? stay away from y/n. never talk to her again, don't even think about her. that friendship is dead as of tonight? don't you think so?"

she only whimpers louder, trying to free herself so he applies even more pressure. she's now choking, little gasps trying to come out. "you're all trying to ruin her, it's so fucking annoying. just away, okay? it's simple enough, right? i'm going to let go now, don't turn around, don't scream unless you want me to break your windpipe? do you want that, abby?"

he's not sure he even knows how to break a damn windpipe, at least not yet but she doesn't know that. she nods frantically, tears flowing down her cheeks and onto armin's fingers. "great, now run away. all the way home." he lets her go and she doesn't need to be told twice as she bolts out of the room.

well, that was easy. he refrains from laughing as he leans on the doorway. she was all bark and no fight. always insulting armin but suddenly turning into a pathetic, sniveling bitch once he actually does something in retaliation.

he's feeling confident tonight, smiling ear to ear as he walks towards an open bedroom. the balcony door is wide open and he steps out onto it. climbing onto the roof doesn't take much effort, he's been doing it with eren for years.

speaking of eren.

another problem he needs to fix.

getting eren drunk isn't a hard thing to do. it only took a few minutes on the roof before he was slurring his speech. fortunately armin got them both back down on the balcony before the other could gravely injure himself.

injuring his best friend badly isn't on his to do list. at least physically. eren grips his forearm as armin lays him down on a random chair, the summer air causing eren's hair to flow around.

he understands why y/n is so smitten, he guesses. he's a pretty good looking guy. but so is armin. isn't he? he got rid of that haircut he would always get teased for, went to the gym a few nights and developed actual abs, don’t girls love abs...so why him? is it because he's popular? maybe cause he didn't wait eons to make a move like armin is currently doing.

whatever.

soon enough, he's going to be out of the equation.

eren's too inebriated to even realize where he is. this won't be hard, not one bit. "eren." armin sings. "i dare you to punch that railing." he leans against said railing, watching eren's sluggish movements as he stands up.

he's a jock, they love stupid dares. especially when they're drunk. eren scoffs in disbelief, offended armin even had to dare him. like he would've done it regardless. "easy."

"you sure you won't hurt yourself?" at least too badly.

he rolls his eyes and before armin can blink, his knuckles are slamming into the railing. he actually did it. why are jocks so easy? "that was so weak." armin challenges. "lame."

eren punches it again without saying anything, then again and again and armin has to hold him back and push him back on the chair before he's breaking his own bones. he examines his knuckles, bruised and bloodied. just like he wanted them. "h..how was that? cool right?" he slurs, smiling happily to himself.

admin nods, "very cool. now go to sleep." he hums lightly, patting the others head again until he's snuggling into the chair.

armin waits a few minutes until he's sure eren's finally sleeping. he walks towards the wall, letting out a few puffs to brace himself. he's doing all this for you. it'll be fine. he can do it.

he doesn't allow himself to think twice before he's slamming his forehead into the wall. fuck. fuck that hurts. but he can do it. it's for y/n. it's for their relationship. he can do it. so he does it again, and again until blood is dripping down his face.

fucking hell, it hurts.

he winces as he takes out his phone, wiping the blood on the wall with the sleeve of his sweater. he dials your number and you answer on the first ring. so perfect. so damn perfect.

"hey! where'd you disappear to?" your chirpy voice says on the other line.

"y/n." he makes sure to add emphasis on his voice, "c-can you come upstairs to the balcony? second bedroom on your right."

"uh...sure. are you okay?"

he decides to hang up at that, you're coming so there's no reason to continue talking. dots start to form in his eyes, he should've expected that. slamming your head repeatedly onto a wall will do that to someone.

you arrive not twenty seconds later, hurrying up into the room and gasping once you see the sight of him. "oh my gosh!" you rush over, placing a hand on his shoulder as your examine his face. "what ha—" it's then that you notice a sleeping eren in the seat next to you two.

and normally you wouldn't even jump to such a conclusion but with the way eren's knuckle is bruised...armin left little to be assumed. "don't tell me..." you trail off, eyes widening with disbelief as you look between the two of them.

"it's fine." armin breaths out, squinting his eyes shut at the pain. "he—he must've gotten too drunk and—it's fine."

"it's not fine!" you exclaim. "he...oh gosh why would he do that?"

he stands up from the seat he's been leaning against. "he was drunk, he wasn't thinking straight. it's my fault for mentioning mikasa knowing how—"

"mikasa?" your voice is so meek it has him finally looking at you. you look hurt, like a wounded little deer and although it pains him—he's only doing this to help you. you'll see it soon enough.

"yeah, all i did was mention how if he doesn't hurry and man up, she'll be swept away by some other guy on campus. you know how mikasa is, everyone loves her and i guess he got too mad. my fault for messing with true love." he chuckles, trying to lighten to the atmosphere. "sorry, that last part was cheesy but truly i'm—are you okay?"

your bottom lip is sucked in between your teeth anxiously, slight tears forming in your eyes. "f-fine."

"are my injuries really making you cry? wow, didn't know you cared so much."

he tries not to think about the fact you're actually crying over eren. fucking eren.

you let out a forced laugh, "y-yeah." you sniff. "let's get you home. him too."

"is he usually so...violent?" you ask once you two are in the car, driving eren home. "and don't you need stitches for that or something?"

"not usually so violent. i only see him get so worked up when it's something he's truly passionate about."

"...right."

"and for the stitches part? i don't think so." at least he hopes not.

you nod.

"he's my best friend, i'm not sure he didn't mean to do it."

"he still hurt you though, that's messed up." you look at him, frown visible on your face. "your face is too adorable to get a fist punched into it."

"adorable?" he gasps, making a turn. "i'm hot. i'd like to think i stopped being adorable right when i entered college."

you laugh, "yeah. i guess."

"you guess what?" he asks, teasing smile on his face.

you smile, "you're...hot. there? did i boost your ego enough?"

"you have no idea, angel."

you're taken back by the pet-name but then realize it probably has to do with your outfit as you lean back onto the chair, staring at the passing houses.

eren's cozy in his bed a couple minutes later, snuggling into the pillows. "wonder what he's gonna feel when he wakes up knowing he beat the crap out of his best friend." you murmur, watching him on the bed.

"he did not beat the crap out of me!" armin scoffs, defensively. you giggle, "those bruises look pretty serious to me."

"doesn't mean he beat the crap out of me! it's just harmless bruises."

"sure, whatever helps you sleep at night."

he walks closer to you, "he really didn't. unless you haven't noticed, i've grown from that scrawny boy a years back. i can handle a fight."

"yeah, i've noticed but eren goes to the gym like a million times a day—"

"but did eren take a year of marital arts?" he counters.

"the dude is built like a bodybuilder, i doubt he needs marital arts."

"that's where you're wrong, dear y/n. brains win over brawn anytime."

"except for tonight." you say, mischievous glint in your eyes.

he blows air out through his lips in disbelief and it's only when he sees you squint at the movement that he realizes how close they are together. so close that all he needs to do is lean in a few inches and your lips are touching. should he? you're watching him intensely, like you also want to know what his next move is.

do you want him to? he doesn't know. he planned much more experiences to get you to realize he's the one for you. he doesn't want your first kiss with him to be in eren's bedroom, of all places. but maybe a petty part of him does want that. a way of getting back at eren for what he did. for almost taking you away from armin.

your eyes flicker up, staring at him before flicking back down to his lips. it seems you want to make the first move as your lips brush against his and armin has to will himself to not fall down because his knees feel like they're going to give out any second. holy...is this really happening? he's been waiting for this his entire life. for you to finally...fuck, your fingers idly play with the buttons of his shirt before you're deepening the kiss.

he doesn't know why but he pulls away, "why should i kiss you y/n?" he asks, voice teasing yet stern at the same time.

your body heats up from embarrassment, "i—don't you like me? the fort—"

"do i like you?" he could almost scoff at the stupid question. "do you like me?"

you look up at him, stumbling for words to say to that. you look like he's just asked you to commit murder, biting harshly on your bottom lip before breathing out. "y-yes." your voice is so timid. "i've always liked you."

oh?

oh.

"and yet you were under eren like a whore the entire night." he's not sure why he allowed that to come out but he did. you inhale sharply, quickly shaking your head. "n—no. i—"

"what? it's not like you two tried to hide it. with the way you were giggling, the way you were moaning his name."

"you saw that?"

"of course i did. how can i kiss you when you've been with eren? moaning his name, crying for him to go deeper. do you you think you deserve my kiss, y/n?" he keeps his face impassive but he's filled with glee on the inside. at the humiliation on your face, the guilt.

"i-i'm sorry!" you stammer. "i s-slept with him and i...i admit i do like him but it's clear he doesn't feel the same way an—"

"so what? i'm just a second resort?"

"no!" you quickly deny. "i've liked you for so long, armin but you've made it clear you didn't want this friendship to continue. and after this morning...and tonight i don't want to let more years pass by before i confess my feelings a—i'm sorry for what i did with eren—i really...i'm sorry." your eyelashes have tears on them, fingers digging into his shirt as you try not to full on break down.

it's so adorable. you've always been a crybaby. "i probably don't deserve it but...please...please kiss me." your bottom lip trembles.

"well go on, kiss me." he wanted to tease more, have you grovel and beg but how can he? when you're looking so desperate for just one kiss.

have you really? always liked him? has he been so blind to not notice? fucking idiot. so you have always been on the right track, you've always known what you wanted. it's others who stopped you from achieving what you truly wanted. others and armin's stupid decisions.

he allows you to lean in, your nails almost digging into his cheeks as you kiss him. he instantly wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. you tilt your head to the side to get a better angle, and just as your tongues meet, armin pulls out again which elicits a whimper from you. "what..."

he grabs your jaw harshly, fingertips digging into the sides as he forces you to open your mouth. you look so pretty like this for him. dressed in white with a damn halo over your head as you look at him with that expression on your face. eyes just begging for you to be fucked. he doesn't think as he spits in your mouth and you whimper but don't protest.

he lets go and you swallow without a second thought, eyes focused on him. he can see why eren was so rough that night, you're just asking for it. "you let him fuck you, y/n. let him touch you."

should he even be acting so possessive right now? he should save that for later, when he's wired the fact you belong to him and only him into your brain. but that look in your eyes...it seems you already know. and his cock twitches at the possibility. do you? do you already know who you belong to y/n?

he drags you back until your back bumps against the dresser, his hand grabs your cunt which is practically aching for him already. "you let him touch this. this which belongs to me." he says into your ear and you whimper, clenching his shirt.

"s—sorry, p—lease please i'm so—nngh!" armin pinches your clit, mercilessly digging his fingers into the sensitive bud.

"who does this belong to?"

slick is already forming, coating his fingers. tears gather in your eyes, "y-you."

it's like fireworks went off inside of him, like he's finally seeing the light after years and years of pining. you do know. you know that every inch of you belongs to him, that you weren't made for anyone else. you were made for him. only him.

you shiver as his lips plant soft kisses on your chest, his hand gripping your hip. those hips he's always had too many fantasies about to count. he bites down, wanting everyone to see his marks on you. to see who you belong to. his teeth nip on your chest, jaw, chin, neck—anywhere he can leave marks.

he just wants to make you feel good, so good you forget about all your other past partners. he roughly turns you around so you can see yourself in the mirror behind you, your hands lean on the dresser, a dazed look already in your eyes. "you don't care that he's here?" armin whispers.

you shake your head, "i don't. please armin, fuck me."

you let out a wonderful moan as he pulls your dress up, ripping your panties and throwing them on the ground. he dives a finger inside of your needy cunt, "fuck!" you whimper.

"does it hurt?" he mocks. he doubts it does. not with the way you're trembling with pleasure under his touch. "i'm sorry angel but you don't deserve lube. not after everything you put me through me."

you nod helplessly, not even disagreeing with his words. "i'm so sorry." tears fall down your cheeks, eyes looking back into his through the mirror.

you're so weak for his touch and it's so gratifying. it's all he's ever wanted. "you're so pretty, so tight just for me." he inserts another finger, curling them until your legs start shaking under your own weight. he holds you up, teeth grazing your neck and peppering kisses on your back.

it's so hot. everything feels so hot as the moans travel out of your lips, the sound of his fingers inside of you followed by your high pitched whining. it's almost too much. eren is right there and although he's not waking up anytime soon, it's just...fuck. it takes another finger before you're spilling onto his hand, guttural moan escaping your lips as you almost fall down.

he smiles in ecstasy, bringing his fingers to his lips and shamelessly licking every single white spot he finds on them. why would he be ashamed? he's been waiting for this his entire life. this is all he could ever ask for. "it tastes just like candy." he grins near your ear.

you shiver, "please...please fuck me."

he doesn't allow himself any more stalling, he's gonna have the rest of your lives together to taste and tease you. right now, all he wants to do is sink into that tight heat. so he does. and you both moan at the feeling. it's so hot, taking it in like armin's cock was always meant to be there. and it was, wasn't it?

"fuck..." he grips your hips, starting to thrust up. the arousal eating him up.

"so—big." you choke out as he starts to fill you up all the way. "feels so good..." you grip his cock so perfectly. everything you do is so perfect.

he starts to thrust harder once you've adjusted, not sparing any time as he pounds into you. the items on the dresser start to shake, moving around but none of you care enough. skin slaps against skin, his fingers clench your hips while yours dig into the dresser. he grins at the way your mouth falls open, tongue lolling around as you're helpless to way he's drilling into you.

you love this. it's so evident on your face. you love the fact it's armin behind you, the fact it's him inside of you right now. you didn't even ask for a condom...fuck how perfect would that be? you filled up with his babies. he could almost cum just at the thought.

but he doesn't. instead he increases his pace, fucking you eagerly. "wanted this for so long. fuck, you're so tight. feels so good. you're so perfect. so so perfect."

you let out a wet sob, whether at his actions or words—he doesn't know but he relishes the sound. "you like that y/n? being pounded into like you're nothing? while the guy you claim to like sleeps not even five feet away? it's pathetic." he chuckles.

and he's not usually so mean. he won't be during your other sexual activities. no he'll treat you like a princess, like the perfect angel you are. but right now, he's angry. and you need to know your place.

"suh—sorry." you cry out. "won't do it again. so sorry." you shake your head, grinding your ass back to meet his thrusts.

you throw your head back, mouth parted and begging for a kiss to which armin gives. your tongues meet, swirling around together as he licks into your perfect mouth. you two moan into each others mouths as armin continues his pace and—fuck he has to almost slap himself for being an idiot and not doing this sooner as he brings his hand around to cup your right breast, clenching it tightly and you moan deliciously at the contact.

he grips it as your tongue goes to lick his teeth, licking anything really. you're so needy. just as needy as him. your moans get even louder and he's thankful eren's parents are out on some business trip cause he's pretty sure the entire neighborhood can hear you right now. "so—ah! so good armin. you make me feel so good." you say, voice airy. "please fill me up, please i want your cum."

he's pretty sure those exact words are the reason for the orgasm that happens not two seconds later. he grips your waist tightly, cock deep inside as he empties everything in you. you practically scream, legs shaking as armin continues to grind into you. making you feel every single inch of him. because it all belongs to you.

"so perfect." he pants, resting his sweaty forehead on your back. "so perfect."

would now be a good time to say he loves you?

you’re avoiding him.

at first he just thought you were just a bit shy considering the circumstances, you two were close friends then went through a period of barely speaking to each other for months only for him to end up fucking you in someone else’s bedroom.

so he gave you time to process all of that but it’s been two weeks...how much more time do you need? the first week he tried to stay calm but now it’s getting too much, the last time he gave you space you two didn’t speak for so long. that was his fault and he won’t make it again, he can’t go through that again. not after finally having a taste of you.

he sighs deeply, digging his fingers under the pillow and taking out the pink lace bra he took out of your drawer the other day. he just misses you too much. it feels like he can’t breath whenever you awkwardly walk out of a room once you see him, how you deliberately ignore his unwavering gaze, how you haven’t said even a single word to him.

it fills him up with anxiety and he needs to find a way to release somehow so he shamelessly acquired this piece of material. it’s not like he’s committed some crime, he just needed to find a way to be near you. to feel you again.

he wishes he could see it on you, maybe he’ll ask you to keep it on next time you two make love again. his hand was under his sweatpants the second he felt himself harden, quickly tugging on his length until he was panting into the pillow. “y/n...” he moans.

he needs you. needs to taste you, touch your soft skin and feel it under his fingertips. needs to hear your moans, see your scrunched up eyebrows and dazed out eyes as he pounds into you...fuck you’d be clawing at his shoulders just like that night. you’d be so tight as sweat drips down both of your bodies.

he grips his cock tighter, toes curled and eyes shut tight as the bra is held to his chest. if only he could live between your legs forever, feeling your tight heat and hearing your pretty little sounds. he’d never want to leave.

you’ve been gone all day, barely been around the last two weeks and he had no idea how much his schedule depended on you being near. even when he was ignoring you, most of the things he did throughout the day consisted of taking care of you. making sure you got to your classes, took your morning jokes safely, how he used to watch you study in the library and so much more. but he didn’t even know where you were now, he had your entire routine memorized back on campus. it definitely isn’t the same now that school was temporarily over.

loneliness was creeping in. he doesn’t know what to do without you. it’s not like he could study to pass the time anymore. fuck. all he needed was one more tug before he was releasing all over his hand.

that was unsatisfactory. it’s not like the real thing. masturbating does nothing anymore once he’s actually been inside of you. he groans, frustration threatening to take him apart as he gets up and walks towards the bathroom. it only takes a few minutes before he’s cleaned up and changed his clothes, ready to go to sleep.

but then he hears something.

rustling outside, right under his window. then he hears your soft voice, uttering something he can’t quite hear. he walks closer to it, thankful he left it slightly open.

what he sees...is definitely not what he expected.

his fingers unconsciously clench the window handle, almost breaking his nails in the process as he watches eren—eren walking down the lawn and into the street.

he was...he was in your room? he didn’t hear the front door open and there’s no other way for eren to have walked in unless he climbed that tree next to the two rooms. why was he in your room?

armin tastes blood in his mouth, biting down on his tongue so harshly that his teeth pierced into it. while he was in here, agonizing over your absence—you were in there with him. doing who knows what.

well, it’s pretty obvious what you were up to as he watches the pep in eren’s steps.

fucking hell.

he thought he fixed that.

are the healing bruises in his face just...fuck why are you with him? he shakes his head, trying to calm down but it’s pointless at this rate. he should’ve done more, he would’ve done more but then you suddenly came onto him that night and he thought he had won. apparently not.

playing nice is pointless. it seems you like men like eren regardless of the crappy actions they do. what’s wrong with you?

he’s walking to your bedroom in the next second, fists clenching and unclenching. what’s wrong with you? he goes to knock but then scoffs bitterly before sharply opening the door, hearing the sound of it smacking against the wall.

you’re on your bed, gasping and eyes widening at the abrupt action and sound. “armin—what—”

you’re just wearing an oversized shirt...that is definitely not his. looks like eren’s old football jersey. fucking hell. what is wrong with you, y/n?

“are you serious?” he breathes out, nails digging into the flesh of his palms. “are you fucking serious?” he takes a step forward and you anxiously scoot back on the bed.

“what are you doing?” you ask like he’s in the wrong. like he’s the one acting like a little confusing, manipulative whore.

“why are you doing this to me, y/n?” he grits out. “why?”

“doing what?” you raise your voice a bit, pursing your lips. the look in your eyes tells him you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“what’s so special about him? please tell me cause i don’t understand. why’d you go back to him even after everything he did? he doesn’t even love you—not like i do, how many times do i have to say no one loves you like i do?” he’s in front of you in a second, hands clenching your shoulders and slightly shaking you.

“y-you’re acting weird, armin.” your bottom lip starts to quiver. “you’re scaring me.”

“i’m scaring you?” he laughs. “not the man who almost beat me to a pulp? but it’s me who scares you?”

“l-like you said—he was drunk so...so he didn’t mean to! he said he apologized—”

“that’s not the point!” he yells, startling you. your eyes are widen to the point they look like they’re going to fall out but he doesn’t care. what’s wrong with you? “he’s brash, rude, inconsiderate. he could care less about you and trust me the second summer is over, he’s ditching your ass for someone else and yet you still pin after him? is that what you like y/n? do you enjoy getting walked over like a damn doormat by everyone? your parents, historia, abby and now eren? what the fuck is wrong with you?”

tears are gathering in your eyes, you bring your hands up to his and push them off of your shoulders. “you’re being mean.”

“i thought you liked that? unless it’s coming from me right? you allow everyone else to treat you like crap then come crawling to me with tears in your damn eyes when you need a safety net.” he seethes. “everyone else can be jackasses, except for me. i always need to be your perfect little armin.”

“what is your problem?” you stand up, facing him. trying to appear strong when you both know it’s all an act. you can barely stand up for yourself without crying. “you’re the one who ignored me for—”

“not this crap again. you’re the one who came onto me that night, saying you’re mine, begging me to fuck you and then you suddenly ignore me and go right back to eren even after everything.” he throws his hands up in the air.

“i like eren.” you exhale shakily, seems like those three words were the only ones you were capable of forming at the moment.

“you said you liked me too, remember? how you always liked me—”

“i was drunk that night, armin.” it’s said so nonchalantly, like it’s the actual truth but he knows better. he was watching you most of the night and you didn’t even go near a cup of alcohol.

fuck, he wants nothing more than to grip and throw you on that bed. fuck into you like the slut you apparently are and hear your soft noises. but it seems—it seems you don’t want that from him. you want that from eren. you want eren to be the big bad wolf and for armin to be your safe sanctuary whenever things get too rough.

he doesn’t want that. he wants to be your everything.

why can’t you allow that?

“so, what? you don’t want me?”

if being rough won’t work then he can try an alternative. it doesn’t matter if it makes him look pathetic, he needs you.

and the pain he’s in right now is excruciating, blurring his vision with tears. “can’t you at least try then y/n?” he walks over, hands suddenly grasping your wrists. the hold was rigid, crushing and even he was surprised at the sheer force of it. like he was trying to break something. “you can try to want me, to love me? can’t you? is it that hard? after everything i’ve done for you, you want to just leave me behind in the dust? everything i’ve done means nothing to you?”

you whimper, shaking your head no. “t—that’s not it. i just—” tears start to trail down your face, tiny sobs filling the room. “it’s not you, it’s me.”

