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starlightdelrey · 5 months

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the view between villages

platonic ! f1 grid x reader

summary: f1 is a dangerous sport - it's common knowledge. but accidents - bad accidents - aren't as common. seeing the youngest (and only female) driver crash and not immediately respond is something the boys never thought they'd have to experience, and the rest of the world is just as devestated.

cw: major accident, graphic descriptions of injury and vehicular damage, graphic descriptions of car accident, mentions of death, blood and gore, negative emotions such as sadness and regret, angst, mentions of religion,

song pairing is "the view betwen villages" by noah kahan

(not based on any particular race)

today's race felt off to begin with. When y/n had attempted to leave her aging yorkie, comet, in her hotel room - like she had done for the past couple months - he began to whine.

"poor baby," she mocked, but turned the small TV on and switched it to the channel that would be broadcasting the race live. "look, com. watch me on the tv."

the dog had complied and jumped onto the un-made bed, but when she left and closed the door, he had whined once or twice before calming down.

she made a mental note to get him checked out at the vet, but got distracted when she showed up to the paddock and got a look at the track.

"the weather wasn't as shit yesterday during quali," she said off-handedly to max verstappen, who was chatting to the engineers.

"are you worried?" y/n was a good racer, it was clear - but whenever max saw how small she looked in comparison to everyone else on the team he had a small sense of dread. it wasn't new, just annoying.

"nah." she grinned at him, her hair already pulled back into a french braid for ease during the race.

---

"lights out.... and away we go!"

the lights blink out and y/n is already gunning it, attempting to bypass the boys from mclaren.

she discovered early on that locking up would be her main issue today, and she made it clear on her radio.

"i keep locking up."

her voice was calm but shook a little as she struggled to steer, and she spoke only in short sentences to prevent stuttering.

"copy."

finally, she worked out a system to braking that prevented the struggle, but in speeding up, found that she'd made her way into a mass of cars.

"watch out, y/n. keep out of trouble - wait until everybody else has moved out of each others way."

"ok. pulling back-" the radio crackled and then went silent as a car careened into the side of her.

---

the audiences at home got to watch a replay of the impact.

somewhere in australia, a family consisting of two parents, a teenaged boy and a little girl are watching the race.

the boy reacts first, jolting. "was that logan sargeant and y/n y/ln?"

"yeah... turn up the volume?"

the mother grabs the remote and obliges, terse.

"was that the girl driver?" the barely 5 year old asks, brows furrowed.

"baby, go play in the other room." her father dismisses her, and when she slowly shuffles out, eyes trained on the screen as the commentators relay the details, her dad huffs.

"now. and don't look at the screen anymore."

she squeals and runs out, and the boy starts to jiggle his knee up and down as they wait for more information.

across the world, houses go silent.

---

"and it looks like logan sargeant attempts to pull away from the crowd but misjudges the distance between himself and y/ln. we can see him here slam right into the right side of the body of her car, and she goes spinning out, right into barricades. oh! and if we slow it down, you can see that the force of her chassis hitting the barricades not only forces the car to lift fully off of the ground, but it also tips - the top of the vehicle flips up into the barricade until it falls back into place. that is a nasty hit for rookie red bull driver y/n y/ln."

the commentators keep talking, thinking nothing of the accident, until the cameras switch to the red bull team, who are trying to get into contact with the girl.

"y/n, are you okay?"

silence.

"can you respond? y/n we need a vocal response. anything, okay kid? even if you can just hold down on the radio button so we know you're there."

no response.

the commentators continue.

"and it looks like we're getting no response from red bull driver y/n, who has just crashed."

---

his whole body jerks on the impact, and he spins out off the track, coming to a shaky stop.

"shit, shit, shit!" his voice cracks.

"are you okay, mate?" the radio crackles at him as he's fighting back tears.

"yeah - was that y/n i hit?"

"yes, we can confirm the crash involved both you and y/ln. we are receiving word that it is a red flag crash."

"is she okay?" he doesn't get a response at first, so he tries again. "is y/n okay?"

"no word yet. sorry, logan."

"fuck! i'm so sorry - i really thought it was clear, i just... fuck."

"calm down, sargeant. wait for pick-up and keep yourself collected. we'll tell you as soon as we find anything out, okay mate?"

"sure."

he lifts himself from the smoking chassis and the world watches as he kicks it out of frustration before letting his head lower.

there's a sickening feeling in his stomach as he sees the girls unmoving vehicle.

he pictures her inside, and the fact that she's so much smaller than the older men cause his mind to unravel with pictures of her limp and unconscious.

---

inside the car, y/n blinks her eyes open, groaning.

her ears are ringing and her head hurts, and the body of her car is so warped that it's vacuum sealed her into the vehicle.

in the back of her mind, y/n feels the pain in her right thigh and left ankle, and her right shoulder feels dislocated.

"kid, we need an answer." the radio's muted and crackling, and when y/n tries to respond, she realizes that something on her end is fucked because they're still begging for an answer.

she goes to climb out of the car, but a sob tears out of her chest at the immense pain that suddenly blooms throughout her whole body.

she falls heavily back onto the seat and pants, closing her eyes.

she feels slight relief from the pain when she fully relaxes and closes her eyes, and nestles into her seat a little to get comfortable.

the need to sleep takes over her and she obeys, nodding off.