“really? that crap line—”

“it’s the truth!” you exclaim, facing him again. “i...i don’t deserve you, armin. being with people like eren is better because even when i screw up, it won’t matter. b-but if we do get together than i’ll just mess everything up and hurt you and then i’ll lose you and i don’t wanna—i don’t want to lose you. i can’t.” you babble.

he stares at you, shock written all over his face. and disbelief, pure disbelief. that’s what you’re scared of? “the only thing that’s hurting me is you being with eren. it’s fucking kill me, y/n.” he chokes out. “and how many times do i have to tell you that i’ll never leave.”

“you left before.” you say, voice barley above a whisper. “you just left me alone to face everything and then you get mad cause of my choices—”

“i’m sorry, i regret doing that. so, so much.” he cups your cheeks, finally letting go of your wrist and it’s only then does he see the slight bruises his grip left on your wrist. fuck, why do you look so pretty with his marks?

“but that was the last time. i’m never leaving you again. i love you y/n. you’re all i need and i’m all you need, okay?” he leans his forehead against yours, taking in your everything. “okay?”

“but you can’t see the future, what if—”

“no.” he snaps, voice filled with finality. the only way he’s ever going to be apart from you is if the claws of death try to sink their way into him and even then, he’d find a way back to you. he can’t be without you. not anymore. it’s not even an option. “i won’t. i promise. okay?”

you stay silent for a minute, tears still streaming down as you sniff. “okay.” you rest your face in the crook of his neck, gripping the collar of his shirt. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, please forgive me.” you sob.

that’s exactly what you said that night and you still went and betrayed him. and yes you cleared things up. he knows it was all because of insecure, self sabotaging thoughts that pierced their way into you but what if they come back? what if you do that again? he can’t see you with eren anymore, he won’t be able to control his actions if he does. he backs away, taking your jaw into his hand and staring at you.

“you won’t do that again, will you?” he’s not asking. the tone in his voice makes it clear committing something as atrocious as that isn’t even a possibility anymore.

you nod meekly, doe eyes staring into yours with a hint of fear but this time he doesn’t care. if a bit of fear will keep you from shattering his heart again, then he hopes it sticks forever.

“i won’t.” you smile timidly.

good.

he’s inside of you not ten minutes later, chest covering your back as he fondles your breast. leaving marks anywhere he can. you’re his. and he’ll make sure everyone knows it. teeth sinking into fragile flesh with no mercy and with the way you cry out, you don’t seem to mind.

you’re yelping with every thrust, fingers clenching the sheets and his end goal is take several rounds throughout the night, pound into you until you’re non verbal. barely able to even let out tiny whimpers. he wants you so fucked out that no other cock will fill you up the way he does. and most certainly not eren’s.

he can tell he’s close, quickly flipping you around so you’re straddling him now, hands wrapping around your neck as you cry out. he smirks at the sight in front of him, purple marks covering your body, tear filled eyes and uncontrollable noises of pleasure.

so perfect.

it’s all he’s ever wanted.

he grips your waist, pistons in and out to the point you’re screaming. does historia hear that? hears you scream for him, evidence you’re his now. not theirs anymore. they can’t control you anymore, can’t taint what he loves any longer. armin’s the only one for you.

“oh—oh fuck.” you sniff through the tears, bouncing on top of him. that lace bra snug on your chest. you wore it just for him, just cause he asked.

“do you love me?” he pants, grip tightening.

you nod dumbly, without a second thought. “i do...i love you. i love you so much, armin.”

“good.” he smiles. fucking fantastic.

“you belong to me, right? you don’t need them anymore? right?” he practically begs.

you whimper, staying silent a second too long so he angles this next thrust into your sweet spot

causing you to yelp. “y-yes! i’m yours, i don’t need them.” you confirm.

“you don’t need anyone but me.”

“i don’t need anyone but you.” you whine, leaning your head onto his. “and you don’t need anyone but me, r-right?”

what kind of question is that? of course he doesn’t need anyone else. he’s never needed anyone else. if he could burn the entire world down with you two as the only survivors, he would. he wants you to himself, wants you to only have him. forever and always.

“of course.”

#armin x reader #armin x you #armin x y/n #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #armin smut #yandere #yandere armin #toxic relationship #manipulative #absolute menace to edit so pls ignore any mistakes unless really major 😫

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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

Text

Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit.

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience.

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it.

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others.

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism.

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve.

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place.

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire.

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

#yandere #yandere oneshot #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yancore #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you

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ghoultramp · 4 years

Text

study buddies [sukuna x reader] {req}

▷ jjk

↳ pairing: sukuna x f!reader

↳ content: { request fic } - dom!sukuna, subby!reader, curvy&soft!reader, college!au, dubcon, choking, spitting, marking (biting, scratching), dacryphilia, degradation (?), breath play (?), a sprinkle of praise (as a treat), nicknames for reader (princess, babygirl)

↳ words: 4.7k

⇢ summary: sukuna’s a little fed up of yuji having you all the fun with you, so when yuji suggests you should take a break from studying, sukuna decides it’s the perfect opportunity to have a taste of yuji’s little princess.

also available on ao3

⇢ note: request for nemi; i’m so sorry it took so long to get around to this but i hope this makes up for the wait! a huge thank you for being my partner in crime on this and for some of the fantastic ideas you shared.

Yuji had been grumbling at his textbook for the better part of ten minutes before you peered over the top of yours. While he lay chest down on the floor, your legs were lazily propped over the small of his back. Your own back was supported by a pillow against your bed frame, comfortable enough, but you were starting to ache. Yuji wittered beneath his breath, he looked sweet when he tried to concentrate; his eyebrows furrowed and his nose wrinkled, but it was the way his tongue poked over his top lip that made you giggle.

“Stop,” he groaned, “this is hard.”

You cleared your throat as you closed your book, placing it on your lap.

“Which question is it now?” you asked, lifting your legs off him.

He grumbled incoherently, flipping the same page back and forth. You shook your head and shuffled next to him, straightening out your skirt as you brought your knees together to retain some modicum of decency. You leaned your weight against your left hand and softly patted Yuji’s head with the other.

“Uhm,” he mumbled, “still on the first one…?”

“Yuji-Kun,” you sighed, “have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

He looked at you through his peripheral vision while his mouth fought against a nervous smirk. You playfully tapped him against the side of the head. Yuji feigned injury, holding his head and rolling onto his back; you were trying so hard not to laugh as he rolled about, wailing dramatically.

“You’re such a baby,” you told him, throwing the textbook to the side.

You watched as he stopped and spread his limbs out like a starfish, he turned his head in your direction.

“Says the little Princess,” he retorted, he flashed a grin when your cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink.

He loved rendering your speechless with the utterance of a single word. To everyone on the outside, you and Yuji were this cute, Hallmark-movie, high-school sweetheart-type couple, barely even kissed, blushing at the sweet whispers you exchanged; how wrong they were.

Those sweet whispers that made you blush wildly were due to Yuji sharing with you his demands for you that evening—because you would always be his good Babygirl, his good little Princess. They would never see him grope you beneath the lecture hall desks, purposefully dragging you to the back. He’d ignore you as you cried into the sleeve of your sweater while his fingers fiddled with your sensitive little bud behind your underwear.

He rolled onto his side to prop his head up with his hand, you brought your hands up to cover your flushed cheeks.

“Hey,” he was trying not to laugh, finding your bashfulness absurdly loveable, “why don’t we take a break?”

A squeak escaped through the fingers of the hand that covered your mouth. Yuji awkwardly shifted onto his hands and knees, crawling toward you. When he sat up next to you, he swung his legs around to place them on either side of you; trapping you between him and the bed frame.

“Now who’s the baby?” he cooed, teasing you more by poking your hands playfully.

He laughed at your attempt to look annoyed, it was wasted. You resigned, watching as he began to lean into you, his hand pressed against the back of your head and his lips brushed against your ear.

“Or should I say,” his whisper was a low growl, “Babygirl?”

“Yuuuuuji,” you were whining as you squirmed between his legs, “you’re doing this on purpose.”

The warm breath expelled by his chuckle brushed against your neck. You felt the grip he held on the back of your head fall to your wrists, you didn’t fight him as he pulled your hands from your face. You knew he got off on how bashful you always were, and maybe you played into that a little, he felt the hot flush of your cheeks radiate against him.

He could devour you so easily.

You felt a thumb press hard against your chin, pushing your head right back. A pitiful laboured noise escaped your mouth, now pushing his palm against your throat. It wasn’t quite enough pressure to stop you from breathing, but enough to cause you discomfort. Enough to satisfy him. For the moment, at least.

“…ji,” you were fortunate enough to be able to squeeze the last syllable of his name.

Using his free hand, he kneaded at the delicious pudge of skin that poked out above your slightly-too-tight thigh-high socks. They were just a part of one of your many little uniforms reserved only for Yuji, and today was one of his favourites; a just-tight-enough shirt opened enough for your delicate, frilly lingerie—of his choosing, of course—to peek out, paired with a simple, pleated skirt.

You were ever so grateful when he lightened the pressure on your larynx, allowing you to urgently drag in a deep breath. But it was mere seconds before you were gasping and panting, succumbing to his will as his fingers pressed gently against the damp cotton of your panties.

“Finally,” you heard him say, the lowered tone of his voice triggered your flight response.

“Yu-Yuji?” you whimpered.

“Yuji’s not home right now, Princess,” he declared, “it’s not fair that he gets to have all the fun anyway.”

“Su-Sukuna, please,” you whined, tilting your pelvis back in an attempt to escape his roaming fingers, he only pressed against you harder.

“Why don’t you let me take you for a ride, babygirl,” as he said it, he dragged his finger downward, following your sweet, little slit beneath your underwear.

“You p-promised you wouldn’t,” if it wasn’t for the fact that Sukuna was so close to you, he never would have heard your feeble pleas.

“We all promise things we don’t really mean,” he groaned, removing his hand on your throat.

Sukuna smirked all the while you gasped for air—once again—and then whimpered, the focus in your sight made everything soft, your head felt full of cotton wool. Sukuna sniggered, the dumb, heavy-lidded look on your pretty, little face was nothing less than perfection. He pressed his fingers a slightly bit harder against your clit, inhaling sharply when he pulled strangled little mewls from behind your slightly parted lips.

Sukuna was more than a little fond of Yuji’s choice of mate, he’d been waiting far too long for this opportunity and he wasn’t going to squander it.

He was going to savour every moment.

“Let’s see,” Sukuna contemplated, relieving your clit of his fingers. He’d want you to beg for it, prove just how much of a needy little whore you really were; he’d have you screaming his name soon enough.

You whined at him as his hands crept along the outsides of your thighs, under your skirt, grabbing hold of your shapely hips. He ignored your cries while he pulled you toward him, your skirt now ruched above your waist.

“C’mere,” he grunted, jostling you with some force when you didn’t move quick enough for him.

From your position—your head now propped where your back had been, Sukuna suspending your arse with his large hands—you could almost pretend that it was still Yuji. It was still his body after all, right? Your eyes passed over the dark lines that only Sukuna had—you always thought they looked like tattoos—and the closed, second set of eyes. Those eyes unnerved you, scared you. You dropped your gaze.

You didn’t ever think you’d have to face this situation, Yuji had reassured you time and time again that he had control of Sukuna, that he wouldn’t be able to take over when things got hot and heavy between the both of you. Now, you supposed Sukuna had lied about being compliant the entire time.

Sukuna continued, “I demand a taste of this—“ he yanked your underwear down your thighs, pulling a little too hard on the waistband, “—sweet fucking cunny.”

Dumbfounded, you were only able to watch him with curious, wide eyes as he moved your legs to benefit him while he struggled to remove your underwear. He was clearly getting impatient, throwing your soaked underwear over his head and across the other side of the room.

Sukuna let out a long, deep moan, as he shuffled himself back. He brought your legs down, pressing his muscular upper-arms against the back of your thighs; this was his way of stabilising you while having both of his hands free.

With his biceps pushing into your thighs, you yelped as your neck was forced into an uncomfortable position. The top of your head pressed against the base of the bed while your ear squashed into your shoulder; you scrambled to hoist yourself up, pushing your palms against the floor.

“Ah-ah,” he growled, yanking you down by the hips.

Sukuna mumbled something, you may not have been able to hear it, but your widely spread cunt certainly felt him say something. He brought the index finger of his right hand up to hover just out of reach of your presenting hole; raising his gaze to catch you looking at him--your chest heaving with your gulping breaths, your eyes almost entirely closed, with your tongue gently lolled out over your bottom lip--he certainly hadn’t expected you to submit to him like this so easily.

“I can see why Yuji likes you,” Sukuna mused, you gasped loudly when his thick finger penetrated you for the first time, “a needy little bitch in heat, like you?”

He let out a satisfied groan as you convulsed against him, nowhere for you to go as he twisted his finger, left to right and back again, fucking you with little care as his thrusts became almost violent. You cried out when he began to hit his palm quite forcefully against your clit with each thrust of his finger; Sukuna’s dark eyes glared up at you, his thick brows pulling together in the middle of his brow while he snarled at you.

You really were trapped.

“I happen to know you like it rough,” he was smirking, the loud, wet sound that came from between your legs as he removed his finger with a yank make you shrink beneath him.

“But, let’s get one thing straight,” he continued, moaning while he sucked at your sweet juices that soaked his finger, “your little Yuji-Kun won’t ever compare to a demon,” Sukuna watched the panic set in your eyes, felt your thighs shaking against his arms as he angled you up.

“It’ll be so delightful and easy, making you teeter on that edge,” he snarled, “between pain and pleasure until I see fit.”

You yelped uncomfortably when the pad of his heavy thumb pressed into your clit; you heard him chuckle above your cries, pressing against it harder. Sukuna pursed his lips against your inner thigh. You felt his smirk against your skin when his thumb quickly shifted from your clit to your hole; it was without warning, your slick allowing him to pull in and out with ease. But the intrusion made you shudder, followed closely by an uncontainable wail.

“Oh, Princess,” he cooed, talking into your thigh, “you’re going to make over-stimming you so much fucking fun.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” it was a pitiful attempt at finding your voice.

Sukuna either couldn’t hear you or at the very least, he didn’t want to hear you. He dragged his tongue along your delicate skin, playfully nipping at you every few inches.

Oh, how it amused him when you squirmed, afraid of his real bite, perhaps? The thought excited him.

You continued to whimper while Sukuna roamed your thighs, but when he flicked the tip of his tongue across your clit—fucking you with his thumb, his fingernails digging into the flesh of your arsecheeks—you brought your hand to your face, biting down on the flesh of your wrist.

Sukuna ignored you, giving attention to your throbbing clit, using his free hand to spread your lips just a bit more, enough for him to sink his lips down and around you. He loved when you made those whiny, little bleats—so pathetic, so fucking easy.

But, no, this wasn’t enough for Sukuna. He jerked his thumb out—your walls quivered around the empty space—and replaced it with his tongue; he groaned loudly as he sloppily lapped at your dripping, wet cunt.

Crying into your hand, still biting down on your already raw flesh, you felt the pull of your hips, ready to spasm with the release that was building up within your core. Sukuna masterfully worked his way around your insides, tensing the tip of his tongue to satisfy that sweet spot within you.

“Cum for me, Princess,” his deep voice was cast even lower as he growled as he spoke those words, commanding you; you felt a pressure within your pelvis vibrate and coil.

A pretty, choked sob found its way behind your lips as you relaxed your head to the side. The arm you had been using to silence yourself came down on Sukuna’s head so hard he scratched at your outer thigh; that would surely leave a mark. Whether you were willing to admit it or not, the thought excited you, you wanted him to hurt you.

Sukuna seemed frustrated when you didn’t obey his demand.

“I said fucking cum for me, Princess,” he snarled, firmly placing his hands on either side of your arse. You gasped, feeling the sting of him driving the points of his nails into your flesh. “I won’t hesitate to hurt you, y’know,” he continued in between tending to your soft, little cunt, “but I get the feeling you’d—“ he huffed, driving his nails into you, eliciting a strangled, wailing moan from your lips, “—like it.”

A whimpering, twitching mess was all you were beneath Sukuna’s grip. You heard the sloppy, wet noises combining with his hungry moans, tasting as much of you as he possibly could. Leaning back onto his knees, Sukuna noticed the bright flush in your cheeks.

“Sweet, little thing,” he laughed, “look, she’s embarrassed.”

Sukuna delighted in having you as his play-thing, but he wasn’t quite done with you yet. While he stared at you with his impossibly dark eyes, you heard the distinct jostling of a belt being undone; you heard it land with a thud when he discarded it to the side, triggering your body to shudder once more.

He wasn’t impressed with you when you lowered your gaze away.

“No, no, no,” he chuckled, “you will return the favour, Babygirl.”

Your heart beat wildly against your chest, your breathing was nothing but desperate, clamouring gasps as he hoisted you by your hair. Your protesting cries meant nothing to him as he effortlessly pulled you to your knees and the sight of your eyes brimming with tears amused him all the more.

“You’d do it for him, wouldn’t you?” he gave an inflection to his voice, trying to mimic Yuji’s, “It’s still his body, right?”

Sukuna’s grip on your hair tightened while he fiddled with the zip of his trousers, you felt helpless, watching as he relieved his thick, hard cock from its clothed prison. It was Yuji’s body, but like this—when Sukuna felt the need to barge his way in—it was his, not Yuji’s.

“Isn’t it?” he spat, pushing you down toward his crotch, cock in hand.

You may have been too shocked to form words, disjoined syllables tumbling from your lips, but not shocked enough to resist him. You didn’t recoil when your lips pressed against the swollen, wet head of his cock, as he brushed his pre-cum across your lips. In fact, you were eager, Sukuna laughed when you parted your lips, ready to receive him.

“See, it’s not that bad, is it?” he mused as he tugged your head back to look up at him.

You heard him stifle a low growl, looking up at him with your pretty, glassy eyes and your puffy, pink lips.

Whining at him as you placed your hands on either side of his muscular thighs, you were a desperate little pet eager for master’s attention. You didn’t care that he held your weight by your hair, it didn’t matter that it hurt. You didn’t care how aggressive he was; it didn’t matter when it felt this good.

“That’s it,” his smile was devilish, allowing you to lower your head into his lap on your own terms.

When you moved Sukuna’s hand away from his cock, he let out a chortle that made your heart flutter. He was gentle while you teased the aching head of his cock. You were ever so pleased with yourself when you pulled guttural, feral moans from his lips; it was your turn to tease Sukuna. For however long he might allow it, that was.

Which wasn’t long at all, it would seem.

Sukuna was impatient and you were taking far too long, he wanted his dick rammed as far down your throat as he could, and he would. He wasn’t being gentle now, not when he pushed your head down onto him. When you let out a surprised yelp, he took the opportunity to take advantage.

“Fuck,” he hissed while you gagged on the intrusion of his length.

Your throat felt raw, there was no niceness about him now as he held you down. You were sure he would be smirking as you convulsed within his grip, feebly attempting to push against his tensed thighs with very little effect. Yuji might be rough with you, but Sukuna was on a different level, and you quickly understood just how utterly useless any and all attempts to save yourself would be.

It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt, and you knew—for certain—that someone was going to be you.

You closed your eyes and held onto his thighs so tight your knuckles turned white; it was the only thing you could do to distract yourself at that moment. The tears he’d forced from your eyes dripped onto your chest with your clumsy movements. You let out a wail of relief when he pulled you away, even just for a moment, it was welcomed.

"There's a good girl," he grunted, admiring the spit that dribbled down your chin, "there's my good little Princess."

Your moan at his words was cut off by a cruel shove of his hand; you gagged under the duress of him ramming into the back of your throat. He didn't care that you choked and spluttered beneath him, in fact, you knew it excited him; the way his cock twitched with each uncomfortable noise you made told you everything.

Every bone in your body screamed at you to submit to him, you would hope it would be less humiliating than this. Sukuna was surprised when you fell limp within his grasp and jerked you back once more.

“I wasn’t sure I’d break you so easily,” he chuckled, raising his free hand to your tear-stricken face.

You shuddered when his thumb stroked away at your wet cheek. You kept your eyes closed as his hand snaked its way across your face and down to your mouth. He tightened his grip on your hair as he held down hard with his other hand.

Your eyes darted open, Sukuna was a God looking down upon a mere mortal.

He hissed, you felt a heavy pressure against your lips as he used his hand to push you back against the pillow still propped against the bed. He was quick, untangling his hand from your hair to rest it on your inner thigh. He was laughing as his fingers tightened around your thigh, claws pinching at your flesh.

“Open wide, Babygirl,” baring his teeth at you, he looked maniacal, his hulking shape looming over you.

You sobbed helplessly as the mouth on his palm opened up, summoning a tongue that successfully infiltrated your mouth with very little effort. He laughed as your pretty, flushed face twisted, breathing frantically through your nose.

You were unable to make out the words he growled while he dragged his claws along the tender flesh of your inner thigh. The games he’d played with your throat, and consequently your oxygen, had dulled your senses—all except the ones that mattered, of course.

The bottom of his palm hit hard against your abused clit and your eyes widened with realisation. Sukuna smirked, both hands pressing so impossibly hard against both sets of your lips as he leaned into you.

“Just a little more,” he growled, “and then you’ll be ready for me.”

There was no time to think before the hand at your mouth pushed your head back, the finger and thumb on either side of your nostrils were dangerously close to completely restricting your airflow. Another tongue infiltrated your aching hole, he laughed at you as you convulsed beneath him. He allowed you to shake your head from side to side but nothing more, he found your efforts at yet another struggle tempting.

Your hips bucked defiantly beneath his hand as he bore against you. You whimpered against the tongue at your mouth as the one inside your twitching hole tickled against your most sensitive spot. Sukuna brought his face down impossibly close to yours, now gently grinding his palm against your clit; the only thing you felt were tight shocks that battered away within your core.

Sukuna gripped your face with his fingers, careless as his claws almost scratched at your face. When your head was brought up to meet him, your noses touched. It was unnerving.

You felt Sukuna’s tongues retreat. You were conflicted when you felt the gnawing ache of emptiness that was left behind. Formulating thoughts seemed impossible, coherency was nowhere to be found. With heavy-lidded eyes, you lazily watched as Sukuna knelt back.

It was cute, the way you opened your legs even wider for him. It wasn’t enough for Sukuna, nothing ever seemed enough for Sukuna. You felt his clawed hands grip the underside of your tender thighs; your breath shuddered, feeling the wet head of his cock bump against your widened hole.

“Good girl,” he breathed, “open wide.”

There was no other warning than his words as he shunted his hips forward, you moaned low in your throat—a strangled, feral noise—as your dripping wet cunt enveloped his throbbing length with very little ease.

“See,” he grunted, tightening his grip on your thighs, “I can be kind—“ he pulled his entire length, your hole quivered at the empty space, “—when I want to be.”

You wailed as he bottomed out against you, digging his claws into your flesh hard enough to draw blood as he frantically thrust. He’d been patient long enough but, while you’d been a good girl and indulged him, playtime was over.

Your head whirled and your limbs were numb. The only nerves that you felt any connection to were the ones in your pussy, the ones that made it possible to feel every protruding vein of his achingly hard cock The nerves that made it possible to feel every twitch it made as Sukuna put all his weight into you. He grunted, pushing back on your thighs, you yelped when he folded them against your stomach.

Sukuna delighted in hearing the moan you gave him after yet another deep, unrelenting thrust, his pelvis grinding roughly against your clit. You found yourself unraveling beneath him, you no longer felt within your own body.

“Yuji,” you mewled.

It was an easy mistake to make, a mistake that Sukuna did not appreciate. He laughed down at you as he picked up his pace. An unrelenting pace that shunted your body with each and every thrust. A pace that made you see stars.

“Silly little bitch,” he growled, spitting on your cheek, he was surprised when you let out a gasp of arousal, “say my name.”

He watched you convulse beneath him, felt you writhe and twist in his arms. It was delicious. The way your cunt clamped on his cock, tighter and tighter, and harder and harder until your cervix felt bruised.

“You’re mine right now, Princess,” he told you breathlessly, “Say it.”

You felt his spit hit your face again and your pelvis tightened. Things like that were supposed to feel this good, and for a brief moment, an internal struggle between arousal and embarrassment took place. Your arousal when Sukuna spoke.

“Say my fucking name,” was his final demand, but you could only cry out nonsense, “Say it!”

“Su-Sukuna!” you cried, obliged to obey him.

You were rewarded with the relief of Sukuna removing one of his hands from your thighs, too fucked-out to move—or care—your leg still rested against your stomach. He bared his teeth and brought his hand back; you were astonished that he never lost his momentum.

He grunted as he breathed.

“That’s right,” his voice began to waver, close to his own climax, “good girl.”

You could almost believe you weren’t just a piece of meat to him, the way his tongue wrapped around the words he used could make anyone feel special. But you were rudely reminded this was Sukuna, not Yuji, when his swung-back hand collided with your thigh.

The Earth itself could have shattered at that very moment, and all you’d feel would be him; you thought yourself lucky enough to remember your name.

“Good—“ he grunted against your arching hips, begging for more you couldn’t possibly take, “—girl.”

Sukuna juddered on top of you, within you, while his claws made their final assault on your skin, while he buried himself as deep within you as possible. You writhed and mewled beneath him, your hands grasped at the carpet, desperate to hold onto something while the pressure of his hot cum filling your battered cunt overwhelmed you.

There was a faint sting that broke through the pleasure as he continued to roll his hips against you, gently for the time being, now that he was spent.

It astonished you how quickly his breathing returned to normal while you struggled to draw any breaths that felt satisfying, still recoiling and twitching. You could speak only broken gibberish.

Sukuna lowered your legs, you wished he’d more gentle; you winced as your hip joints creaked having been forced into such an uncompromising position. You felt the weight of his chest press against yours and his nose nuzzled gently against the crook of your neck.

There was a tense moment as you lay under him as your senses regained consciousness.

“Yu-Yuji?” you whimpered, tears threatened the edges of your eyes.

The pretty pink man who lay on top of you let out an angered growl, the hands that tightened around your wrists no longer had claws; there was care in the grip.

“I’ll kill him,” you heard him growl, his grip tightening.

“Yuji I’m—“ he didn’t leave you room to finish as he lifted his head, gazing down at you with furrowed eyebrows and bold, dark eyes.

“But first,” he told you, looking down at the mess between where your bodies connected, “it looks like I have to punish you first.”

He looked back to you—was he enjoying this?—and cast a dirty smirk at you.

“Because despite what Sukuna may think or say,” he continued, looming closer to you, his cock twitching with every word, “you haven’t been a good girl, have you, Princess?”

Your lips may have been moving but your voice was inaudible.

“You can thank Sukuna for one thing though, Princess,” he growled, nipping at your neck.

His voice broke when he deliberately moaned in your ear, a sound that made you squirm with delight.

“There’s no more holding back,” was the last thing he said before raising your arms above your head and locking his teeth to your neck.

542 notes · View notes

xiaojusaur · 3 years

Text

Fly Away With Me

Pairing: Pilot! Kun x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, mentions of alcohol (wine), phone sex, nipple play, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe please), cum play.

Word Count: 5.5K

Description: After a class reunion, Kun and you, high school sweethearts, start to talk again. He achieved his dream of being a pilot and he takes you to fly with him, to then make you reach the clouds in a night full of passion.

You didn’t expect much from the class reunion, but deep down you were excited to see how everyone had been doing and you were dying to see the changes! You knew for a fact that a few of those plastic girls were already married with a bunch of kids and some of the guys who used to bully you had turned to be ugly. Meanwhile, you were in all your glory, being successful and getting hotter every day.

You couldn’t wait to see your best friends and laugh at everyone else in secret, it has been long since you’ve reunited since work had you overwhelmed.

The reunion was taking place in a fancy hotel lobby since that way it was easier for those who lived out of town to stay there too. Everyone was wearing fancy dresses and looking sharp. Everyone had champagne pr wine in hand. You were with your friends talking about that one guy, Alex, who used to be one of the hottest guys and now was a mess.

“Look at him, he looks crusty as fuck,” said one of your friends and you all laughed.

“Has anyone seen Mirena?” Asked the other.

“Yeah, she has like five kids,” you answered.

“No wonder!” She exclaimed.

“Oh! I just remembered!” One of them almost screamed, “Do you all remember Y/N’s crush? What was his name?”

“Oh! Kun?” Replied the other. You didn’t even remember him. He was so cute, you wonder how had life treated him so far.

“Look at her, she’s daydreaming about him again,” your friends teased you.

“Nooo! I didn’t even remember him. I wonder if he’s coming,” you smiled. Though you never became a couple, you always dreamed about kissing him. So innocent!

As the event unfolded, everyone was having a great time, enjoying the music, the food, and drinks, catching up with everyone.

You and your friends were talking near the entrance when a guy dressed all in black entered the place. You were scanning him trying to figure out who he was.

“Ladies,” he nodded your way, noticing your eyes on him.

“Hello,” you all greeted him.

“Is this the class reunion?” He locked eyes with you, maybe trying to spot you in his mind, and as your friends confirmed him it hit you: this was Qian Kun. His eyes lit up, also recalling you. “Wait, Y/N?”

“Kun?” You gasped. He was so handsome! Oh God! You could almost faint there!

“Heyy! I’m so glad to see you again!” he embraced you in a tight hug. He smelled exquisite, your heart fluttered.

“Likewise! Wow!” You were excited.

“I’ll be meeting with some friends inside, I’ll come back in a few to catch up,” he promised.

As soon as he was out of sight, your friends started ooing and teasing you, “Y/N! He became hotter! How is that possible?!”

“I’m speechless! Wow... he remembered me... and he wants to catch up,” you were amazed.

“Gurl! This is your chance! Get that man! He looks expensive, there was no ring on his finger and he seems interested in you. GET HIM!” They cheered.

And you wanted... you SO wanted to get him, because if in high school he was cute, now he was unbelievably hot!

Everyone was dancing and drinking, you were in the crowd, having fun with your friends when Kun approached you again. “So what’s up? What have you been doing?” He was almost screaming over the loud music.

“Just working hard. What about you?” You sipped your wine.

“That’s great! Remember that my dream was to become a pilot?” He asked, expecting you would even remember his dreams. And he was right, you did remember. When you nodded he continued, “Well, I am a pilot! I have my own airplane.”

“Oh my God! That’s amazing! I’m so happy you could reach your dream!” You were genuinely happy.

“Thanks! Do you perhaps want to go outside? So we can talk better?” He suggested.

“Sure, let’s go!” And he let you lead the way.

Outside, you sat on a bench and kept talking. It was as if you were true friends but he was just a crush, how did he remember you so clearly? If you talked like 5 times when you were in high school it was much.

Being the straightforward person you were, you had to ask, “Hey Kun, don’t get me wrong on this but how do you remember so many things about me? We barely talked back in high school.”

“Y/N,” he chuckled and you swear you could just melt right there, his smile was the prettiest. “You do know I had a crush on you, right?”

The confession punched the air out of you. You were shocked! He never told you and you never told him, and there you were: two fools crushing on each other but never dared to talk.

“Wait... what?!” You couldn’t conceal the surprise in your voice.

“I thought you knew,” his eyes widened in shock.

“You never told me! Nobody told me! Why?!” You both started laughing.

“Well, my friends used to teased us both. I thought you would figure it out, that’s why I never actually confessed. Plus, you know how shy I was,” he explained.

“Kun! Oh God... I had the hugest crush on you too,” you told him while pressing your temple in distress.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” He shouted in surprise, you supposed.

“Because I thought you were too cute and unreachable for me,” you confessed looking at you feet.

“Well that’s stupid, because I thought you were the prettiest girl in school. And right now, I still think you’re beautiful,” his voice was so mellow, he had you wrapped around his finger.

“Thanks,” you could feel your cheeks getting hot.

“Look at me,” his hand forced your head to look him in the eyes. “We still have time to catch up,” he smirked.

“Oh yeah?” You dared him.

“Mhm. How about you give me your number?” He was being smooth and you loved seeing him struggle. Then he seemed to remember something, “Oh! Right! Are you married? Do you have a boyfriend? I forgot we are at that age.”

“Neither of those. I am as lonely as a cloud,” you sighed.

“Good. I mean... good that you don’t have anyone so we can talk,” he seemed desperate when he realized what he said. It was really funny.

“It’s okay! I understood!” You placed your hand on his in assurance.

You spent the rest of the night between your friends and dancing with Kun. Your friends kept bothering you with him and you had to told them what happened outside, which made it worse because now they were doing everything to get you two together.

“Y/N is sleeping cozy tonight!” They cheered with champagne.

“Stop! No!” You laughed.

“The pilot is taking you to the clouds tonight! Woooo!” You were all having so much fun.

The event came to an end and everyone left to their respective homes or hotel rooms. You were staying with your friends in the same room, so you all took the party to there.

You were laying on the bed when your phone started ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Kun’s voice whispered in your ear giving you goosebumps. Your friends stopped doing what they were doing to hear your conversation.

“Oh, hi!” You said cheerfully.

“What you doing?” This was a normal question, but his tone wasn’t normal at all. His voice was breathier than usual.

“Just here, in the hotel room,” you played with your hair.

“You’re staying here too?” He asked.

“Mhm,” you confirmed.

“Great,” his tone was lower. Your friends had their eyes fixed on you and you widened your eyes and bit your lip in signal that he was being hot.

“What do you mean?” You asked with all the intention of hearing him confess that he wanted to spend the night with you.

“It’s great that we’re just steps away from each other,” his smoky voice had your head spinning.

“Mhm,” you agreed again.

“Do you have any plans right now?” He inquired curiously.

“Not really. Do you have something in mind?” You were using your sultry voice and your friends gave you a thumbs up.

“Well, I was thinking maybe you could come. We could talk some more, if you want of course,” he was such a gentleman. “I’m just here in my bathrobe drinking wine.” What could you do with that piece of information? You imagined his body under that robe, his tussled hair and his fiery eyes.

“Sure! Give me your room number, I’ll be there in a few,” your whole skin was ringing in excitement.

“305. The door is open, but if you have any problems, knock.”

“Will do!” And with that you hung up.

“Spill out!” Your friend shouted.

“Bitch! He invited me to his room!” you screamed.

“GET IT! GO!!!! Go get that dick!” Cheered the other.

“Oh my God! What should I wear?!” You were panicking.

“Do you have a nightgown?” Asked your friend.

“Not really, I have these PJ’s” you pulled then to the sides modeling them.

“I have one that might fit,” she went to her luggage and pulled out a maroon silk nightgown with a robe. “Here, try it on.” You went to the bathroom and it fitted perfectly, so you went out and all your friends started complimenting how good you looked.

“Now, go there and have fun with the love of your life,” your friend said as she fixed your hair.

You took the elevator and at the third floor, you walked slowly until reaching the 305. The door was open ajar and you could see the light turned on. You hesitated for a second but the pushed the door slowly. “Kun?” You called slowly.

“Come on in!” He shouted from the inside and when hearing his voice you got the confidence to continue. You closed the door at your back.

Kun was sitting on a sofa with a glass of wine in his hand. You suddenly felt yourself getting hot but you tried to conceal it with taking your hair out of your shoulders.

“Take a sit,” he signaled to the space by his side, “Feel at home.”

You felt his eyes on you, studying you from head to toe. It made you laugh so you told him, “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, “you look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you felt like melting.

“So, how has life treated you? Tell me more about yourself,” he said as he extended his arm to reach the wine bottle to fill his glass again.

“Life has been hectic, but at least I have a job that I like,” you shrugged.

“You drink?” He offered you a glass full of the reddish liquid.

“Sure, thanks,” you accepted it and quickly took a sip.

“Where do you work? If I may ask,” he relaxed on the sofa.

“In a travel agency,” you smiled because you found it funny how he was a pilot. Your jobs complemented each other.

“Oh! So you are giving me more work? I see,” he faked being offended.

“Hey! At least I’m giving you more money,” you laughed and he laughed with you.

“That’s true! But I’m glad that you’re doing good.” He sighed remembering how life was easier before, the moments in high school, your beautiful smile.

“What about you?” You interrupted his thoughts, “tell me about how you got to be a pilot. That should be exciting.”

“Definitely! I had to study hard though. But it’s a great satisfaction when you finally get there. The first time I flew I was very nervous, but then I felt the freedom and an immense peace. Being there between the clouds is an amazing experience.” He was looking at the distance, looking so passionate about what he was saying. It was wholesome and sexy.

“Maybe I can take you to fly with me someday,” he blinked and then looked at you smiling.

“I’d love to,” you giggled. You don’t know if it was your imagination due to the almost gone wine in your hand or the spark of the moment, but you felt he was getting closer. Like magnets, you were getting closer as if it was natural. Kun stopped centimeters away from your mouth and whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you blurted. There was nothing that you wanted more than to kiss his plump lips; you’ve been wanting to do it since high school.

He did the final move and his lips touched yours gently. His breath smelled like alcohol, probably the wine he has been consuming. His lips felt like everything you imagined, so meaty, so soft. He then pulled away, leaving you wanting more. Kun stood up from the couch and walked to the bathroom. You were so confused, did he not like it?

“Let’s go to the balcony,” he offered you his hand to take when he came back and you did.

You two sat outside, talking about life events while drinking more wine and watching the city lights.

You felt your eyes heavy, maybe from the wine, maybe because you were sleepy, but you didn’t want to go yet, you wanted to spend more time with Kun, maybe watch the sunrise together from here.

“Y/N,” he called you softly.

“Yes?” You smiled. He placed his hand on top of yours on your thigh.

“Do you want to go back to your room? You look sleepy,” he smiled back in assurance. He was such a gentleman, you wish he knew you just wanted to jump on him.

“Kun...” you whispered.

“Yes, darling?” Your stomach knotted at the pet name.

“I thought you wanted to... you know...” you tilted your head insinuating the word but not saying it.

“I wanted to what?” He looked puzzled.

“To... have sex with me,” you blushed.

“Y/N, honey,” he got closer to you, “you have no idea how much I want to make love to you. But we’re kinda tipsy, I don’t want to do something that you may regret later. I better have you in all your senses so we can both enjoy it, you know?” Could he be more perfect?

“I agree,” you nodded.

“Let me take you to your room.” He stood up and took you hand, helping you get on your feet.

On the way back to your room, he embraced you, keeping you warm. At the door, you felt a sudden melancholy and didn’t want him to leave. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep in contact with you, we’ll go out soon.”

“I’ll be waiting for you,” you smirked and he smirked back. He pecked your lips and left.

Kun and you kept talking on the phone and finally arranged a date. He kept his promise and would take you to fly with him. You were excited to share this moment with him and to try something new. You were talking on the phone the night before.

“Are you excited about tomorrow?” He asked.

“Yes! I can’t wait!” You giggled.

You heard him giggle too and then he sighed, “I wish you were here right now.”

“What was that? What for?” You were intrigued.

“I don’t know, I feel we really get along. I enjoy your company,” he confessed.

“That’s cute,” you cooed.

“Yeah... but I also can’t wait to kiss you,” you heard him chuckled. He was so naughty!

“I can’t wait to kiss you either,” there was a change in your voice, from shy and cute to sultry.

“Do you have plans at night?” His voice got lower.

“Nope, I’m all yours tomorrow,” you were following his game because you knew where he was leading you to.

“Hmm... that sounds sexy, all mine,” you could almost see him smirk.

“Yes, all yours,” you assured him.

“How about we come home to relax a little?” He suggested, but you knew what he meant.

“I’d love to,” you sighed imagining all you would do, you really couldn’t wait to have his hands on you.

“What’s wrong? You sighed, are you not feeling comfortable?” He really was the king of consent.

“Oh no, it’s not that! On the contrary...” you cut the sentence there.

“On the contrary...?” He was encouraging you to continue.

You were on the mood for some fun, so you decided to tease him. “I’m just imagining all the things we could do at your house.”

“Mmm... and what would that be?” You heard him shuffling on his bed.

“I don’t know... sexy things,” you shied.

“Don’t be shy baby, tell me what do you feel like doing to me?” Kun whispered.

You gasped at the name, he caught you off guard. “Kun, I want your hands on me.”

“Baby, I would love to touch every inch of your skin,” he said in a groggy voice.

“I want you, Kun,” you sighed.

“I want you too. You have no idea,” he snarled.

“I can’t wait,” you admitted.

“Mmm... I’m getting so turned on right now,” Kun confessed in a groggy voice.

“Are you?” You breathed.

“Yes. Keep talking to me like that and I might have to jack off for you,” he hummed.

You gasped, “So dirty!”

“Dirty is what I’m going to do with you,” he chuckled evilly.

“Oh yeah? And what is that?” You wanted to hear him say it.

“Oh baby, I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll be begging me for more. Everyone will know my name because of how loud you’ll be screaming it. Im gonna have your legs shaking so much, you won’t be able to walk the next day,” he groaned and you moaned in response because that’s what you’ve always wanted, to have Kun make you his.

“Would you like that?” He inquired in a raspy tone.

“I’d love that,” you purred, smitten by the idea of being between his arms after the action.

“Then... I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? We’re gonna have so much fun,” his voice changed suddenly to his normal tone, you supposed he was trying to control himself.

“I can’t wait,” you smiled.

“Bye bye,” he said softly and hung up. He was torturing you so much, teasing you to then forget about it and start being too respectful. You loved he was a gentleman, but right now, you just wanted to be disrespected and fucked into unconsciousness.

The next day, he picked you up early, you got breakfast and then were headed to the airport where he had his plane. He took your hand and kissed it, making you blush, and then held it on his thigh while driving. He looked so sexy today with his dark mane knotted in a tiny ponytail. “Are you nervous?” He asked.

“Yes. Very,” you chuckled trying to sound it was fine.

“Relax,” he caressed your hand with his thumb, “It’s gonna be fine and you’re gonna have so much fun once we’re up there”.

“I’m excited!” You gave him a big smile, “but I’m also nervous because you’re here.”

“Oh? I make you nervous?” You saw his little smirk.

“Yes! I mean, you’re my forever crush and we’re here, together,” you shrugged and he laughed.

“That’s so cute,” he kissed your hand again.

“Stop that! I’m gonna die because of blood loss in the rest of my body!” You whined.

“You’re too cute,” he cooed.

Once you got to the airport, he talked to a lot of people, presenting you as his special friend. While waiting for the preparations for flying, he hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek. You giggled and he laughed with you. “What are you doing?” You asked between laughs.

“Loving you?” He pecked your shoulder.

“I like the sound of that,” you purred and he hugged you tighter.

“Sorry to interrupt,” one of the workers walked in while you two were being all lovey-dovey. “Everything’s ready sir,” he indicated to Kun.

“Excellent, let’s go!” He took your hand and you walked to the airstrip.

Kun jumped inside the aircraft and pulled you by his side. He buckled you up and placed a headset on your head. “This will drown the loud sounds and you’ll be able to hear me,” he explained and you nodded.

Your whole skin tingled in excitement, there were tons of feelings in your head. He looked at you as making sure you were okay and when seeing your wide smile he leaned in and pecked your lips.

He started pressing buttons and then he pushed a lever and the machine started to move slowly and then faster and faster and faster. You felt your heart on your throat and you closed your eyes tightly because you were scared.

“Don’t close your eyes, Y/N! Feel the freedom!” Kun screamed. And a few seconds later you felt your soul was left on the ground while your body was flying.

“Scream it out! WOOOOO!!!!” Kun was full of adrenaline and it was so funny so you imitated him. “WOOOOOOOO!”

“YEAH! THATS IT!” He encouraged you and then started touching buttons again. You had closed your eyes unknowingly and when you opened them you were over the clouds. You felt breathless, you were frozen, staring with wide eyes your surroundings. It was beautiful! The sky looked so blue and the tiny white clusters resembled pillows floating in the sky. You felt an unfamiliar peace, it was strange yet so soothing. Now you know why Kun loved being on the clouds.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” You heard him comment.

“I... I have no words. This is unreal,” you said amazed.

“This view is as beautiful as you,” he complimented you and you felt the hotness on your cheeks.

“Now I understand why you love so much being up here, it’s relaxing,” you sighed.

“Yeah, it’s a great stress reliever,” he explained and extended his hand to place it on your thigh.

He kept piloting and trying to scare you moving the aircraft suddenly or spinning it slightly. You had so much fun!

When you finally landed, you felt lightheaded. Kun noticed it and slyly wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you. He thanked the guys who helped him and said goodbye to then walked you two to his car.

“Are you hungry?” He asked while starting the engine.

“Very!” You admitted.

“Did you have fun?” He looked straight at your eyes.

“Yes! It was amazing! Thank you,” you placed your hand on his and he turned his to intertwine your fingers.

“I’m glad you had fun. Now let’s eat!”

He took you to a restaurant and there you talked more about your high school days while you ate delicious food. When you were finished he was looking at you with inviting eyes, you lowered your gaze to avoid blushing again, but since he didn’t stop looking at you, you whispered “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, “Just admiring your beauty.”

“Stop!” You giggled and he started laughing.

When you got to the car again you were both in silence, but it wasn’t awkward, it was a silence on longing, of knowing what would come next; the moment you both have been yearning for.