---

inside her hotel room, comet's ears pull back in concern as he hears his owners name being called out repeatedly from the television.

---

"red flag, max. we need to restart the race."

verstappen stills, his ears suddenly ringing. he has a bad feeling about the red flag but just can't place it.

"what's happened?"

"there was a crash between a williams and y/n. to the pit lanes, please." the voice on the other end seems calm, but there's a waver to it.

"fuck, are you joking? are they both okay?"

"the williams driver... logan sargeant, we're hearing, is up and out of his chassis. we've heard nothing from y/n yet."

he'd fight them, ask for more information, but knows that red bull would be the first to hear anything.

"tell me if you find anything out."

"copy."

as he drives to the pit lane, max replays her grin at him as she reassures the dutchman.

"nah." her nose is scrunched and hair pulled out of her face.

he thinks about how bulky the helmet looked on her, the barely 20 year old driver somehow never managing to put on any muscle, no matter how hard she tried.

he prays to jesus, zeus, allah, and even the virgin mary - surely she'd have sympathy to max's prayers, as she's lost someone dear to her before. any deity he can think of is immediately begged to ensure the safety of his partner.

---

a whining noise pulls y/n back into consciousness, and she furrows her brows.

"i'm trying to sleep, com. shut up." when she opens her eyes and sees the battered cockpit in front of her, she realizes that she's not hearing her dog cry, it's just the ringing in her ears that are back.

and then suddenly all she can see is comet waiting for her. comet, waiting in a hotel room that she'll never re-enter. what's gonna happen to the mutt if she dies? her parents are over-seas, she has no boyfriend to look after him. comet would be all alone.

and then all the guys on the grid are flashing through her head. she knows, vacantly, that logan crashed into her. he'd never forgive himself if she died. verstappens win streak would be fucked if he was grieving over his teammate. even lewis hamilton, who was the first driver to openly back her as the only woman on the grid.

she screws her eyes shut and lets out a heavy sob, steeling herself.

---

the commentators are no longer focused on the race.

"and i think i can speak for all of us when i ask, where is the goddamn safety car and ambulance? young driver y/n y/ln has been stuck in the wreck for about a minute and a half now, and there has still been no aid for her. which is a cause for concern about the overall safety of f1, as- oh my god!"

---

charles is already on his way back to the pit lanes, muttering manifestations under his breath for y/n to be okay.

he's shaking, filled with lead and a lump in his throat. he and y/n aren't super close, due to their team differences, but every time he spoke to her she had a certain gleam in her eye that one only had when they weren't afraid of death.

this worried him. racing was her life - would she succumb easily? it was a known fact that many drivers drove as if they had nothing to lose.

the idea of her choking on mortality in her chassis scared him more. maybe her body was broken, and the pain was all she could feel as the life drained from her? he worried for those that would have to witness the blood and bruises when she was pulled from her car.

"we've got an update on y/n."

he was pulled out of his mind. "tell me. please."

"she's getting herself out. the paramedics were taking too long, so she took it upon herself, apparently." a startled laugh falls out of charles' lips as he cheers back.

---

muscles screaming, y/n forces herself to lift out of the cockpit, allowing her body the only relief of rest once her upper half is slung over the halo. for about five seconds she stops, before she forces herself to continue.

the safety car and paramedics are here now, and camera crew for the live footage plus the netflix crew are close behind.

people are shouting at her to stop, but she continues to claw her way out of the wreckage.

she's crying and praying to a god she never knew she believed in as she forces her broken legs out of the car, sliding over the side to the ground.

she stands and looks around at the medical crew who are advancing towards her and tries to take her helmet off. she can't, and they're reassuring her that they'll do it for her.

y/n looks out at the audience and raises one arm to greet them. she's met with immediate raucous applause and, swaying for a few seconds, she falls.

---

"you would never believe it. this lady is pulling herself out of her car. as the camera zooms, you can really see the absolute strength this is taking her - hold on, we're getting audio now."

the world watches with bated breath as the coverage of her climbing out of the car begins to play. you can hear the agonised screams she lets out as she forces herself to exit, and just how broken some of her limbs look. her left ankle hangs limply, and she has to use both arms to force her right leg out of the cockpit.

"what a magnificent scene. y/n y/ln has kissed death, and still lives to tell the tale. we see her now, standing on the track as the medical staff come to her aid, and she falls. a very fair response to what she has just gone through. a round of applause to y/n y/ln, the girl who kissed death!"

---

"so lando, congratulations on p4. obviously, the whole crash between logan and y/n caused a damper on the overall race. how do you feel about it?" the interviewer pushed a mic at his face.

"the crash? yeah, it was terrifying not knowing if she was okay or not. i'm not surprised she ended up climbing out of the chassis herself," he laughs softly. "i've never known her for being patient."

"how do you feel about her new nickname?"

"nickname?"