His house was almost a mansion, so spacious and fancy. You were dazzled as soon as he opened the door: it was so bright, full of crystal windows, it was like him. You felt the air change as soon as you crossed the door. Kun stood in front of you and pulled you closer by the waist.

“Can I be honest?” He asked in a murmur.

“Of course,” your skin was tingling in anticipation of his confession.

“I was doing my best effort here to control myself, but I really, really, really, want to make love to you,” Kun said in a hoarse whisper.

“Why aren’t we doing it already?” Your mouth talked before you could think.

“I didn’t want you to think I just wanted to fuck. I really wanted to catch up with you, converse, maybe kiss and then if you wanted, we could make love.” He sounded so confident and he was being such a gentleman you just wanted to jump on him. Your pupils dilated and you gulped trying to conceal the sudden heat you felt, you didn’t know what to do or what to say.

“Kun... I so want you to make me yours,” you said in a breathy tone. There was a long silence between you two, but suddenly, as if you were reading each other’s mind, you embraced each other, kissing fiercely. Kun guided you to his room, where he laid you on his bed and leaned on slowly to kiss you again. His mouth traveled to you neck where he pecked, licked, and nibbled gently. Your breath was getting heavier and the clothes started to be a nuisance, tugging at each other shirts, hands sneaking underneath the fabric, eager to feel skin on skin. “You’re okay with this, right?” He asked breathlessly in the middle of savoring your neck. “Hell yeah!” You growled and he hissed in response.

He took off your shirt and you his, the pieces of clothes flying and landing on the floor. Kun kissed his way lower and lower until reaching your breasts, which he exposed by pulling your bra. “Mmm... so perfect,” he hissed at the sight of your hardened nipples. You ran your hands down his arms slowly, enjoying his body heat. “What if I do this?” He licked your nipple while looking at you as in waiting for your approval, but you just nodded desperately and moaned, “Oh, I love it Kun...” He continued playing with your bosoms until they were all wet with his saliva. He kept his trip down your body, kissing until reaching a little lower than your navel. Kun unbuttoned your shorts and slid them down your legs, leaving you in underwear. He left butterfly kisses down your legs and back up. He was so close to where you needed him, his breath tickling your clothed core. Your toes started to curl in expectance.

“Mmm... I can’t wait to taste you, I bet you are so sweet,” his raspy voice made you whimper.

“Kun, baby, please... I’m sooo wet for you.”

“I can see that,” he commented while pulling your panties to the side. The sudden brease made you jump and he held your waist to keep you steady. “Just lie back and let me take care of you, would you?” You just nodded rapidly and relaxed on his pillows.

Kun gave a long first lick to you slit and you gasped while looking at him, seeing how your juices sticked up to his tongue. He hummed and licked again, this time diving more.

“Oh! Oh my god Kun...” you hissed.

His lips enclosed your clit and he sucked hard, ripping a scream out of you. “Ah! So good!” Your hands flew to his head. He kept licking, sucking, making slurping sounds. His mouth was moving faster along with his tongue and you were feeling the knot in your belly trying to snap. “Fuck! Please! Kun, I’m gonna cum,” you cried.

“You wanna cum on my tongue?” He stopped for a second to take a breath and then continued his ministrations.

“Mhm! Mhm! You’re so good with that tongue!” You mewled and started moving your hips trying to reach your release. Kun started flicking his tongue faster until you felt the bliss of the orgasm, a strangled keen letting him know. Kun kissed your thighs, your belly and then reached your lips. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered and then caressed your cheek.

While you regained your breath, you could see the strain in his pants and you couldn’t wait to have him inside you, so you extended your arms and unbuttoned his jeans.

“So eager, my love?” He chuckled surprised.

“Yes, please fuck me Kun. I need you,” you pleaded desperately.

He groaned at you begging for him, he loved it. “You want me to fuck you, huh? You’ve been desperate for getting this dick, haven’t you?” He snarled while sliding his pants and briefs down his legs, finally freeing his mouth-watering length.

Kun pulled you to him by the arms, making you sit on the mattress. “Let’s take off that underwear. I wanna have you skin on skin, feel every inch of you on me,” he whispered while unclasping your bra, your already ruined panties long forgotten on the floor.

He went for a kiss and you both fell on his pillows again slowly. After what seemed an eternity of kisses, he asked, “Are you ready for me, baby?”

“Yes, Kun,” you ran a hand down his back before he kneeled on the bed right between your legs. He took his dick by the base and started teasing you, collecting your juices with his tip. He then stopped at your hole and pushed slowly inside you. Kun bit his bottom lip while your mouth formed a silent moan. He bottomed in you and then pulled back, both hissing at the sensation. He kept thrusting you slowly, admiring how he was stretching you.

“Mmmm... you’re so tight baby.” He closed his eyes enjoying the feeling.

“You feel so good, Kun,” you said in a shaky whisper. You were feeling so full of him, you wanted him closer, so you held his hand. He kissed your hand and like understand your message, he leaned over, caging you between his arms. He kept plunging into you while looking at your face and kissing you now and then. The weight and heat of his body felt amazing on you and the fact that this was Qian Kun, your forever crush, had your whole body buzzing with excitement.

Kun had his head near your neck and he took that chance to whisper sweet things in your ear. “Such a good girl. You feel so warm around me. You’re perfect.”

The room was a feast of whimpers, moans, and grunts combined with gentle touches and passionate kisses.

“Kun baby, fuck me harder please,” you begged chokingly.

He hummed and said, “You want it harder, babe?”

“Mhm... please,” you nodded frantically. He propped on his forearms and started snapping his hips faster, the bed creaking in complaint. The sound of skin hitting skin invaded the room while you screamed your lungs out from pleasure. “God! Kun! I love it! I love you!”

“I love you too, princess,” he said through gritted teeth.

Suddenly he stopped. “Crap! My arm!” He had a cramp and you found it so cute, you started to laugh. He started massaging it and then bursted in laughs too.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you assured him, “Let’s get comfortable and enjoy this moment.”

His impulse was to kiss your cheek. You were so sweet and understanding, he really made a catch with you.

“Now, where were we?” He smirked and you just opened your legs to receive him again.

Kun placed your legs on his shoulders just to reach that cushioned place that would send you to bliss. “Fuuuuck, right there!” You moaned, circling his neck with your arms. He increased his pace hitting you just right. You were clenching him, indicating that you were close.

“Give it to me, let it out babe,” Kun panted. But you didn’t want to stop, you wanted this moment to last forever. Your body betrayed you and your sweet release came soon. “Ohhh yeah, Kun... fuck!” He loved you expression of satisfaction and kept going concentrated on it.

“I love to see you enjoy my dick, you’re such a good girl,” he hissed. A few minutes later, he pulled out and came on your stomach with a loud grunt. He kissed your lips and then laid back for a moment to gain his breath.

“Wow, that was amazing...” he was still panting.

You chuckled tiredly in response, “Yes, I loved it.”

“Let me regain my energy for a moment, I’ll go get you a towel,” his eyes were closed but he looked happy.

After what seemed like forever, he looked for a wet towel to clean the mess he made on you, but he had a better idea. “How about we shower together?”

“We’re at that stage now?” You asked joking with him.

“If you want, of course,” he shrugged.

“Yes, let’s go!” You jumped off the bed all naked, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the bathroom with you.

The shower was a fun experience and you were already imagining this happening every day and your heart shrank.

You were at his bed now, cuddling and talking about the future. “Y/N, you really make me happy and I’m glad we reunited again.”

“I’m glad too,” you smiled and kissed his exposed chest.

“I only went to that party to see if I could find you, and look at us now, between each other’s arms, sharing a bed...” his hand caressed your arm absentmindedly.

You looked up to meet his gaze, “I love you Kun.”

“I love you too, princess,” he kissed your forehead.

You thought he fell asleep because there was a moment of silence, but then he proved you wrong by calling your name.

“Yes?” Your hand reached for his cheek.

“Marry me.” He didn’t ask, he declared it.

You were shocked at first, your heart was beating so fast, but your mouth talked before your brain could process. “Yes.” No questions asked. You knew each other for so long, you saw you had a great chemistry, why not marry the love of your life?

“Let’s fly together forever.”

#neosmutcollective #nsckickback #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #fanfic #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv smut #wayv #nct fluff #wayv scenarios #qian kun #kun wayv #kun smut #kun fluff #weishenv

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byunbaekby · 4 years

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title — a clouded fate pairing — badboy!mark lee x female reader featuring — lucas wong/wong yukhei, johnny seo, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta (mentioned), lee donghyuck (mentioned) word count — 17.2k overall warnings — extreme drug use, drug dealing, alcohol use, language, religion, addiction, drug overdose, vomiting, one explicit smut scene smut warnings — fingering, protected sex (stay safe, always!), high sex, corruption kink for like 0.2 seconds, degradation collab — bad boy bingo collab, link here lyrics inspiration — “call it quits, call it destiny.” bruno major, easily ; “gotta stay high all the time, to keep you off my mind.” tove lo, habits writing playlist — link here

author’s message — oh my gosh, it’s finally here! this has been a work in progress basically ever since early summer, when i started writing on this blog. this is one of my favorite pieces i’ve ever written, but not because writing it came easy to me; quite the opposite. i scrapped and rewrote this three times, consulted many people for their opinions because i simply didn’t think that it was good. a few thank you’s: my babe @jensungf for reading the first draft when it was at barely 5k, the lovely @ncteaxhoe for reading it at 7k and also the night i finished it, @taempteng the writing god for proofing it for me, and my amazing @starlit-jeno for getting me through everything. also thank you @legendnct for hosting this collab! it’s finally at a place where i am happy and very very proud of what i’ve written. i hope you all read and enjoy!

—DAY ONE.

The ice cold water thrown over him shocks Mark awake from his post-high sleep.

“What the hell, man?” He exclaims, wiping the water from his face as he sits up in his bed, soaked t-shirt sticking to the curve of his clavicles. His eyes meet the source of the intrusion: his roommate and best friend Lucas, holding a now empty pitcher.

“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”

Lucas’ passive words only make Mark furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. “Shut the fuck up bitch, I’m awake.”

“Someone’s feisty today.” Lucas retorts, tossing Mark a towel as he swings his legs over the bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he recognizes his best friend’s chastising tone in his diluted ears. “When did you get back last night? What were you doing?”

“Calm down,” Mark groans, the volume of Lucas’ voice beginning to hurt his head. Running a hand through his now wet hair, he responds, “I was smoking with Yuta. Got back around three in the morning.”

“Yuta,” mumbles Lucas. “You know, I don’t like him. You’re always with him, getting high or something. Exams start soon, and you’re not planning to study at all? You’ve been high every day for what, like, the past two weeks?”

This early morning lecture is enough to cause Mark’s irritation to spike. Since when is Lucas so nitpicky? Last time he checked, Lucas enjoys partying just as much as he does. Sometimes, even more than Mark himself. “Fuck, are you my roommate or my mom?”

“I’m your best friend, is what I am. I’m worried about you. All you do is party, get high, and sleep. When was the last time you even ate?” Before Mark can even think back to answer that, Lucas continues, “You’ve been like this since you broke up with Y/N, and—”

Mark cuts him off. “Don’t say her name.”

“You’re hurting, Mark. And this isn’t the right way to handle it.”

“Oh, so you take one psychology course and you think you’re an expert or something,” Mark scoffs.

This seems to stunt his roommate for a second, before he sighs looking down at the image of his best friend sitting on the edge of his bed, gaunt eyes and all. The last time he saw his friend looking so pitiful was when his dad had passed. “I’m just worried about you. You should let me be, sometimes,” replies Lucas quietly.

“I’m an adult,” says Mark, which causes Lucas to scoff and respond, “Then act like one.” Annoyed, Mark stands and instead takes a seat at his desk chair.

The taller male speaks up once again, starting to tear off Mark’s bed sheets that are now wet. “You need to stop. This isn’t good for you. Stop the drugs and tell Johnny you’re done. Study for your finals. Get your act together, stop acting like an idiot, and go get her back.”

When he finishes stripping the sheets and looks up, Mark’s head is in his hands. “It’s not that easy.”

“You love her.”

“But that doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together,” Mark finally says as he looks up, voice raised in frustration at both the situation and the fact that his best friend is calling him out for it. “We can’t be together,” he declares. “I’m only going to ruin her. She’s good. I’m bad. She has a future. I don’t. She’s everything I’m not and I can’t mess it up for her. Not after... Not after—” Lucas cuts his friend off, sensing that he’s about to start hyperventilating.

“I know. What happened, you can’t change it. It was your fault. But don’t say you’re not meant to be together. Nothing’s going to change the past. You broke up. But nothing’s going to bring you back together but yourself.”

Mark stares at Lucas with tired, red-rimmed eyes, wondering when his tall goofy friend had grown so much. Has everything around him changed, matured, while he stayed the same?

“How do I do that?” He finally relents.

“Make yourself good enough for her. Start with the drugs. Stop doing them.”

He knows the truth in that statement, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. It’s a lot easier said than done. With no words to say, Mark stands and starts to walk past his friend toward the bathroom. On the way out, he accidentally kicks his guitar, on the floor propped on the wall. “Fuck,” he curses, looking down at the old wooden thing.

Lucas follows him out as he leaves the room, and Mark steps into the bathroom. Opening the mirror cabinet, he pulls out his prescription bottle which shakes with noise. Silently he pops a pill into his mouth and swallows it with a handful of tap water. It’s probably a bad idea on an empty stomach, but he’ll eat whatever Lucas is making right after.

“That includes the Xanax, Mark!” Lucas’ voice calls from the kitchen.

“Baby steps,” he responds, staring endlessly into the pitiful character watching him in the mirror.

—THE FIRST NIGHT

It isn’t his first party, but it’s his first college party. There’s a big difference.

The scale is larger, the alcohol more plentiful. And more importantly, the shame of being under the influence is nonexistent. His ziploc of kush feels heavy in his pocket, but he knows he’ll feel lighter with its effect later on. School’s only been in session a week, yet Mark’s already decided he likes university more than high school.

He hasn’t smoked yet, but clearly others have, from the haze wafting from room to room. The music is loud, the air is musty, and there’s a cloud of visible smoke surrounding a group of people in the corner. He can smell it now, the familiar scent relaxing him in a new environment.

He’s about to venture out to said group, catching Lucas’ ashy gray hair (a horrible decision, really) sticking out from its inhabitants, but then something catches his eye.

In a room of dark gray smoke and purple LED lights, a white dress catches his attention. He turns his head and, faded by the blurred intensity of the smoke, there you are. Leaning with your back against the wall, alone. You’re not doing much, just standing there in your awkward lonesome looking entirely out of place while swirling the contents of your red cup in your hand. With seemingly no move to drink it, you’re staring blankly into said cup, and Mark stares blankly at you. The white fabric of your dress seems to vividly attract the iridescent purple lights of the party, leaving you to stand out in the massive crowd. Though from the way you stand out from the crowd, it seems that that’s the last thing you want to do; you’d rather blend into the scene.

But you don’t. You’re a beacon of white light in the gray bleakness of the party, and Mark contemplates his next action. He had promised Lucas that he’d be his wingman to try and win over Yuqi. But there’s something about you that pulls him.

Oh well, he muses to himself as he slides across the room toward you. It’s not his fault Lucas needs a wingman to talk to girls, and he doesn’t.

“Hey,” he starts, trying to make himself heard above the music. “You’re staring at that thing like you need a refill.”

At the sound of his voice you look up as though suddenly startled. Then your eyes land on him and Mark’s not entirely sure if he’s sane, but you relax. “No thanks,” you respond politely. “I don’t drink.”

“Really?” Mark glances at his red Solo cup, half filled with some sordid mixture of vodka and Fanta that Doyoung had given him earlier.

“Is that strange?” You ask curiously as he makes move to lean on the wall next to you. Except rather than lean his back to it, he presses his shoulder to the wall to face you.

“A bit.” Mark says as he tilts his head back, pressing the red cup to his lips as he downs the rest of the liquid in his cup.

“Maybe. I’ve learned that there are more people who drink in college than people who don’t… I guess I fall into the second category.” When he finishes his drink, he tosses it over his shoulder.

“Nah,” he says in response. “I don’t really drink either. Only occasionally. I’m already a mess with the weed, imagine how much I’d be if I was an alcoholic.” He nearly expects you to laugh at his lame attempt at being playful, but he’s met with silence. Still, he doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows quirk slightly upward at his words. Right now, dark hair tousled and dark ripped jeans decorating his legs, Mark thinks he looks pretty good. But you don’t seem to be as interested as girls in the past.

“You smoke…” Your words trail and Mark finds himself enraptured by the form of your lips as you talk. His mind flies, but you continue, “How’s that like?”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. Just fun. I have some right now if you want,” he says, patting his jean pocket.

“Oh, no,” you immediately recoil, as if it were preposterous. Immediately your eyes widen and you shake your head at him. “Not-not that people who do it are bad or anything! It’s just… not my thing.”

If you didn’t drink or enjoy any substances, what were you doing here? He asks this aloud.

“My roommate dragged me,” you explain. “We’ve only been living together for a week since the year started but she’s… something else. I’ve seen her smoke more than I’ve seen her study.”

You almost sound scared. This causes a laugh to leave his lips, and yours. He’s finding, in the mere two minutes of conversation you’ve made, that you are very different from the girl he thought you were across the room. You were indeed like your dress that attracted him: bright, pure, and comfortable.

And he wants you.

Your silence brings about Mark’s introduction. “I’m Mark, by the way.” His hand stretches out to you and you stare for a second.

“Y/N.” You place your hand in his, and from the jolt he feels in his heart, the first of its kind, that is the first time that Mark Lee believes in the existence of fate.

—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.

If someone had told Mark in his freshman year of high school that he would become a drug dealer in college, he would have directed them to his father’s church and told them to pray a bit.

Yes, prior to his entrance to adulthood and the cruel, cruel world, Mark Lee was a church boy. A good boy. He did well in school, dedicated his weekends to church and playing basketball with his boys. Up and down the high school halls, his signature laugh could be heard at any moment he wasn’t in class.

Then the summer before his senior year, Pastor Lee passed from cancer and Mark’s boisterous laughter became a long forgotten sound.

It was two weeks after his dad’s funeral that he met Donghyuck, a boy with shady eyes who offered him some kush. Just want to try it, Mark had tried to reason with his conscience when he took that first hit behind the school. Then he fell into the fatal world of drugs and partying. Lucas had been there since their junior high days, sad to see his friend fall so poorly, and he had forced Mark to get his shit together for graduation that year. Barely.

So yes, he was once the bright eyed boy he always wanted to be, who read the Bible front to back and wouldn’t have known how to roll a joint, but that was fantasy. He wasn’t that anymore. He’s a college student trying to get along with the little money he can make from selling weed and other things. He had first gotten into this when he met Johnny Seo, two years above him who could tell that Mark was struggling to make tuition and rent with a job at McDonald’s. Now Johnny has graduated and Mark is still doing his dirty work for him.

That’s exactly what he’s doing now, standing outside Taeyong’s house a little past 6PM with a pouch of kush in his bag.

It’s easy money, but that never calms his nerves.

Even when the door opens to reveal Taeyong, shirtless and red hair in disarray, Mark doesn’t stop bouncing his foot in worry. His restlessness isn’t lost on Taeyong, who had obviously just woken up. “It’s 6PM,” Mark says, eyebrow raised at his appearance.

“I was up all night working on a track.” Taeyong’s eyes flicker to Mark’s bouncing foot. “You’re bouncier than normal,” he comments as he counts his bills in his hand.

“Haven’t had my fix today.” Mark explains simply as the older male hands over a wad of cash. As he counts it silently, Taeyong points his thumb over his shoulder to his living room.

“Wanna come in and hit some?”

Mark looks up at his offer and sighs inwardly. It would be rather easy to just give in and smoke a bit with someone he trusted, and he wouldn’t even be paying for the weed. He’s tempted. After weeks of being stoned nearly every day, he’s starting to itch for a fix. But Lucas’ gruff voice rings in his mind and he knows that if he gives in, only five hours in, he’ll never be able to live with himself. So for now he does it for Lucas, but maybe in time he’ll see that it was for himself after all.

“I’m good.” Mark nearly shoves the pouch of green into Taeyong’s grasp, wanting to be away from it as soon as possible. The red-haired recipient only blinks.

“You’re giving it up or something?”

“Or something,” mumbles Mark sullenly, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“That’s good,” Taeyong declares after a short silence. Mark looks up, meeting Taeyong’s suddenly sincere eyes. “Good for you. I really couldn’t believe that you got into that stuff with Johnny’s crowd anyways.” Mark only shrugs in response. He’d long since stopped deliberating over that. This is his life now. “Still doing music?”

“In name, yeah, I’m still a music major. But I don’t have time to play.” The last time he touched his guitar was this morning when he had kicked it. The last time before that… he doesn’t know if he can’t remember due to a marijuana induced haze or if it’s because it really has been that long.

Taeyong continues. “You know, you don’t have to do this stuff. You’re a talented guy, you’re strong. If you could dedicate yourself to your music like you do to dealing, you wouldn’t need to deal.”

This brings about a sigh from Mark. Who is Taeyong to tell him what to do, anyways? Last time he checked, he was the customer, not Mark. “You all make it sound so easy.”

“Trust me. You can do it.”

—THE FIRST KISS

The first time Mark kisses you, it’s cold outside.

He’s walking you back to your sharehouse, down the streets of town, when he asks, “Be honest with me and tell me if that date sucked.”

It’s been a couple weeks since the two of you first met that fated night at Doyoung’s party, and you’ve only now allowed him to take you out on a date. He doesn’t know that it’s your first. Well, in some ways, it’s his also.

Mark’s been on a few dates, sure, but those all ended up with him getting his dick wet in the dark parking lot of a Burger King or something. He’d normally take them out for fast food, and finish with the usual fun stuff in his back seat. This time it’s… different. Not only does he figure that you wouldn’t be down for that type of date, but something in him wants it to be different. The only problem is he doesn’t know how to plan a good date.

He still took you out to get McDonalds’, but instead of retreating to the backseat, he drove the two of you to the movie theatre. It was probably a dumb choice of him in hindsight, deciding to watch an action movie, but something about the way you hid your face into his neck when one of the characters got punched out made him smile.

“No, it wasn’t… bad,” you respond, swinging your interlaced hands. You had surprised him earlier when you had grabbed his hand upon exiting his car, curling your fingers together.

“You’re lying,” he sighs.

“No, I’m not. Really,” you reassure him as the two of you approach the door of your home. After all, how can you have a bad date when you’ve never been on a date before? You have nothing to compare it to. “I had a good time. Actually… it was my first date.”

Mark blinks, having not expected that to be so. A groan leaves his lips as his free hand comes up to run through his hair. “Oh god, and I ruined it.”

“No, no, it was perfect. I wouldn’t change it for anything.” You smile a sickeningly sweet, charming smile at him, and he sighs. You’re too good for a guy like him.

He’s beyond surprised actually—even though you know of his habits, his hobby of wasting time and rolling joints, you haven’t run away like others. And he likes you. A lot. Even though everything tells him that what he does is bad for you, he still wants you. You’re a comfortable presence in his life.

“You know,” you suddenly start. Mark looks up, intrigued. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

He wonders if the surprise on his face is painfully evident. “Really? Like, ever?”

His question is met with a shake of your head, and he blinks. So you’ve never drank or smoked. That, he can believe. But the fact that you’ve never kissed anyone? Sometimes… you shock him with your boldness. Like earlier when you grabbed his hand and at your first meeting when you had asked for his phone number before he could. But in some moments like now, he realizes just how the duality of your personality comes into play.

“Why’s that?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, it never really felt right,” you explain as the two of you approach your doorstep. As he escorts you up the steps and to your front door, he furrows his brows deeper. Why were you telling him this?

“Does it feel right, now?” He asks softy, gaze flickering to your interlaced hands as he turns to face you. His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek, the touch soft despite the callused skin of his hands.

“Yes,” you respond gently, simpering smile on your roseate tiers.

The smile on your face is sweet and pure, two words that Mark isn’t.

A flood of relief shows on Mark’s face, and you bite down on your lower lip as excitement bubbles in your stomach. “Can I kiss you?” A response quickly follows. For some reason he can’t quite figure out, you let him into the maze that is you. Despite the leather jacket, his messy hair, and the lingering smell of weed on his clothes, you want him just as much as he wants you. Even though you both know that he isn’t the type of guy that you normally like, the type of guy that your mother would approve of, you trust him. It’s bewildering to him.

Then he guides you to him. Within seconds his lips are on yours, and you melt into him. It’s surely not Mark’s first kiss but it feels like it. The initial awkwardness, then the heat on his cheeks as you both fall into a rhythm. It feels right, like it was meant to be, just as Mark had hoped.

You’re like the kind of irreplicable drug that Mark has sought after for years. The kind that brings a euphoric high which burns his lungs and twists his stomach, but in all the right ways.

—29 HOURS CLEAN.

The smell filling the kitchen leads Lucas to scrunch his nose in distaste when he exits his room. “Dude, what the hell is that smell?”

His answer lies in the pan on the stove and Mark standing in the kitchen, wielding a wooden spoon. Clad in only basketball shorts, he looks absolutely foreign to the environment. Lucas sighs. “Please tell me you’re not boiling crack right here in our kitchen.”

The face the Korean makes is scandalized. “What—no, what the fuck? It’s mapo tofu. I’d be insane to try and make crack cocaine.” He adds under his breath, “In the apartment.”

Lucas leans back against the counter, cocking an eyebrow. “Then why are you cooking mapo tofu of all things? I haven’t seen you eat anything but ramen and eggs probably since we moved in here. And—put on a shirt if you’re cooking, or an apron at least. You look like a caveman.”

“Well,” sounds Mark with a roll of his eyes at his friend’s expected lecturing. “I had a shirt on, but I spilled some spicy shit on it and took it off. And I,” he pauses, turning off the stove. “I thought we could eat your favorite food together before we head out to Hendery’s party. You know, as a… sorry for being a bitch yesterday apology.”

The taller man narrows his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of his best friend’s words. “So you… decided to make my favorite food because you felt bad that I had to wake you up and take care of your shit?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Lucas laughs, a deep sound, whilst shaking his head. “Dude, I’ve been doing that since middle school and you’re only apologizing now?”

Mark purses his lips, making a face of annoyance. “Better late than never.”

“I guess. But sorry, I wouldn’t want to eat your mapo tofu anyways. Smells more like my week’s laundry than food. Maybe next time just order from that Chinese place around the corner that I actually like,” advises Lucas.

A pitiful laugh leaves Mark’s lips. “Duly noted.”

“And anyways, I’m not going to Hendery’s party. I have plans.” This causes Mark to finally take a good look at his friend. He’s normally well-dressed, but tonight he looks even better, a little too fancy for the typical college frat party. Before Mark can even question what these other plans are, Lucas explains, “I have a date with—”

“Yuqi,” finishes Mark for him. “Figured.” Lucas grabs his wallet on the counter, nodding before tucking it into his pant pocket. “Is that why you haven’t been partying with us? Or why you’ve suddenly been on this, ‘Mark, sobriety is key’ rant?” Mark questions, lowering his voice to imitate that of his roommate’s. At Lucas’ silence, Mark scoffs. “Dude, your relationship is so fucked up, how many times are you guys going to try to make it work when it doesn’t?”

All that leaves Lucas is a sigh, but Mark continues. “This is what, your third breakup so far? And fourth time trying to make it work?”

“Some things are worth the effort,” replies Lucas easily, slipping on his shoes. As he reaches to tie his laces, Mark continues, “She takes up all of your time now, you haven’t hung with us in months, and all for a relationship that’s destined to fail.”

“Nothing’s destined to fail, Mark. It’s all about how hard you’re willing to work for it.” His voice is calm, but there’s something building beneath it. To this, Mark sighs, and says, “You’ve changed, man.”

Lucas grabs his keys, clearly at the limit with Mark’s prodding. “Sometimes people are worth changing for, Mark. Yuqi forgave me for what I did, and I forgave her for what she did. We’re trying, okay? We’re not walking away. I’m sure…” The taller male pauses on his words, as though contemplating them, before continuing. “I’m sure Y/N would’ve forgiven you for what you did, but you walked away. And that’s where we’re different.”

It hits him, and Mark tightens his jaw. Yes, his relationship with Y/N was destined to fail too, there was no denying it. To fight with his friend who he had just tried to make amends with, or apologize? He goes with the latter, only because he’s too exhausted for a yelling match right now. “Lucas, I’m sorry, okay? I’m a little… on edge.”

“I know. I’ve known you for years,” chuckles Lucas softly. “I know how you get.”

“Yeah. Have fun on your date, though.”

His best friend nods tightly. “Yeah, I will. But if you care about what I told you, don’t go to the party tonight. You know you won’t be able to control yourself.” Mark nods, sighing. “And throw out that mapo tofu while you’re at it. It stinks, and not in the good way mapo tofu’s supposed to smell.”

Mark rolls his eyes while Lucas’ laugh fills his ears. “Just leave already.”

With a few smooth movements he’s already slid out the apartment door. A sigh leaves him, alone in the apartment. He does as Lucas says, tossing his attempt at dinner in the trash. It’s gonna be a long night.

—THE FIRST TASTE.

The first time that you kiss Mark, however, it’s hot inside his apartment and sweat sticks the fabric of your tank top to your stomach.

That doesn’t stop you from cuddling on his couch however, and you gaze up at him from your position under his arm to watch as your boyfriend, focused on the TV, lifts his blunt to his lips and takes a long drag. Underneath his arm, you observe how his lips wrap around the circumference of it, sucking in a sharp breath before releasing it into the air. He knows that over your time together, you’ve come to accept the smoking. It’s obviously clear to him that you don’t particularly approve, but Mark’s responsible enough to control himself. Now however, as you gaze up at him, you realize just how attractive your boyfriend is. Dark hair tousled and arms bared through his tank top, he looks so, so good. Somehow, he looks even better with the cig in his hand.

You never would have thought you’d fall for such a guy like him, but you keep falling. He’s not the good guy that you dreamed of, but that’s okay, because you make him good.

“Mark?” You ask, still looking up at him.

He hums in response, turning to look at you.

Your voice is soft as you ask, “Do you believe in destiny?”

Your boyfriend blinks at the sudden question. “Define destiny.”

“That like, we all have a predetermined fate. That everything happens for a reason, and every challenge is just a small piece in a bigger puzzle. That we all have soulmates we’re destined to be with.” Mark’s lips purse, pouting just the slightest in thought, a habit of his.

Does he?

It’s a question, because he used to. He used to be a good old Christian boy, of course he believed that God had a plan for everyone. Every tribulation was just something that would make him stronger in the end. Unfortunately, the last time Mark can remember being at church, he fucked one of the choir girls in the Bible study room.

He can’t really pinpoint when he stopped believing in fate. God? Yeah, sure he still believes in him, though the big guy upstairs will probably send him south for his irrefutable sins. But fate? Not really. If fate was real then it was really messed up to make him such a failure.

But, he realizes, gazing at the strands of hair matted to your forehead as a result of the hot summer weather, and the pure adulation in your eyes as you gaze up to him, that perhaps because of you, his destiny isn’t too bad. Sure, he’s a fuck up with addictions and demons, but he does pretty well by keeping you happy. Because you make him happy. A smooth, suave smile spreads across his lips like butter. “I didn’t before, but I do now.”

Your eyebrow perks up. “Now you do? Why’s that?”

His arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders allows him to pull your face close. With the same smile, he presses a number of kisses to your cheek (much to your sweet protest, complaining about his sweat and smoke). As though he attempts to mask his words against your skin, he mumbles, “Because I found you.”

Mark has never told you that he loves you; it’s a bit too intimate for him, who’s never been vulnerable in that way, and you, whose every first is him.

But he doesn’t have to say it, because you know it.

Your lips break out into a flustered smile, though you try to hide it from him. His quiet, unsaid confession fills you with glee and more importantly, confidence.

“Babe,” you tell him. This grabs his attention, because you rarely use such sweet nicknames. He attempts to respond, but you’re already sitting up and swinging yourself over to straddle his lap. Your movement brings about confusion on his features, and you take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position with him, but the first time you’ve made the initiative to do it yourself. Mark was always leading you. So you lean forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you kiss him.

You can probably taste the smoke on your tongue, but you’ve grown accustomed to that. Mark kisses back and grips your waist with his free hand, both shocked and amused by your sudden courage. Everything feels right, it’s like it’s destiny. He’s about to slip his tongue into your mouth but you break the connection, choosing instead to linger your lips over his. Your breath is hot on his as you finally speak.

“I want a puff.”

“Are you sure?” He looks up at you, nearly breathless at the sight of you atop him. Lip gloss smeared from your heated kiss, you look delectable. Your wide eyes, once depicting innocence, are now focused and curious. He knows you don’t necessarily approve of his habits, but here you are, sitting on top of him looking irresistible and asking for a taste.

“Yes,” you confirm, as though reassuring yourself. Mark had always liked you, been attracted to you because of the notion that you were innocent, pure, bright. Everything he was not. He had never wanted to taint you, yet his confession still hangs in the air.

But as he lifts his blunt to his mouth, taking a long drag before blowing the diluted smoke into your waiting cavern, he starts to worry that this would be the beginning of a long downward spiral which would place no blame anywhere but on him.

—44 HOURS CLEAN.

The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM.

Mark wakes in a cold sweat, itching for a fix. That’s when he realizes how deep he really is.

Shit.

His fingers are shaking, so he moves to occupy them with the only thing he can think of. He drags himself out of bed, grabs his guitar, and makes his way out to the living room. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a window, he attempts to refamiliarize himself with the strings that he had abandoned. Lucas is still asleep, so he plucks quietly.

He has long since forgotten what it was like to lose himself in the sound.

There was once a time when he was passionate for something other than haze. It was music. The first time he touched a guitar, magic sprung through his fingers and he knew: he was made for this. Somehow, majoring in music composition and being forced to take so many theory and history classes had caused his passion to simmer. Now, it slowly burns again.

He doesn’t realize how the hours pass and the sun begins to shine between the blinds.

His mind brushes over what Taeyong had told him two days ago. Is this what he had been missing all this time? All the hours he spent blinded by a foggy smoked haze, had he been neglecting his own love for music? It’s amazing what he can accomplish when he takes a break from that life.

He starts to feel like the old Mark again.

For a second, he stops strumming and directs his gaze to outside the window. There’s not much to see except the college town, with the glimpse of the university itself just atop the hill, but he stares and relishes in the sight of the sunlight casting a glow over the town.

A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.

A glance to the clock tells him it’s barely 9AM. Who would be here so early? There are two options, he decides as he stands from the floor to stretch his legs, resting his guitar on the wall. It’s either Yuqi, Lucas’ renowned off-again on-again girlfriend, or Johnny coming to deliver the week’s set.

When he opens the door, the visitor’s face is blocked by a box, but he knows those shoes. Those white ballet flats with purple bows were always your favorite.

Suddenly the box lowers and Mark is finally face to face with you, his ex-girlfriend. He hasn’t seen your face in the months since you’ve called it quits, even though he’s spent countless moments just staring at the leftover pictures on his phone. You look surprised to see him.

“Oh—Mark. Lucas said you probably wouldn’t be awake.” So you had been keeping in touch with Lucas? This is news to him. Had his best friend been sharing that he had been basically wasting away the past few months without you?

“Couldn’t sleep,” explains Mark almost sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. For a moment he’s glad he had the mind to put on a shirt before coming outside.

“Oh…” You trail, your gaze traveling down to the box absentmindedly.

He doesn’t mean to be rude, but the surprise at seeing you on his doorstep makes him a bit gruff. You’re still the same as before: same face, same shoes, same bright eyes. But there’s something about you, about your aura that’s different. More mature. More independent. Because you don’t need him anymore. “What are you doing here?”

If you’re taken aback by his coarseness, you don’t show it. “I brought a box of your stuff. It’s just... stuff that was left at my house.” You gesture to the box in your hands, and Mark is quick to take it from your arms. He prays you don’t take note of the way his hands shake.

Slowly he places it on the floor next to the door and when he stands again, you’re leaning back and forth on your heels looking rather awkward. He doesn’t ask for an explanation but you give one anyways. You had always had a habit of talking too much when you felt nervous. “I’ve had it since...” Your breakup, but neither of you want to say it. “I put it together a couple months ago but put off bringing it over. But I figured, uh, the school year’s over in a couple weeks so I should just do it. I texted Lucas, he said he’d be awake to grab it but..”

“He’s still asleep,” Mark completes for you.

“Yeah,” you say simply. No longer having a box to occupy your hands, you hold them behind your back which only furthers the idea that you’re uncomfortable in his presence. It makes him sad almost, how much things have changed.

He thinks back to what Lucas had told him at the start of the weekend. Maybe it was possible to change things back to the way they used to be. “Do you want to come inside? I have some coffee, or some—”

You look at him with blinking eyes. “I don’t dr—”

“I know.” He knows you don’t drink coffee. Of course he does. “I have tea. It’s even peppermint, your favorite.”

“You drink peppermint tea?” You look at him, incredulous.

“I don’t. It’s leftover from when I bought it for you. I just... haven’t thrown it out yet.”

That’s what your love had done to him: turned him from a brooding boy into a softened man, so much that he was willing to keep your favorite drink around just in case you’d ever come back and want it.

“Oh,” you sound. Your teeth bite down gently on your bottom lip, gnawing it in contemplation as you look away from him momentarily. When you look back, he can see you’ve made your decision. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mark. I’m sorry.”

He expected it, but it doesn’t sting any less. “That’s okay. I understand.” An attempt at a smile is displayed on his face, but it doesn’t reflect any of the radiance in the smile that you mirror back at him. It’s small, the tips of your lips barely lifting, but it’s enough to remind him that you are indeed all that is good in the world, and he needs you. He loves you.

Maybe he can’t love you right now but one day, he’ll be good enough to deserve you. That day isn’t today, but it’ll come eventually. “I’ll see you around,” you say to him.

“I hope so,” is his response.

You give him another small smile before turning to leave. “I hope you’re doing okay, Mark.”

He is, or he’s trying to. When you leave, he closes the door and returns the box to his bedroom before opening it up. Inside, numerous hoodies gifted to you because they became too small for him but were still huge on you. Old songbooks from his high school days that he no longer needed. A teddy bear he had gifted you on your first anniversary.

Pushing the box aside, he grabs a notebook and his music theory textbook. Maybe it actually would do him some good to study.

—THE FIRST TEAR.

“What the hell, Mark?”

You don’t curse often, so when you do, it wakes him. When you find him in his room, he’s knocked out with his body half on the bed and the other half slung over the edge. His hair sticks out in numerous fluffy tufts over his pillow, but you can still smell the weed off of him.

“He only came back like, three hours ago.” He hears Lucas’ voice selling him out, and he groans into the pillow, only lifting his head to grumble at his roommate.

“Snitch bitch,” he says, his voice groggy and scratched.

“Don’t get mad at him,” you suddenly speak up. “At least he answered my calls when I was calling, worried where you were because you hadn’t texted me since,” you stop to check your phone. “5PM last night!”

“I told you, I was going to Johnny’s party,” responds Mark, sitting up in his bed, head still spinning. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up, looking rather disheveled and hungover.

“Yeah, and you never texted me to let me know you were home. How would I have known if you had overdosed, or passed out drunk, or got in a car accident? Or just died?” As your voice rises, reaching a volume you’ve rarely ever employed, you clear your throat to calm yourself and turn to Lucas. “Thanks, Lucas. I appreciate it.”

“Any time,” he responds, giving a nod before walking away, likely disappearing into his room.

When you turn back to gaze into Mark’s room, he’s slipped on a shirt. “What the hell were you doing out so late? 9AM is when you should be waking up, Mark, not falling asleep. Finals are next week, you were supposed to meet me at the library an hour ago!”

He makes an annoyed expression at your chastising, and you gaze at him with expectant eyes, awaiting an explanation. All he does is grimace and say, “Babe, can you like, quiet down? I’m hungover, your voice is too loud.”

Your jaw drops.

For a moment you stay like that, until you continue speaking, words coming out faster than Mark can understand them. “I’m just trying to help, Mark. You’ve partied more than you’ve studied this year, and I’m not going to let you just get away with it. Almost every weekend I have to stay up worrying about you, wondering when you’ll get home, unable to sleep until you text me that you’re home and okay.”

“Maybe you should stop worrying then,” he retorts.

“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”

He rolls his eyes, laying back in his bed. “Maybe you should come with me then.”

You quickly reply, “Maybe you should stop partying.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to control me,” he finally spits.

Once again, you’re rendered speechless. And when you turn your head away, focusing your gaze to the hallway instead of at him, Mark thinks he’s won. But then you sniff, an indication that your sensitive heart has once again been touched with tears. “Please,” you finally say, voice weak. This is the timbre Mark is used to hearing from you, not the tone you had used earlier when yelling at him. In this moment, he’s not sure which one he hates more. “Please stop this.”

In a swift movement you reach forward, gathering yourself on your knees before his bed. You grab his hand, pressing your lips to it as a tear makes its way down your cheek. “Please, please, please… please stop the drugs, Mark. It’s made you this… this terrible person and I know you’re not like this.” Suddenly, you’re crying into the palm of his hand while he gazes at you in surprise. “Missing dates, staying out late, yelling, I know that’s not you.”

“Y/N—”

“Please, just call Johnny and tell him you can’t do this anymore. Tell him you’re done. Please, for me.”

Your begging causes Mark’s jaw to tighten subconsciously. What you’re hoping for is a better Mark, a different person. He’s not that person that you want him to be, he can never be that way. This is how he is and how he’ll always be. This is his fate, to be a lowlife drug dealer barely passing college, and if you can’t handle it then—“You know I can’t do that. You promised you’d be here through everything, all the good and the bad.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you destroy yourself like this, Mark.”

He rips his hand from your grasp, causing a slight squeak of surprise to leave your lips. It’s almost as if he’s not in control of himself, because he blows up. “Can’t you just be like a good girlfriend and love me through the bad shit? I’m trying my best here.”

But is he really? Suddenly, as though empowered by some kind of intangible strength, you rise to your feet, the sadness in your eyes now quickly replaced by anger. “I do love you, that’s why I’m acting like this, you asshole!” You wipe your tears furiously with the back of your hand before glowering down at him. “But if you can’t keep your mind sober long enough to see that then call me when you can.”

He registers the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, causing it to ring in his ears. Within the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Fate is a really messed up bitch for this.

—1 WEEK CLEAN.

It’s been a week.

A week since the last time he touched anything, though he had been tempted when Yuta invited him over for some sativa. The drinking and partying isn’t hard to let go of. It’s the weed, because it got him through the hardest days.

A week in, and he’s pretty proud of himself.

Nowadays, he tries to occupy his shaking hands with guitar or studying but he’s started playing so often that his hands are now raw and in pain. Today, because the weather’s nice outside and his fingers hurt like hell, he decides to take a walk.

It’s aimless at first, just exploring the streets around his apartment on foot. But then ten, fifteen, thirty minutes pass, and without knowing it, he’s arrived at his destination. Johnny’s place. Standing in front of the door, eyes boring into the bright red paint of the front door, Mark feels himself start to slip. No, he decides, he has to do this. This is the right thing.

A shaky knock on the door is followed by another stronger one. He waits a minute before trying again, yet as his hand lifts to place another knock on it, it slides open to reveal Johnny himself in casual wear. “Hey,” greets Johnny, giving Mark a nod. “What’s up? I told you I’d drop the next batch off at your place, you didn’t have to come out here.”

At Johnny’s question, Mark feels his breath caught in his throat. Not only is the guy taller than him and towering over him in every aspect, but he could definitely throw Mark under the bus for his own crimes. But no… he wouldn’t do that, right? He had done enough for Johnny over the past three years that he would let him off easily, surely? A gulp is heard in Mark’s throat as he straightens his position in front of Johnny.

“That’s the thing. I… I don’t want to do this anymore.”

For a moment, Mark thinks that the taller man will be angry. Johnny stands before him, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“I just need to.”

Johnny immediately starts to argue, tilting his head. “You know you’re my best seller, though. No one sells as much as you, and I trust you with all the big deliveries. Who am I supposed to give the heroin to now… Ten? As if, Mark.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“I…” Mark starts, though he stops. “I need to stop. I’ll finish the batch from this week, I promise. I only have like, two deliveries left but I just, it’s not healthy for me. And it’s not because I’m planning to sell you out or anything, or find someone else but I just can’t do this anymore.” He finds himself ranting, finding more interest in anything but Johnny’s face. “I’m not happy, I’m angry and anxious all the time, and being around the drugs only makes me want to do it more, and I just… I just can’t, John.”

When he finishes his unfiltered rant, he looks back to the taller male and tries to read his expression. Will he be angry? If his earlier debate was anything, he definitely wouldn’t let Mark off without a fight.

But instead, the older nods. “I get it. Just finish your deliveries for this week and call it done.”

Mark blinks at Johnny’s easy acquiescence. “T-That’s it? You’re not going to fight more?”

“You want me to?” Johnny asks, cocking an eyebrow that’s almost mocking.

“No, but I…”

“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”

“No, that’s not it.” Mark shakes his head. “I just…”

“Mark,” sighs Johnny, standing straight from where he had been leaning rather casually against the doorframe. “I’m not stupid, okay? I know that drug dealing is hard for you. And I’m also not oblivious, I know that you and your girlfriend broke up, okay? Yuta told me what happened with the coke, and I wasn’t surprised when you refused to sell it anymore.”

Mark frowns even deeper at the mention of it, but Johnny continues. “I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you say it’s not good for you, then it’s not good for you.”

“But…” Mark starts, but doesn’t find the words to continue. It was… that easy. “Okay. Uh, thanks, I guess. For everything?”

“Sure. Just don’t come crawling back when you can’t make rent on your McDonalds’ salary. Male strippers make pretty good money, if you’re interested.” It’s clear Johnny’s joking, so Mark rolls his eyes and laughs, though the sound is somewhat tight.

“I’d love to talk to you some more about ways to get a hustle going, but I have to go find a new dealer, and teach Ten how to stop giving weed to everyone he meets because he thinks they need a pick-me-up.” Johnny sighs, as though the life of a drug dealer is the most difficult of them all, which in Mark’s experience, it might just be.

“Alright. Uh, later, John.”

Johnny nods in acknowledgement before shutting the door. Mark breaths out a heavy breath.

That went… surprisingly well. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe it really was this easy all this time. Perhaps he had always just been the one believing that it was difficult, because he had made it so. He had been stressing over it all this time, but Johnny was more easygoing about it than he’d thought.

As he walks the path home, he thinks he deserves a reward for his endeavors. It’s a bit selfish maybe, but he opens his phone, and you’re on his speed dial.

“Hello?” You ask, voice bright as always but clearly a bit guarded from the name that had flashed across your screen.

“Y/N,” Mark breathes out. It’s only been a few days since you had swung by the apartment.

“Hey, uh… what’s up?”

He doesn’t quite know either. He had quite honestly been a bit impulsive in pressing on your contact, and now that you truly rest across the phone from him, he has no idea what his purpose was. “Um, nothing much, I just wanted to tell you…” A soft breath leaves his lips. Will you be happy for him? “I told Johnny that I quit, that I’m done.”

There’s a momentary pause on the line, and Mark begins to worry that you’ve hung up when you finally breathe out, “That’s good, Mark. I’m… I’m proud of you.”

Proud. He had only been hoping for a “good for you,” at most, but to hear that you’re proud of him, it makes him smile to the ground as he walks the trail back to his apartment. Fuck, you’ve made him weak. “Thanks.”

“I guess you really are doing well then,” you say.

When he gets home, riding the high of his successes from standing up to Johnny to calling you, he flushes his Xanax pills down the toilet and watches as they swirl away into oblivion, as if they had never existed in his life in the first place.

—THE FIRST CRASH.

Mark connects his lips to your neck and suckles on it softly, drawing a moan out of you. The sound you make goes straight to his dick, and he releases a breathy groan against your skin. “Fuck, you sound so pretty, princess.”

Princess—that’s the name he’s given you, because all he wants to do is treat you right. And he does, especially in times like these, where you feel the heat of his body on top of yours and he devours your moans in his mouth.

He currently lays between your spread legs, your combined figure lost in his bed sheets as he softly grinds his hardened core against yours. He’s still got his jeans on while you’re laying only clad in your panties, yet the feel of the denim is enough to have you moaning. You tilt your head back as a light mewl leaves your lips, your body subconsciously grinding down on his.

It had been complete heaven for the both of you when you had given him your virginity, your purity, at the beginning of this year, and since then you have been basically insatiable. You had never felt such desire for anyone before him. Now as his hands rub small circles over your clothed clit, you want him once more.

You’re shaking your head, so needy for him but he doesn’t relent, only smirking more while he continues rubbing sinful circles on your clit. “Tell me what you want.” He wants to hear your beg.

Voice soft and breathy, you say, “Please, Mark, I—”

The doorbell rings. It’s heard through the apartment and Mark groans, rolling his eyes while attempting to keep you going. “Keep going. It’s probably just Lucas forgetting his key again.”

Though the mood was momentarily killed, you both try to fall back into place. Now his fingers have left your clit, instead pulling your panties down to your midthigh. “Shit, you’re soaking,” he moans out in amazement, running a finger through your wet folds. As much as he wants to dive in and fuck you until you’re cumming all over his cock, he needs to hear your sweet voice dripping dirty words for him first. Easily, he slides a finger in, to which you groan at the stretch. But it’s not enough.

“Don’t tease me, please.”

He smirks, slowly sliding his singular digit out of your sensitive core whilst he thumbs your clit. “Go on then, princess. Tell me what you need.”

“Fuck,” you curse and he finds it so hot. “I… I want you to—”

The doorbell again. This time, Mark audibly curses. “Fucking hell,” he sighs, removing his fingers from where you need him. Instead, he moves up and places a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

He’s still fully dressed, so he simply opens the door and slips outside before closing it again behind him. As he’s walking down the hall, the doorbell rings once again, causing him to roll his eyes. God, how many times was Lucas going to lose his keys?

The person at the door, however, isn’t his roommate. It’s Johnny, holding a black gym bag. Mark already knows what it is. He runs a hand through his hair, already crazy from how you had been running your hands through it. “Hey, John,” he says, taking the bag clearly in a rush. It’s Sunday, which means Johnny’s dropping off Mark’s deliveries for the week.

“Hey, man,” greets Johnny, handing over the list. Mark doesn’t even bother to check that everything’s there, so the older man raises an eyebrow. “Busy?” He asks, eyeing Mark’s disheveled clothes and the fresh hickey on his collarbone.

“Kind of.”

“Nice. See you next week,” says Johnny with a click of his tongue and a wink, then Mark closes the door and he’s gone. Now, back to what’s important. He slings the strap over his shoulder and makes his way back to his bedroom. As soon as he enters, you look up at him with wide, anticipating eyes.

You’ve pulled your undergarments back on, much to his displeasure. Mark drops the dark bag on the floor in the corner, and your eyes find it. “Johnny came?”

“Yeah. Just dropping off for the week,” replies Mark, his mind not exactly on it as he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere. He moves back over your figure on the bed, lips on the curve of your breast fully intending to return things to the intensity they were at just earlier.

Though his lips trail up to meet yours and his hands begin tugging your panties back down, he can tell from the way you’re kissing him that you’re not fully there. So when you moan his name, he knows it’s not out of pleasure. “Mark,” you say softly against his lips.

“Hmm,” he responds, callused hands gripping your thighs and leading them open. He’s about to slip his hand inside your panties, but your hand stops him.

“Can I have some?” When he looks at you, your eyes are not focused on him, but the bag in the corner. Your eyes are faded, clouded as your both ascend to a place of pleasure. You… wanted drugs? Sure, he’s blown a few times in your mouth but in your relationship spanning over a year already, you’ve never directly asked for any.

His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”

You bite down on your lip. “What’s in it?”

“I don’t know,” reveals Mark truthfully as he gets off of you and makes his way over to the package, picking it up and placing it on the bed. You’re sitting up now, peering over the bag with interest as he unzips the gym bag open. Though the exterior looks unsuspicious, the bag opens up to reveal bags of white powder and green kush.

Cocaine.

It’s dangerous. Mark gazes down at it, biting down on his lip.

“Is that… cocaine?” You ask, not unaware of the extreme drug sitting in your boyfriend’s room.

He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”

A silence falls over the two of you, both just staring at the white bags. It’s almost unbearable, how much Mark wants to throw the bag away and just resume your activities, but you’re still gazing into the bag with contemplation, fear, and even… curiosity.

“So, can I have some?” You ask again.

Mark sputters for a second, blinking. “Babe. I—are you sure?”

You nod, eyes dark and curious. “Yeah.” At your confirmation, sounding like it was more to assure yourself than him, Mark stares holes into the white substance. It’s filling the bag to the brim—surely whoever he has to deliver it to won’t notice a line’s worth missing.

So it’s with steady yet hesitant hands that he pulls a pack from the bag, directing you. “Grab your credit card,” he says, walking over to his nightstand. Unzipping the bag just the slightest, he pours out a small amount. Just a little bit, he swears.

When you return to his side with your said card in your hand, he takes it from you and lines up the coke on the table. In a neat little line, it’s set up for you. “Okay,” he starts, looking at you. “Just hold down one nostril and—”

“I know how to do it. I’ve seen it at parties.” You interrupt him as you kneel, finally head level with the nightstand. It’s true; the few parties you have attended alongside your boyfriend, there’s more than enough depictions. He watches with interest as you lean forward, holding one side of your nose closed, and snort up the entire line in one go.

First, you cough into the nightstand. When you turn and look at him, you’re wiping the remaining white dust from your nose. “You okay?” Your boyfriend asks you, to which you nod. “It takes a few minutes to work.”

Again, you nod silently, sitting down on the bed and gesturing Mark to come to you. When he approaches, you lay back in his bed, looking up at him with lustful eyes. “Now, hurry up and fuck me.”

The words are so rare from you. It’s all he needs to hear, unbuckling his belt and dragging his jeans to the floor in two swift movements. Within moments he’s back on top of you, feeling your heat once again. He starts slow, pressing kisses to your stomach, breasts, and neck while waiting for the drug to take effect. He knows the exact moment that it begins to work; your pupils immediately dilate, and suddenly you’re a loose, moaning mess underneath him.

Your muscles relaxed, Mark immediately presses a long kiss to your swollen lips while dragging down your panties. He would usually opt for more foreplay, but he’s waited long enough. He pulls away for the shortest moment to slip on a condom, but before you know it he’s already flush against you again.

It feels so good, even just his touch on you. You’re so sensitive, senses heightened by the drug that you feel everything: his large hands on your breasts over your tips, his lips marking your neck. When he leads his dick to your dripping entrance, you watch in anticipation, though you’re shaking.

As he finally slides in, finally filling you up, you tilt your head back and let out a loud moan, the loudest yet. It just feels so good, you feel so full, and he’s so, so deep.

Everything is…. so good. Euphoria creeps into your headspace.

He pulls out, and you moan again. “Ah,” you gasp sharply, feeling every ridge, every muscle stretched as he slides out, only the tip inside you. Then he slams back in, causing your back to arch and your toes to curl. “Oh, fuck,” you moan out again, eyes closed tightly, lost in the pleasure.

Mark’s hand grips at your hips, eyebrows furrowed in focus as he falls into a rhythm. He would have taken some himself, but he wanted to watch you fall apart under him. Suddenly you grab at his free hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You’re squeezing him, his hand and his dick altogether, so tightly as you’re lost in your pleasure.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good,” he moans out, closing his eyes. He immediately opens them again, not wanting to miss a second of you. “You love my cock, huh?”

Breathless, you nod without words.

“And to think, just a year ago you were an innocent little prude. Now look at you, taking my cock like the slut you are. High on my drugs, fuck—” Mark taunts, moaning aloud as you suddenly clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so tight.”

When he adds his hands to your clit, rubbing the nub in circles the way he knows you love it, the pleasure is heightened for your sensitive body. Your temperature rises, your heartbeat uncontrollable—all the telltale signs of that euphoric high.

A few minutes pass like this, you completely out of it and moaning at the top of your lungs whilst your boyfriend fades in and out of your vision. You grasp onto his arm, tilting your head back. “Mark, I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he musters out, never stopping his hips. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.”

And you do, losing it as you tighten around his length, walls clenching repeatedly. This brings him over the edge, cumming into the condom with a shaky breath. He keeps the rhythm going for both your sakes, though his thrusts go erratic as he comes down.

You do the same, your thirty minutes of elation coming to an end soon. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasmic high, you immediately relax. Your breathing is labored as you relax into his sheets.

Mark pulls from you with a low groan. By the time he’s tossed the condom off into the trash and returned to his bed, you’re already asleep, chest rising softly. A post-cocaine high can do that to you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he slides into bed with you, slipping a hand over your waist.

With the way your body fits right into his, one could say you were made for each other. In Mark’s mind, maybe you were.

—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN

His hands shake as he curls the wrapping paper, giving it a soft lick to secure it.

Tomorrow will be four weeks, a whole month since the last time he had done anything. He had passed his exams. After he had thrown the pills away, he was sure that everything would be smooth sailing. But he was wrong.

He’s disappointed in himself, he is. He wanted to be better, but it’s harder than it seems. Lucas would be disappointed in him. You would be too.

Luckily, neither will find out.

Right now he’s tucked in his bedroom away from Lucas with the excuse that he was napping, but he’s not. Instead, he’s wrapping a joint with the leftover weed tucked in his nightstand.

It’s not because he wants to, or because he’s being peer pressured by anyone around him. It’s for one person only—his dad.

On this day, five years ago, Pastor Lee passed away.

The first three years, the hardest ones, he had Lucas. The past two years, he had you.

No—the first three years weren’t hardest to face, this one is. He still has Lucas, but not really. Had he swallowed his pride, had he just told his best friend that he wasn’t okay when he had asked about his father’s death anniversary, things would have been okay. Lucas would have nodded in sympathy, then dropped everything he had to be there for Mark. They’d chill and drink a couple beers—no, not drink, not anymore—but maybe watch a movie and play some games until the day had passed. That would have been bearable.

But that hadn’t happened.

When Lucas had asked Mark how he felt about the day, Mark had lied and blubbered out a, “Oh, was that today? I totally forgot.” Why had he done that? He doesn’t know.

Because he had had too much pride to admit to his friend that he was struggling… Now he’s here, trying to take care of his pain in the only way he has left.

He lights it, fingers still shaking, and his body relaxes into the mattress as he finally gets a taste of the clouded, sinful smoke once more. The only downfall to this is that he knows, oh he knows well, just how much pain that it causes for him and those around him.

—THE FIRST BURN.

Over the years, Mark has grown accustomed to the warmth.

It’s what you do to him, what he associates you with. Your first kiss, despite the cold winter air, warmed his soul from the inside. Whenever he looks at you… there’s a feeling of espousement that explodes within his chest. Yes, he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it often. He doesn’t need to. You know. You’ve opened his eyes to the beauty of love, the exhilaration of showing yourself to someone and being fully accepted. In his life once frozen over with the loss of his father and the death of his innocence, you showed him warmth.

When he wakes, you’re burning up.

More than you should, even with the two of you naked beneath his blankets. You’re sweating, he realizes as he slides his hand, which he had slung around your waist as the two of you drifted into dreamland, over your skin.

You must be hot underneath the blanket, so he starts to slide it off the blanket from your figures. Then he hears it: you cough, the choked sound coming out scratched and labored. Though you’re turned away from him, he can hear the struggle in it. It’s as if… there’s something blocking your throat.

His eyes immediately widen, adrenaline spiking as he sits up, grabs your shoulders, and turns you around. No, no, it can’t be. Where you had been laying, facing the wall, there’s remnants of your vomit, though some had gotten lodged in your throat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His fingers grab your wrist. You’re still breathing. You’ve still got a pulse, but it’s fast, too fast. So fast, he can barely count it. “Shit,” he curses. You’re overdosing. You’ve overdosed. Fuck.

It’s the cocaine.

“Y/N,” he calls, voice already loud enough to make the house burst into flames with the amount of desperation he puts into it. Shaking your shoulders, he tries again. “Y/N, baby, fuck—wake up!” When you don’t come to, he turns his head over his shoulder, screaming, “Lucas!”

It’s only the early morning, will he be awake? “Lucas!”

“Mark…?” Your voice draws him out from his panic, and he turns to you with wide eyes. Your eyes, pupils dilated and shaky, fly all over the room. “W-What’s—” You don’t finish, because immediately you’re flinging yourself over the side of his bed and throwing up the remainder of what’s in your throat out on his bedroom floor.

The door slams open. Lucas’ worried face appears. Mark is trembling, breath shaking, and you’re still vomiting over the carpet. At the moment, Mark doesn’t care that the both of you are naked in his bed. “What the hell happened?”

Mark feels himself start to slip away, only a moment from hyperventilating, but he speaks. “Hospital… cocaine—overdose, I—”

“I’ll go start the car.” Lucas is immediately out the door, loud steps running down the hallway to grab his keys. At least somebody is in a stable state of mind. Mark starts to move, standing to dress the two of you, but you grab his arm as he steps out, perhaps using the last of your energy. Your eyes are wild, your mouth parted as you heave heavy, labored breaths.

“I… I can’t breathe—Mark, I can’t,” you start between hurried breaths, but don’t finish. Immediately you go slack, falling back in his bed with closed eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“Fuck,” he curses, immediately throwing on his jeans and sliding your dress over your sweltering body. Though he’s stumbling and racing to gather things, his phone, his wallet, and your’s, he picks you up into his arms bridal style, racing out of his bedroom into the living room.

Flying out the front door, the cold morning air greets him in an unpleasant fashion, only making your perspiring body seem even warmer, reminding him of his faults. Lucas is already sitting in the front seat, ready to go, but Mark throws the two of you in the backseat. At this point you’re completely gone to the world, head thrown back against the cushion as he struggles to put on your seatbelt. It seems like an arbitrary precaution in this case.

As Lucas starts to drive, moving as fast as he can possibly go, Mark clutches your hand. “Baby,” he finally breaths out as reality begins to set in. This is his fault, he did this to you. He doesn’t deserve to hold your hand, so instead he lets go, placing it in your lap before leaning forward to place his head in his hands.

“Oh my fucking god,” he finally lets out, exasperated.

—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN

“My name is Hyunjoon, and I am addicted to alcohol. It has been… six weeks since my last drink.”

Mark bounces his leg erratically, glancing around the room. There’s some people he knows, recalling their faces on campus or around town, but some people he's never seen in his life. He’s supposed to reveal himself to these people? He doesn’t belong here.

Or maybe he does. After his last breakdown, it had taken him three days to fess up to Lucas. His friend, though disappointed, was more than understanding. “It’s a long road,” he had told Mark at the time. He said that he knew of an addiction support group in town, and encouraged Mark to attend. He’s right; Mark knows he can’t do this alone.

“Glad to see you’ve gone another week, Hyunjoon. Happy to see you back.”

He’s next, so he stands. “Um,” he starts, rubbing his nape and feeling awfully out of place. “I’m Mark, and I’m addicted to…” he sighs. “A lot of things.”

The kind looking leader of the meeting offers him a smile. “You can share if you’d like.”

He takes a deep breath. There’s so many people, so many eyes. “Mostly weed. I drink a lot, or I used to. I… I was trying to stop everything then I had a—” How to describe it? “Relapse, last week. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“We commend you for your courage, Mark.” There’s a soft round of applause in the circle. The smiling leader then continues, “We ask everyone who is new to this group, ‘why.’ Why do you want to stop your addiction? Why do you seek help? Besides the obvious reasons that it’s bad for you.”

This question doesn’t take long for him to answer. “I hurt someone. Someone that I really loved, and honestly… I hate myself for it. So I have to stop.”

There seems to be a couple of nods around the circle as Mark sits back down. He releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. This will work. Things will be okay. He will get better. He will get you back.

“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”

—THE FIRST REGRET.

Mark finds himself in the same position he had been in earlier in the car, except this time he’s sitting on the floor right outside your room on the hospital floor, hiding his head in his hands. What is wrong with him?

What had he done to you? What had he allowed you to do to yourself?

God, he’s fucked up.

Lucas is inside with you. He had wanted to be there when you woke up, but he couldn’t. He could barely look at his face in the hospital bathroom mirrors; how was he supposed to face you, IVs hooked up to your arms as a result of the drugs that he gave you? It was supposed to be fine, it was just a little bit! It was supposed to help the experience you two were having. But instead, it almost ended your life.

He looks back now. Just two years ago, when you had first met, you didn’t even drink. You’d never been kissed, never been touched. Now he’s… done this to you. He’s despicable. You don’t deserve him. You deserve better.

The door opens, and Mark finally pulls his head up to see Lucas step out with a somber expression. It’s a stark juxtaposition that saddens him, for Lucas is so often the light hearted joking one of the two. “She wants to see you.”

Mark parts his lips, shaky breath exhaling. “I can’t.”

Lucas takes a seat next to him on the floor, sighing. He probably looks crazy, shirtless and puffy eyed on the floor, but his best friend moves next to him anyways. “I know. She’s not angry, you know.”

“That’s the worst part,” mumbles Mark, staring out at the bleak white walls of the hospital in front of them. He doesn’t say much, but Lucas understands him it seems.

“Something’s gotta change, Mark. Something’s gotta give.”

He knows, with a soft nod of his head. Of course, he knows what Lucas means, but what it means to him is different. He has to give something up, and it’s going to be you. Not because he can live without you or because he doesn’t love you, but because it needs to be you. You can’t be around him any longer. You’ll only continue to be hurt.

When this thought finally occurs, and he accepts it, it becomes a little easier to face you.

He rises to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll see you later,” he finally says, twisting the doorknob to your room open.

—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN

He doesn’t know why you asked to see him for lunch, but he does know that you look good. You look healthy, you look better than you did that day when he slipped into your hospital room and saw you there, laying lifeless and gray. But that day, you still smiled when you saw him.

You look rather happy, like you’re doing okay without him, though he hopes that’s not that case—no, that’s not a good thing to hope for. He hopes that you’re doing okay, but that you’ll be even happier when you’re together again. Again, you smile at him over your food. Even after all this time, you still look at him like he’s the center of your universe.

Though you had made small talk about your lives, what you were both doing, how your mom is, how Lucas is, and other unimportant things, it’s at the end of the meal when your voice finally sobers, though you keep a smile on your lips.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you out here.”

“I…” Mark starts, blinking, before nodding. “Yeah.”

You laugh, causing the slightest smile to break out across his lips. It’s still the same laugh you had, that fated night when you met. “I just wanted to see you again. And talk. We haven’t talked in a while.”

Mark’s smile turns into a bittersweet simper. “I thought that was because you didn’t want to talk.” Though you had spoken to him on that phone that one day, he had chalked that up to you being polite when he suddenly called.

“Well, at first, yeah, but you know it’s been almost a year since we broke up and… I had some things I wanted to tell you.” Him too, but he’s not entirely sure he’s at his best just yet. Nevertheless, he smiles and nods.

“I’m listening. You know I always am.”

You take a moment or two to simply stare at him with thoughtful eyes as you think over your words. All the while, your sweet smile never leaves your roseate tiers. Finally, hands folded over your lap, you start.

“Thank you.”

Mark blinks, but you continue. “I know that we didn’t end off on the best terms but I wanted to make sure you knew that I was thankful for you. For having you. You’ve done a lot for me. You’ve taught me a lot, and I can’t thank you more for everything you’ve done.”

You blink repeatedly, eyes fluttering before you continue, which leads Mark to think that these words might be just as emotional for you as they are for him. “Thank you for teaching me love. Because of you, I’ve grown a lot and become a better version of myself. A stronger one. I’m really thankful that you were my first everything: my first real date—” His mind flies back to that night. That movie really was a horrible movie.

“My first kiss.” Does it feel right, now? Yes. Can I kiss you? Yes.

“My first time.” It was awkward, but it felt, as it always did, right.

“Thank you, for being the first guy I loved. I really… really loved you, Mark. But most of all,” you say, gazing at his wordless figure with those eyes of yours. They’re not as innocent and naive as they used to be. They’re matured now, hardened, but still, the sparkle is there. The same sparkle that had attracted him that night, three years ago, with that damned white dress.

“I forgive you.” Mark releases a shaky breath. “For everything. I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault, really. I’m better now, I’m healthy. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore because of me.”

“Y/N, I—”

“I met you in my first year here. We’re going to be seniors, Mark. We’re going to graduate and be thrown into the real world, where there’s real consequences. I don’t want the consequences of what happened to weigh you down. I just want to move on, and you deserve to move on too.” From the glint in your eye, it’s clear how long you’ve pondered over these words.

He wants to reach out to you, to grasp you and bring you back to him. Because he’s trying to let go of the past so that he can focus on loving you fully as you are.

Sure, you can forgive him, but he needs to forgive himself first. He’s not quite fully well yet. He has to be patient.

A soft exhale leaves his lips. “Thank you. For forgiving me.”

Yet another sweet, beautiful smile spreads across your lips. It’s the smile that haunts Mark’s dreams. “You’re welcome. And thank you again for everything.” As the waitress appears, returning Mark’s credit card that he had graciously used to pay for the meal, you stand with your bag.

No, you can’t be leaving just yet. “Stay in touch, okay, Mark?”

But he has to let you leave. The day will come when it’s right. “Yeah,” he manages, swallowing the lump in his throat. Yet as he watches you walk away, he can feel that that string of fate he had always believed tied the two of you together slowly wearing, twisting, breaking.

—THE FINAL TEAR.

“What do you mean we should break up?”

Your voice is scandalized, angry. Mark simply keeps his gaze to the living room floor, eyebrows furrowed in complete unhappiness. He never wanted it to end like this, but he’s run horrible with thoughts that the things he did brought pain to you. It’s time to end it. Not because he wants to, but because he should.

“We just should,” he responds bleakly. “After what happened, I think it’s clear that we’re not good for each other.”

It’s been a month now since you’ve been discharged from the hospital. After you had convinced your doctor that you weren’t addicted to drugs and in need of rehab, you had gone home. Mark had luckily had enough saved to pay off your hospital bills; neither of you wanted your parents knowing. “Mark, it’s okay. I told you it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not. It’s not just because of the overdose. Things have been like this for a while now.”

You attempt to grab his hand. If he allows himself to bask in just one moment of your kindness, he’ll give in. You beg, “Mark, please, hang on for me, for us. I promise things will get better, things can change.”

He snaps, pulling his hand from your’s. Your eyes widen up at him, shocked and appalled at his sudden movement. “No! Can’t you see? You didn’t even take that much. I took more coke in my first snort than you took in that entire line. The overdose shouldn’t have even happened, but look, it did. This is wrong.”

“What, the drugs? I’ve been telling you that. Please, we can get better. We can find help.” The fact that you’re still pleading him with kind, gentle eyes, makes this all worse. It only further proves that you’re good. He’s not.

“No, not the drugs. Us.”

“Us?”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head in frustration. “We’re not right for each other. This isn’t working.”

“What do you mean? Tell me why.”

“We’re just not… destined to be together. What happened, it was God’s way of telling us that this is not right. We’re not right for each other,” he explains, voice exasperated as he tries his best to explain the mess of his thoughts.

This seems to take you aback, your voice finally rising. “Oh, so now you care what God thinks?”

No, not really. But sometimes he has to listen. He doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I’ve been more than willing to make this work for two years, Mark. You think any of this was easy for me? My first boyfriend and he’s a freaking drug dealer for God’s sake. I tried to take it all because I loved you! I took care of you when you were hungover, I waited around shady areas at night so that you could drop off deals, I stuck with you for everything. Fuck,” you shout, causing Mark to tense. You rarely curse, and based on your usage of it now, he knows just how upset you are. “I even overdosed and I’m still here. Yet it’s always you pushing me away, making it difficult. Why are you running away from us?”

He’s not running away. “I’m not running away,” he declares. “I’m letting you run away.”

“And what makes you think I need to run away from you?”

“Because! You heard yourself, don’t deserve those things. You should have someone to take care of you when you’re sick, not always be the one fixing me when I’m sick. You should have someone to walk with you through the shady areas. That’s not me. I’m not… right for you.” He finally spits it out, eyebrows tightened together as he releases the thoughts that have been on his mind for a month now.

You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words with your arms crossed over your chest. When you speak, your voice has returned to its normal speaking volume. “You told me that you believed in fate, that you believed in us. Is this fate? Fate that we met, and fell in love, and broke up? Is it fate that you hurt me over and over again and I came back, every single time? Because if that’s fate…” A single tear falls from your eyes, though you wipe it away so it’s as if it never even existed. It seems even you have some pride now, not to cry in front of him. “It seems like your idea of fate is pretty messed up.”

Mark takes a large breath, looking away to gather his thoughts before looking back to you. You’ve both come so far since that night, the image of her clouded by the purple lights, the energy of the party. Now, all that glamour is stripped away. It’s just you and him, as you are. “You had to meet someone like me, so you can know what you deserve.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to call it quits, and blame it on destiny?” Your tone is mocking, questioning his reasons and probably his sanity.

“I’m not calling it quits,” he immediately retorts, responding sharp and quick. “I’m letting you go.”

“No,” you say as you approach him. “You’re giving up. On us, on everything we worked hard to build. Our trust, our relationship, everything.” Your finger digs into his chest, pointing an accusing blame. “I broke up with you,” you emphasize. “Not the other way around. I broke up with you because you tugged me around, you pushed me away, and you never listened to me. I got tired of it, and broke up with you.”

With that, you pull away from him, though when he finally comes to realize the weight of the conversation you just had, he sees you grabbing your bag and slipping your white ballet flats with purple bows on. “Y/N.”

He wants to say he’s sorry, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go up in flames.

Whenever you walked out during arguments, there was always a promise to call later, to talk when your minds were stable. But now, as you turn over your shoulder, walking out of his apartment and life, you muster a goodbye.

“Don’t call me.”

—3 MONTHS CLEAN.

“Senior year!” Lucas yells as he throws open the front door with the power of the Hulk, startling Mark who’s still unpacking some boxes of cookware in the kitchen. “It’s our time, time to shine!”

A soft laugh leaves Mark as he places some cups in the cupboard. He and Lucas had left their apartment for two months for the summer to return to their homes, but here they are, back and ready to take on their final year. They had finished middle school and high school together, and now they’ll graduate college together. It makes Mark smile.

As he leaves the kitchen to greet his best friend in the living room, he sees that the guy has already brought in a number of his boxes. “Hey, man,” calls Mark, who leads Lucas in for a dap.

“Hey yourself, you barely talked to me this summer,” Lucas chastises playfully. “Ignoring me, I see.”

Mark laughs, shaking his head. “Not ignoring, just… working on myself.”

“Good,” responds Lucas, turning to bring in the rest of his boxes. Yes, Mark had spent the entire summer dedicating himself to the lost cause that was himself. He started working out again, got a job, and even worked on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. Things were looking up for him.

He feels ready. Lucas’ voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, wanna take a break and get some food?”

His question meets a raised eyebrow from Mark. “You just got here, like, two minutes ago.”

“And?”

A laugh leaves Mark’s lips, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. But, uh, I can’t. I was going to go… see Y/N.”

“Oh?” asks Lucas, leaning down to tear the tape on one of the dark cardboard boxes filled to the brim, probably with Lucas’ pillows; the man was like a giant baby, sleeping with ten pillows. “You called her and asked to meet up?”

“No,” responds Mark, who follows these words with a deep breath. “I’m going to go see her.”

Lucas stands straight once more, his playful expression from earlier now serious. He shoots Mark a soft smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice. I’m happy for you. Are you leaving now?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning to go after I put all the kitchen stuff away.”

Lucas’ grin grows even wider, stretching from ear to ear as he gives Mark a little pat on the bum, which is supposed to be encouraging. “Well, then go get her, tiger! Good luck, man,” he yells supportively as he pushes Mark out the door.

As he shuts the door, Mark blinks. “Dude! I don’t even have shoes on! Or my car keys,” he laughs, banging on the door.

Some time later, Mark finds himself hesitating as he parks his car a block down the street from your sharehouse, the same place he had kissed you, that many years ago. He doesn’t even know if you still live here. You had been broken up since the beginning of your junior year, who knows if you had decided to move out?

He contemplates this as he walks down the sidewalk to your place, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. Surely, if you’re not there, one of the girls will point him in your direction? Hopefully.

Oh, but you are there. As your home comes into view, he sees you. You’re there on the front porch, dressed in a simple white skirt and the same white ballet flats with purple bows that you can never seem to grow out of.

But you’re not alone.

There’s a man with you, though his back is turned to Mark’s view. He blinks. His steps stop completely. Surely it could be anyone right? A neighbor? A classmate?

But that’s impossible. Not because class doesn’t start for three days or because you and him met the neighbors on all sides of your house, but because you lean up on your toes, the way you always did with Mark himself, and kiss the stranger’s cheek.

It would have been easy to lie to himself, but then it’s much too clear. He realizes it then as he stares, only a few steps away from the path that would have led to your steps, the steps he took when walking you back on your first date, intertwined hands swinging between the two of you.

He’s too late. Maybe much too late.

He was a fool all this time. Thinking that he could be better for you, that he could defy fate with his free will and urge the universe into letting you be together. Lucas was wrong; life isn’t free will, neither is love.

This is his fate, there’s no use denying it.

He stands staring for a few moments, simply gazing in complete desolation at the sight before him. This is it, this is the end. He’s ready to submit to his poor fate, the internalized idea he’s housed that he’d never be able to find a love like yours ever again, but then you see him, probably because he stands out like a stain of black paint on the green canvas of your lawn.

He doesn’t hear you, but your lips form his name, “Mark?” and your eyes blink in confusion.

He doesn’t wait too long anyways, for he’s already turned on his heels back to his car. Fuck fate and its tendencies, giving hope where there will only be heartbreak.

—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.

The smell of you invades his senses, but he doesn’t care. It’s one of the first nights in a long time where you’ve agreed to go to a party with him. Though other girls beg for his attention, he’s still only got his eyes on you. Your outfit tonight is much too nostalgic.

“You know,” he whispers in your ear, dancing against your backside with a hand on your waist. “You look best in white.”

“I know,” you respond, chuckling whilst dancing back against him. He had taught you how to dance a while ago, and you just keep getting better and better.

“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you, you little minx,” he teases, though a playful laugh leaves his throat. His words draw a knowing giggle from you, and Mark feels as though he could get drunk on the sound alone.

“Maybe,” you respond back, turning and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. This is when Mark gets a good look at you.

It’s so easy to remember the way you first appeared to him, standing awkwardly in a corner of a party just like this. This time the lights decorating the aura of this party are not purple, but his heart is all the same. You’re wearing the same outfit now, definitely at this point to tantalize him and tease him; you loved to make fun of him after he told you that he had fallen for you because of that dress alone.

But you’re different now.

You’re brighter, taller, more mature. Now you are not just your person carrying your own thoughts, but his as well. You know him, know his thoughts and his feelings, know his worries without asking. Your smile is bigger, it reaches your eyes more now than it did that first night, a forced simper at the strange guy coming to flirt with you. You dance with more confidence, you carry with yourself a quiet strength despite your hesitant nature.

He loves you. God, he loves you. He tells you just as much.

With a hand over your hip, he pulls you close. You think he’s going to press another tipsy kiss to your lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he brushes his lips to your ear and he whispers, so softly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been purposely filtering the party’s music to focus on his voice: “I love you.”

You blink, and stop your dancing. It’s the first time he’s ever said this to you.

“Mark…” you start, lips parting in surprise, but he’s pulled away to smile sweetly at you. It’s not flirtatious, the kind of smile he gives you before attempting to pull you in the bathroom for a quick one. Nor is it the knowing grin he shoots before guiltily asking you to go refill his drink. It’s a small one that barely touches the tips of his lips, and the look alone makes your heart melt in espousement. “I… I love you too.”

You had told him, of course, the other month when you had tore him apart in his bedroom after finding him hungover. But this time it’s real, and in the future you both will choose to remember this as the first time.

Some might think that it’s unorthodox to confess such strong feelings such as love in the middle of a party, sweltering with the heat of dancing bodies and the musky smoke in the air. But for the two of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s just you two in here; you only see each other.

—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.

Mark’s currently in his room, completely bare except for his bed and desk, sulking away. When he had returned home with a bitter lilt in his steps, Lucas didn’t need any explanation, stepping out to “meet Yuqi.”

Of course, it had been Lucas who had put him in this place of thinking he could get you back but in the end, it was only himself that he had to blame. He never had the chance, it was his fault for thinking he ever did.

He’s learned his lesson.

It’s only an hour later when Lucas knocks on the door again. Fuck, Mark thinks inwardly while rolling his eyes. It’s only the first day back, has this giant managed to lose his keys, again? He makes his way out to the door, already preparing to give Lucas hell for being so irresponsible, but Lucas never makes his appearance at the door.

“Y/N.”

“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up at your place uninvited.” He’s quick to interrupt you, shaking his head. It’s easy to pretend to be strong; he just needs to maintain a strong front until he shuts the door again.

“It’s not that, I—”

“I won’t do it again, I promise. I know you said you wanted to move on and I shouldn’t be surprised, it just hurts to see it, and so, I’ll—”

“Mark—”

“I hope that you’re very happy, and that he can make you happier than I di—”

“That’s my brother, you daft idiot!” You finally cut him off, voice rising to a volume louder than his. He had flinched at your sudden peak in volume. You give him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t dare speak again, you continue. “That’s my brother, Mark. He helps me move in every year, you know that!”

That’s true, he does know that. And he’s met your brother many, many times. Shit, he realizes.

“... Oh.”

“Mark Lee, you think I could move on from you that quickly? It’s been like, two months!” You scold him, as if the idea is preposterous.

“Well,” he reasons. “Technically we broke up a year ago.”

You seem to have the energy to argue back. “Okay, but I only really let you go when school ended this year.”

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment following your words, before you both start to laugh. You crack first, trying to remain serious when all you want to do is envelope him in a hug, for how could you ever love anyone else? You can’t even imagine trying to date anyone right now. He follows right after, shoulders relaxing as you start to chuckle.

“We look insane right now, you know,” he says, sighing as his chortle comes to an end.

“Yeah, and I’m insane because I drove like a madwoman chasing after my ex because he saw me with my brother,” you say with a pointed tone, to which Mark sighs.

“Okay, in my defense, I saw him from behind, and you are awfully touchy with your brother!” He starts, when you begin to laugh again, pure amusement breaking out across your visage. Wow, just five minutes ago he had been regretting all his life decisions, yet here he was with you again, making conversations like you had years ago in your relationship.

When the laughter dies down, the two of you are left staring at each other, and reality sets in. Yeah, he had run away when he saw you with your brother of all people, and you had chased after him, your ex. Where does that place you?

Mark speaks first, breaking the short silence. “I’m sober now, you know. I haven’t done anything, anything at all, in three months now.”

Surprise seems to claim your face at the revelation, and he’s not sure if he should feel proud that he managed to shock you with his success or saddened that it seems to be that much of a surprise. “Oh?” Your surprised expression is replaced with a smile. “I’m proud.”

He nods, unsure what to say next, but luckily you add on, “What made you decide to stop?” You’re undoubtedly reminiscing on all the times you had begged him to give it up, to which he would stubbornly resist.

“You.”

Your features contort into an incredulous expression. “Me.”

“Really,” Mark urges. “I…” he pauses, preparing himself for the words about to leave him. He had long pondered over this moment, wondering if it would truly happen. “I lost you, and I know that I said it was because we weren’t meant to be together but somewhere along the line I realized, I can live without weed, and parties, and alcohol but I can’t live without you.”

“Mark…” You start, lips parted as you grow silent.

“No, please, let me finish, I don’t want to take all the credit because it was Lucas who had to come and knock some sense into me and make me see: sure, fate can be real and that soulmate shit might be real too because I believe you’re mine, but I know that everything is a choice, including love.” His mention of Lucas has you smiling, and he has no doubt Lucas has talked to you recently, attempting to be the middleman once more. “I love you, there’s no doubt about that, I love you more than I love partying, my friends, or anything. And if I love you that much, there’s nothing that can keep me from you.”

He grasps at your hands, and thankfully, you don’t pull away. “Not God, not fate, not anybody. Only me. I was the only thing keeping us apart. I want to be with you, I want to make things better, and I promise… I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the best for you.” Mark takes a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his hands holding yours before looking back to your eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t have relapses. But I promise that as long as you’re there for me, I will be there for you. I’ll walk you through the shady areas, I won’t run away.”

“Mark—”

“I don’t know if my words will be enough for you to take me back but I swear to you on my entire being that I will be here—”

“Geez, Mark does sobriety make you extremely prone to interrupting, or what?” You butt in, but you laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Whether it’s you natural shine or tears building in your eyes, neither of you know. “Don’t even go there, or explain anymore. Of course I’ll take you back, you idiot. You think I would chase after you like that if I didn’t think about running back to you every day?”

This causes him to laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I was waiting until I was good enough to run to you.”

“You ran away earlier,” you point out teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, pulling you close over the threshold of his apartment.

“That was the last time.”

Your hands find his chest, resting upon the expanse of it as you look up at him with a cheeky smile. “Better be, mister.”

“Oh,” he muses, as you wrap your fingers around the fabric of his shirt and all feels right again. “You’re bold.”

“A year apart does that to you,” you smile, still a hint of shyness on your lips as you finally tug him in, kissing him. You melt into him and his hands immediately find themselves on your hips, just where they belong.

Oh yes, there it is again, that feeling of euphoria. You’re the only drug, the only high he needs.

#NCT-WRITERS #mark lee angst #mark lee smut #mark smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee fanfic #nct angst #tw: smut #tw: drugs #tw: drinking

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anime-kia · 3 years

Text

My Boyfriend’s Best Friend

This chapter contains cheating, very mature smut and swearing. (P.S. This story was inspired by a post I saw on Instagram and the comments under it gave me the idea to write this loool.)

Relationship: BBF Erik x Cheating Reader

Tyler was your boyfriend of six months. You both met during second year of university in a literature class with the world's most boring teacher, Mr. Winters. The day you first started talking was during a two hour lecture about Shakespeare, yuck.

Your head was resting in your palms as the monotone voice of the teacher flowed through the room.

Shakespeare sucks... You thought you said in your head, but not until the person beside you responded.

"Deadass, I'm tired of hearing about this bullshit." A male voice whispered to you.

Your head raises out of your palms and turns to be met with a light skinned male. He had hazel eyes, curly brown hair with a fade, full pink lips and perfect teeth. His attire consisted of a gold chain, black jeans, a white t-shirt and black Jordans.

Your cheeks heated up, "Oh damn, I thought I said that in my head."

"It was loud and clear. I think the teacher heard you too."

You gasped, "Shit, was I really that loud?"

"Nah, I'm just playing." He grinned.

You playfully rolled your eyes.

"I'm Tyler by the way." He stuck his hand out for you to shake it.

"(Y/n)." You placed your hand into his.

From that day forth, your friendship with Tyler blossomed. You both would grab drinks from the campus cafe, learning more about what each other was interested in, your personal lives and what you were going to do after graduating. Then, it turned into studying sessions or casual hangouts. Eventually, he built up the courage and asked you out on a few dates. Sometimes to a party or to a game to cheer on your school team. It didn't take long for both of you to realize that your feelings were mutual. Just before the end of second year, Tyler asked you to be his girlfriend, which you gladly accepted.

You loved everything about Tyler, everything but his choice of friends. Especially his best friend, Erik Stevens. You hated that nigga so much, he always knew how to rile you up and get on your last nerve. But what could you do about it? Tyler and Erik have been best friends since the third grade, there was no separating them. Never.

Erik was very different from Tyler. Tyler had manners, he was respectful, and cared about other people and not just himself. Erik on the other hand was a selfish, rude, blunt, narcissist. To hell with everyone else!

How did he treat women? Like toys. You've been to his house more times than you would like to admit because of Tyler, and you've watched the multiples of women enter and exit his house all in one day. It was atrocious to you.

Erik loved to get you mad, to see how far he could push you, and boy could he ever.

Tyler invited you out to eat at a sushi restaurant. But when you got to the restaurant you didn't expect to see Erik, who was macking on your cousin, and you weren't too fond of her.

Serena Cumberland... A very curvy brown skinned girl. She always wore her lace fronts in a half up, half down style, nails always done in a coffin shape (Which were way too long for your taste), and she was never seen without her clear lip gloss, diva lashes and eyeliner. Her outfits ranged from Adidas tracksuits and name brand sneakers to skin tight body con dresses and the high heels.

It's not her style you didn't like, it was her personality. She was an attention seeking bitch and she was rude as hell to you. But of course, you didn't let her stank personality affect you.

Erik knew damn well you and her didn't like each other, that's exactly why he brought her over.

"Babe, what the fuck are they doing here?" You deadpanned, eyes locked onto Erik and that broad.

"Erik just finished his finals so I invited him as a congratulations." He rubbed your shoulder.

"Ugh, then he brought her." You rolled your eyes as Erik winked at you in the distance.

"She's your cousin."

"Fuck no, she's the devil's incarnation."

He chuckled as you both walked towards Erik and Serena. "Yo." He and Erik bumped knuckles. "Wassup, Serena?"

"Hey." She responded with a mischievous tone, still eyeing you.

"Can I help you, whore?" You bluntly asked.

"That's how you talk to your cousin?" She moved her hands onto her hips.

"Aye bruh, don't start that shit right now." Erik interrupted.

"Nigga, you're the one who started it." Clearly they threw off your entire day.

"How?"

"Inviting this trick when you know good and well we don't like each other."

"Ah shit, Ree, you never told me." He lied.

"Fuck y'all." You rolled your eyes as the host came to take you to your table.

"You better calm the fuck down before I drag you and your stale weave." Serena took a step closer to you, but both men stepped in between before anything could happen.

"Aight, calm down." Tyler pulled you closer to him and Erik wrapped his arm around Serena's shoulder. "Sorry, table for four." He said to the host, who looked uncomfortable.

At the table, Erik and Serena were whispering to each other and making each other laugh. You eyed them suspiciously and they did the same.

"Can y'all stop looking at me, you're ruining my appetite."

"You're the one eyeing us down." Serena retaliated.

"Cuz y'all are fucking looking at me and laughing." You raised your voice a little, "Care to share what is so damn funny?"

They briefly look at each other and chuckle. Erik spoke up.

"We were just saying you probably feel at home in this place."

"Why? Oh do enlighten me." You sarcastically inquire.

"Cuz it's fishy, just like your pu-" He continued.

"Bro, shut up." Tyler threw a crumpled napkin at Erik.

"Aight bro, defend your girl. But you know she stank."

Before you could speak, Tyler interjected again, "Actually, she smells and tastes like roses."

If your eyes weren't on Erik, you would've missed when his eyebrows slightly rose, revealing a slightly shocked expression on his face.

You blushed at his comment.

"Whatever, man."

The table was silent for a while, but it didn't last. Erik couldn't get enough of your reactions when he disturbed the peace. Your group almost got kicked out of the restaurant for causing such a ruckus. If Erik and your cousin weren't there, it would've been a lovely date. At one point, Erik said something insulting about your teeth causing you to throw your last California roll at his expensive white shirt, leaving a stain. If it weren't for your boyfriend or all the people around, he probably would've choked you out right there. But he deserved it.

Serena was about to splash water on you, but her phone was in your hand, hovering over a fish tank.

"Do it. I dare you, bitch."

She set the glass down and you set her phone down, aggressively.

Tyler was tired of you all by the end of the night. He was ready to end the date, so he called up the waiter to bring the bill.

"I'm paying, no objections." He said in a tired voice.

Hey, no one was complaining, you all were happy that you didn't have to spend a cent that night.

You sometimes wondered why he stayed with you. You didn't get along with his best friend at all. You both were arguing twenty-four seven.

On the way back, Tyler dropped you off at your place. Erik took Serena to his home, obviously. Your mind never wandered onto what he would be doing with your cousin that night, you were too fed up with the both of them to even let their names appear in your head.

A few months later, Tyler and you were chilling at Erik's place.

Why were you there exactly? Because you had nothing better to do. Plus, Erik was being less annoying... Sort of.

He didn't exactly stop making rude remarks to you, they just didn't come as often as they usually would.

The three of you were watching a throwback movie, Friday. To be exact, the guys were really watching it, you were on your phone scrolling through Instagram.

Suddenly, Tyler's phone vibrated and lit up. He paused the movie and answered the phone.

"Hello? Yeah, what's up? ...What? ...No. Slow down, I can barely understand what you're saying." Erik and you stared at Tyler with worry on your faces. "...Okay chill man, you got me scared for a moment. What? ...Mama wants me there right away? ...Bro I'm out with my girl." He kissed his teeth, "Aight, tell her I'll be there in twenty minutes. Cool." He sighed, putting his phone in his pocket.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"My sister just gave birth."

"Oh that's exciting!"

"Hell naw, that's her fourth. And she produces some badass kids."

Erik chuckled, "I will always remember when that lil nigga, CJ slapped you. That shit was funny as hell, bruh."

"And it hurt like a fuckin' bitch." Tyler frowned. "Anyway, I gotta run before my mama whoops my ass." He said putting on his grey Roshes.

You started to get up, but Tyler kissed your cheek and headed towards the door. "I'm not coming?" You questioned him.

"Nah, immediate family event. They said they don't want anyone else there. You'll be aight with Erik, right?"

You exaggerated a sigh and said, "I guess."

"Cool, I'll be back soon."

"Later." Erik waved.

"Bye." You grumbled, watching the door close.

"Yo-" Erik started, but you cut him off right away.

"Please. Don't talk to me. I'm leaving soon."

"Shit, I wasn't kicking you out."

"I know."

"You're boring anyway."

"No I'm not."

"Yeah."

"N- Didn't I just say don't talk to me. If you don't wanna argue, leave me alone."

"Who the fuck said you can make all these rules in my house?"

"No one, I'm trying to avoid conflict, dumb ass."

He kissed his teeth, "You better watch who you're talking to, girl."

"Whatever." Your eyes went back onto your phone.

Erik picked up his phone and dialled a number.

"Wassup, girl." He said seductively. "You trynna come through? ...Yeah, I'm bored... It's just me and my friend's girl... Nah, he abandoned her to fuck another bitch." He was staring at you with a wicked smirk plastered across his face.

That set you off, you put your phone down and reached over him, trying to grab his phone. He got off the sofa, keeping you away with one hand. Damn was he strong.

"You fucking asshole!" You screamed.

"Yeah that's her crazy ass... Nah, she hitting me... I would, but Tyler would get mad."

"What the fuck is that whore saying?!" You were still trying to grab his phone.

He laughed, "She called you a whore... Imma kick her out before you get here, don't worry."

You gave up after a while and he finally ended the call. You adjusted your yellow ribbed sundress as it rose up and sat back down.

"Damn girl, you can't take a joke."

"That wasn't funny."

"What, you don't trust Tyler?"

"Of course I fucking trust Tyler, bitch."

"Your mouth is dirtier than the public bathrooms."

"And your dick is probably dirtier than the subway floors."

"I'm clean, fuck you talking about?"

"All these bitches you be having sex with? I'm sure you got a hundred STD's manifesting in your body right now."

"I only had sex with one girl, who was a virgin, and that was back in high school. Plus, I only receive head, that's it."

At first you were quite surprised that he admitted that, but his ego was too big for that to be true. "Liar."

"I ain't lying."

"You lie all the fucking time."

"Now you lying, I joke around, but I'm very honest."

You scoffed.

He un-paused the movie and you went back to scrolling through Instagram.

Every time your body shifted, your dress would slightly ride up, and it didn't go unnoticed. Erik was staring at your legs the whole time. The way your arms were positioned caused your breasts to press together giving Erik and even nicer view of your cleavage, but with the lights off you couldn't tell that he was eyeing you down.

Truthfully, Erik was jealous of Tyler. He was the one to spot you first, since first year of university. Erik had family issues that no one investigated, and due to this he was always an aggressive, and secretive person. Thanks to Tyler, Erik slowly came out of his shell. Not to say that it made him any nicer than he was before... Erik was still Erik.

First year, you never acknowledged him, even though he sat two rows behind you. He remembered the moment when he first told Tyler about you. He described you as, "The baddest girl he's ever seen. Pretty eyes, lush lips, and gorgeous hair."

When he found out that the girl he had eyes for was dating his best friend, Erik burned with anger. But being too prideful, Erik never let anyone know of his jealousy. Especially not his best friend.

You sighed heavily, turning your head to see Erik staring. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Then stop staring at me."

"You can't appreciate attention?"

"I wasn't asking for any."

"That dress says otherwise." He joked.

You looked down and noticed that your dress was a few centimetres away from exposing your ass. "Pervert. Ugh, I swear all guys do is think with their dicks."

"We can do more than just think with them."

"Like what?" You sharply asked, while rolling your eyes.

"Well I can't speak for other guys, but I know this dick can rearrange your guts."

You were surprised that he said that, but quickly retaliated. "Please, ya dick probably the same size as my pinky."

"You wanna find out?"

"Wha- No, I don't need to, I can tell. Niggas like you always have small dicks. Big talk, small junk."

He gave you a hearty laugh, showing off his grills. "Baby, you know I mean what I say... Shit, you couldn't handle it anyway."

"Of course I could," You almost forgot that you had a boyfriend, "...I'm just choosing not to."

Somewhere in between your words, Erik got up and sat next to you. His large hand carassed your thigh carefully.

"What are you doing?" You pushed his hand off of you.

"Come on, I know why you're so miserable."

"But I'm not."

"Oh sure," His head moved closer to your neck, "Ty ain't satisfying you."

His words sent chills down your spine, causing you to push his head away from your neck. "Y-yes he is."

"You're not a girl he can handle. You're wild, a free spirit. You like a challenge... Someone who can dominate you." He was reading you like a book.

You had nothing to say because quite frankly, he was right.

Tyler hasn't been pleasing you lately. He let's you win your arguments all of the time, you get to chose all of the places to eat, and if he gets to go out with the boys or not... You were kind of controlling, honestly. But it wasn't intentional. You just had a strong personality, and Tyler wasn't challenging enough. Erik on the other hand had dominance that radiated off of his brown skin. He was no push over. You weren't either. Your personalities clashed, but they worked on the contrary.

"You been feeling empty. Literally..." He was staring deep into your eyes, "The only reason you come around me is to get that fill that Tyler can't give you. He's too soft for you." A smirk was growing on his face. "I've figured you out, (y/n)..."

You remained silent, reflecting on his words... Damn, was he right. It's not that you hated him, he just gave you a thrill, a challenge. He didn't let you win, ever.

While you were lost in your thoughts, and his deep brown eyes, his hand trailed up your thigh once again. "Let me fill that emptiness." He whispered in your ear, "Let me give you what you want." He kissed you on the neck.

"S-stop, Tyler is your best friend."

"And friends help friends." His mouth gingerly moved across your neck, his beard tickling you.

This is wrong... Right?

"Stop thinking, just enjoy."

He got you right where he wanted you; confused and vulnerable.

Soon your body was pulled onto his lap, straddling him. His hands moved from your waist, down to the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head.

He stared at your chest, and the way your bra held up your breasts perfectly. He was ready to unwrap his gift, but this gift wasn't his.

His hand moved to the clasps of your black Bombshell push-up bra, separating each hook from the loop. And just like that, your bra slid down, revealing your chest to him.

This is wrong... It has to be...

You were in a state of disarray, not knowing whether to get up and leave, cover up, or to continue.

Erik's hands moved to your breasts, cupping each one while massaging the nipples with his thumb. You let out a gentle sigh. His hands felt magical...

"Wow, this is what Tyler's been keeping all to himself. Greedy nigga." Erik chuckled. "I bet he can't do you like this."

He put you on your back and kissed your chest, moving towards a nipple. His tongue carefully moved over your buds, eliciting a moan from you.

"You like that, huh?" You responded with a slight nod as he went back to your chest, switching to pleasure the other.

Erik moved his head back up and kissed you, his tongue dominated yours. It was slow and passionate, with a hint of force. His thick lips felt so nice against yours. Sometimes he would bite your bottom lip, causing you to moan or you would bite his, causing him to grunt. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving you wanting more. You were breathing hard. Tyler never kissed you like that before.

Erik's lips traveled down your body, from your neck, to the middle of your chest and all the way down to your pelvis. His moved a finger towards your panties, rubbing your lower half.

"Damn girl, all I did was kiss you a little bit." He referenced to the wetness growing in between your legs. The more he rubbed you there, the more wet you got. "I might not even have to eat you out." He smirked, and started pulling off his sweats, a large erection visible.

"W-wait." You finally spoke for the first time. He raised an eyebrow, "You can't leave me hanging."

"So tell me what you want then."

"You know what I want."

"I don't know if you don't tell me."

You sighed heavily, "I want you to eat me out, please."

"...Because you said please." He pulled off your soaked lace thong, and kissed your thigh before going to work.

The second you felt his tongue touch your clit, your body jolted and your thighs closed, squeezing his head.

"Keep ya legs wide open." He demanded in a serious tone, his hands pressing them wide, just in case you crushed his head again.

This time, he started away from your clit, carefully tonguing you.

"Mmmh." You bit your bottom lip.

His swirled his tongue over your clit, flicking at the bud. One of your hands gripped onto a pillow, the other in his dreads. Your breathing increased, and your cries and moans became louder.

"O-oohhh, mmmhhh."

Tyler was the last person on your mind now...

The sound of Erik's tongue against your flower turned you on even more, he was enjoying the taste of you as well.

Ty was not lying, roses are an understatement... He thought to himself.

Erik got harder every second thinking about how he was gonna fuck you. Your moans from him just eating you out was getting him even more excited. He decided to spice things up and added one finger into your core. The feeling of his thick finger made your hips rock forward, closer to his face. Erik decided you were more than wet enough for another finger to be added into you and so he did.

"Ahhh!" You cried out.

His tongue was assaulting your clit, and his fingers aggressively moved in and out of you. You were seeing stars due to the immense amount of pleasure Erik was giving you. It was almost too much, you tried your hardest to close your thighs, but Erik would not allow it. Instead he pulled you closer, and ate you out even more.

"E-Erik, I-I'm gonna cum." Your eyes watered. But as soon as you said that, he pulled away, leaving you unsatisfied and bothered. "W-what the fuck?" You whined.

"Don't worry baby, I'm not done yet." He slipped off his shirt, followed by his boxers. You stared in awe as his penis sprung free. It made you wonder how he was able to wear tight jeans and hide that monster so well.

He held it in his hand, rubbing the tip.

How big is it? You wondered.

"'Bout nine inches." He said, catching you off guard.

Dammit, you said that out loud...

He did his signature grin, "You still think you can handle this little dick?" He asked.

"Y-yeah." You lied. You knew good and well that he was gonna tear up your walls.

"Aight, we'll see about that."

"Bet." Your pride was huge, and it was about to get you in trouble.

"Get on your knees and suck it." He said moving closer to you.

You obeyed his command, taking his length into your palm and stroked it. It was thick, long and had a lot more girth than you were expecting.

"No more playtime, put it in your mouth." And slowly, his dominant side was starting to come out.

You took his shaft and wrapped your lips around it. You bobbed your head back and forth, unable to fit it all in your mouth. It was just too big! The part that you couldn't fit in your mouth was substituted by your hand.

He enjoyed the view of your head moving back and forth against him, but he felt as if you weren't trying to fit it all in. As you continued to bob, you felt his hand push your head closer, causing you to gag as it hit the back of your throat. You pulled away quickly, while coughing.

"D-don't do that! I coulda died, man."

"You leaving half my shit untouched, I know you can fit more than 4.5 inches in that big ass mouth of yours."

"Shut up, Stevens." You rolled your eyes.

"Aight, no more talking. Get back to sucking."

This time, you tried to move your head as close as possible without choking. The more you got, the more grunts you earned from him.

"Oh, shit." He whispered, huskily.

His foot was tapping against the hardwood floor vigorously. You assumed he was close so you sucked even harder, swirling your tongue around the shaft in different patterns.

Just before he released, he pulled you up and carried you into his bedroom, dropping you onto his bed.

"Now let's see if you're ready for this dick." He got between your legs, lifting one over his shoulder. He rubbed the tip of his penis against your clit. "Ready or not..." He whispered and steadily moved into your core.

"Uhh- ahh." You tried shifting under him, but he was holding you down. As he advanced inside you, your body involuntarily squirmed. You screamed as he continued to probe you. It was huge!

Your walls stretched like they never have before, the pain and pressure made tears form in the corners of your eyes. "Fuck!" You screamed out. "Ohhhhh. Damn."

He moved back and pushed down again.

"NNnnghhh!"

He bit his lip, holding back a moan that was threatening to escape his mouth. "S-shit. You tight as fuck."

"Ohhhh, fuck!"

He gently rocked his hips, "This is what you want? Someone to dominate you like this."

You tried locking your legs, but with him between them it was never gonna happen.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you." His voice was demanding and sharp, scary almost.

"Y-yes. Nnngh."

Despite you not adjusting completely, he picked up the pace, thrusting slightly faster. He gripped one of your breasts, leaving the other one to bounce freely.

You closed your eyes as he pushed in and out of you.

"Nah, you gon' look at me when I'm fucking you." He lifted the other leg over his shoulder and moved deeper into your core, staring directly into your eyes.

He loved to see you so vulnerable. The way his dick make you go crazy drove him wild.

"Now tell me, who's pussy is this?"

You bit your lip, "Y-yours." You felt terrible for saying that, but Tyler never made you feel so good to the point where tears were falling from your eyes. There's no way in hell he only fucked one girl a few years ago. He was too good.

"What? I can't hear you."

"Yours, baby!"

"Louder!"

"YOURS, MMHH!"

"That's right, good girl." His strokes became even harder, and deeper, hitting you in all the right places.

"MMmmhh, fuck! Ohhhh." You wailed. You felt close to your release. "I'm gonna cum."

"Nah, not yet." He turned you on your side, lifting your left leg up, fucking you sideways.

The way you were exposed didn't help the fact that you wanted to release right at that instant. Your bodies moved in perfect sync. The wet sounds of your sexes, and the aroma filled the room. The fact that you were getting fucked by your boyfriend's best friend, a guy who you hated, made you even hornier for whatever sinful reason.

Erik's grunts were becoming a lot more noticeable, and his release was near.

He pulled out and flipped you on all fours. You were exhausted at this point, your core felt knotted and was aching. He pushed back in thrusting at an ridiculous pace. Your bum slammed against him, causing a loud clapping sound each time. He slapped your ass a few times, hard enough to leave a mark. It hurt, but felt damn good.

Your fingers gripped his bedsheets, "I wa-nna cu-um." You practically begged at this point, feeling unable to hold it any longer.

"Ngh, n-not yet." He struggled to say.

You slumped onto your forearms, thinking that Erik was almost done ruining your hole, but he wasn't. You were desperate to release, so you placed your fingers at your clit, but Erik moved your hand away.

"Don't try that. You only taking this dick, nothing else."

Suddenly, Erik's phone started to ring.

"Ah shit, it's Tyler." He sighed.

"W-what do we do?" You asked nervously.

"Imma answer it." Erik replied, still pumping into you.

"B-but-"

"Just keep your voice down." He answered the phone.

How the hell was he expecting you to do that?

"Yo." He said it as if he was just chilling on the sofa. "...Nah she still on her phone... The movie's almost done." He slowed his pace.

You were bitting your lip, trying not to make a sound.

"...Oh, uh. Hold on." Erik put the phone by your ear. "Talk to him."

Regret and conflict disturbed your mind, coursing through your veins and to your heart.

"H-hello?" Your word almost came out as moan.

"Hey baby, how are things?"

It wasn't until you heard his voice to realize that you actually were cheating on him.

"G-good, mh."

"Y'all ain't fighting?"

"NoOOoo, not at the moment."

"You good? You sound constipated."

Erik thrusted really hard into you, "AH!"

"Baby?" Concern was evident in Tyler's voice.

You looked back at Erik and mouth to him, "Stop." But of course he didn't, he just slowed down a bit.

"Y-yeah I'm fine, the movie just had a jump scare."

"A jump scare in Friday?" He questioned you.

"Yeah. Anyway, how is your sister and the baby?" You knew that prolonging the conversation was a bad idea, but you didn't want him knowing why you were making all those sounds.

"They good, both sleeping right now."

Tyler continued talking, but you weren't listening. Erik was penetrating you, temporarily disabling you from speaking.

"(Y/n)? Yo, you there?" He called from the other line.

"Yeah, sorry."

"It's aig-"

"Aight gimmie my phone, running up my damn bill." Erik loudly interrupted. "Talk to her later bruh, she catching an attitude cuz I took my phone back... Aight, later." And Erik hung up, flinging his phone to the side. "No more distractions."

He fucked you harder and deeper to make up for lost time.

"S-shit, slow down." You whined.

But he didn't listen, all you could do was moan his name, and beg for a release.

"P-please, Erik."

"Nah, you can wait." He slapped your ass and gripped it, bouncing you harder.

You tried crawling away as it was becoming too much to handle, but he pulled you back with ease.

"Don't run mama, you can handle it."

"N-no, pl-please. Mmmh, please let me cum." You begged.

"Almost." He continued to thrust into you.

Your legs were shaking, and your knuckles changing colour from the death grip you had on the bed.

"Remind me, who owns this pussy?"

"Y-you, daddy! Ohhhhh!"

"That's right..." He grunted, "Now cum all over this dick."

And as soon as he allowed you to, you did exactly what you were instructed to do. Somewhere in the mix of your euphoric release, you could feel him pull out and a band of his semen spilled onto your back.

You, out of breath, collapsed onto his mattress, trying your best to steady your breathing. That was the best sex you've ever had. Just before Erik got up, he kissed your shoulder, slapping your ass. You, however, were too worn out to be bothered.

Moments later, Erik came out of his bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and he found you asleep. Tears stained your face, but he thought nothing of it. He used a damp towel to clean your body, then changed into basketball shorts and a wife beater.

Then there was a knock at the door.

"Shit." He whispered, rubbing his temple. He went to the front door and answered it. There stood the girl he was talking to earlier, in nothing but a silk robe and lacy lingerie.

"I'm ready." Her voice, seductive as ever.

For once in his life, Erik didn't know what to say. He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear when you walked up behind him in nothing but an oversized shirt. His oversized shirt to be exact.

The lady's eyes trailed onto you, with distaste and disgust. Then they went back onto Erik.

"What the fuck?!" She screamed, "You already-?"

"Yup." He bluntly replied.

You were still muddled, trying to figure out what actually happened.

"You asshole! How da-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Erik slammed the door in her face.

"You seriously invited another girl over?" Your voice was a groggy mess.

"That was the chick on the phone."

"You're ridiculous." You say returning to the sofa with an awkward walk. He really ruined you.

Erik received a text from Tyler, and it wasn't until then he started to feel a little uneasy.

"Aye, Tyler said he'll pick you up in the morning."

"Okay." You curled up into a ball.

"You can sleep on my bed."

"I'd rather not."

"If you think I'm gonna try something, I'm not. You can barely walk."

You didn't respond.

"At least take a shower."

You sighed as he assisted you to the shower.

"I'll be outside, call me if you need anything."

You stepped in and let the hot water hit your skin. Your mind was clouded, you felt terrible for doing what you did, but it felt so good. Too good to be true.

You ended up sleeping on Erik's bed and he slept in the living room.

The next morning, Tyler came and picked you up.

"Did you guys get along?" He asked.

"Yeah, very well." Erik slyly commented.

You nodded your head without a word.

"I'm glad to hear that."

Erik winked at you and mouthed the words, "Till next time," as you and Tyler left his apartment.

Woo!!! Okay this story took too long (almost three days). I'll edit this tomorrow probably, it's 1 am and I'm hella sleepy (plus school tomorrow ofc) Also, this is officially my longest chapter ever! (5558 words) By the way, I do not condone cheating, I was just inspired to write this story. Cheating is never the answer!

Thanks for reading! :)

(Start/Finish: April 30-May 3, 2018)

#killmonger x reader #black reader #killmonger fic

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