"people are calling her 'the girl who kissed death'."

lando can't stop a high-pitched laugh from escaping. "girl who kissed death? that's stupid. oh god, i can't wait for her to find out about that. she'll be proper pissed off."

"right, well, thanks lando. have fun celebrating!" the interviewer bids him farewell.

---

a few months later:

over the healing process, y/n was forced to give multiple statements, post social media posts, and even a quick video from the hospital bed, but when she sees comet, her resolve finally fails.

she begins to tear up as the scruffy dog barks at her, jumping up and down.

"someone's excited to see you," lewis hamilton, the temporary guardian of the dog, grins.

roscoe stomps his feet and licks y/n, panting at her.

"awe, little babies. i was so scared of dying and leaving comet all alone, but i think he would've been fine."

lewis glances down at the kneeling girl in front of him and tsks, nudging her with his foot. "don't say that, y/n. nobody would've been fine."

"yeah?"

"yeah. have you seen all the tiktok edits of your crash? people were terrified. i was terrified."

y/n doesn't say anything, but stands to hug the british man.

he holds her back, before clearing his throat. "save that love for death. heard you've kissed it before."

"fuck off."

--- la fin ---

#formula one #f1 #formula 1 #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #f1 grid x reader #f1 angst #formula one angst #lewis hamilton x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #logan sargeant x reader #max versappen x reader #f1 oneshot #formula one oneshot #starlightdelrey

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chestersturniolo · 10 days

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𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬

Chris Sturniolo x fem!reader

• based on this request & chris saying he can never go to sleep on an argument •

｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡‎‧₊˚✧ ｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡‎‧₊˚✧ ｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡‎‧₊˚✧ ｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡‎‧₊˚✧

The argument had simmered down, but the tension between you and Chris was still thick.You sat curled up on the couch, arms crossed, refusing to look at him. Chris stood a few feet away, pacing slightly, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

“I don’t even know why you’re so mad” he said, his voice tired and irritated

You shot him a glance, shaking your head,

“Of course you don’t” you mutter

That made him stop pacing. His shoulders tensed, and he let out a deep sigh, clearly trying to keep his cool. You could feel him looking at you, but you kept your eyes on the TV, pretending to care about the show playing in the background.

“y/n, c’mon. I’m trying to talk to you. Can we please just work this out?” His voice softened now, less confrontational.

You were still upset, your mind replaying the argument from earlier.

“I don’t want to talk right now” you say coldly.

Chris sighed again before taking a few steps toward you. “You know I hate this. I hate when we go to bed mad”

You ignored him, but he wasn’t about to give up that easily. “Seriously y/n... What if something happens tonight? What if we don’t get to fix this? I always apologize before bed… you know that”

The mention of that particular habit stung a bit. You knew about it—how Chris had once explained to you, half-joking but half-serious, that he had this rule with himself. He always apologized before going to bed, just in case. He’d even said something like, “What if one of us dies or something, and we didn’t make up?”

It had seemed silly back then, but now, in the quiet of your disagreement, it didn’t feel so ridiculous. But you were still annoyed.

“You don’t need to say that to try and make me feel guilty chris” you huff, standing from the couch. “i need some space”

Without another word, you walked toward the bedroom, leaving Chris standing there,defeated.

You heard him sigh as you closed the bedroom door behind you, and as much as it tugged at your heart, you couldn’t help but feel like you needed space. The weight of his earlier words still stung, and you didn’t feel like facing him right now. Not when your emotions were still raw.

You crawled into bed, pulling the blankets tightly around you, trying to block out the thoughts in your head. You weren’t sure how long you lay there, staring at the ceiling. Eventually, the exhaustion took over, and your eyelids grew heavy, your body giving in to rest.

Chris stood in the living room for what felt like forever after you left, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He hated this—hated the distance, the silence, and more than anything, hated that you had gone to bed without hearing him out.

He glanced at the clock. It was already late, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. You might have been done with the argument, but he couldn’t settle with it. Not like this.

After a few minutes of pacing, Chris made his way to the bedroom door, hesitating for a second before pushing it open. The room was dark, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside. You were curled up on your side, your breathing soft, already fast asleep.

Chris bit his lip, standing there for a moment. He could leave you be, let you sleep, but the idea of going to bed himself while you were still upset? It wasn’t happening. He grabbed his gaming chair from the corner of the room and rolled it up beside the bed, settling into it with a quiet sigh. If he couldn’t fix things before going to sleep, he’d simply stay awake.

Sitting there in the stillness, Chris found himself watching you, his fingers anxiously picking at the edges of his nails. His mind kept racing, replaying the argument, the way your eyes had hardened at him. He hated that look, and more than anything, he hated knowing you went to sleep feeling like that.

Time passed slowly, the night stretching on. Chris kept his watchfulness, unable to tear his eyes away from you for too long.

At around 4am, you stirred, rolling over to get more comfortable. Your body felt heavy, still caught in that space between sleep and waking. Your eyes fluttered open, your heart immediately jumping, panic surging through your half-asleep mind,at the silhouette infront of you. But as your vision cleared, you realized it was Chris. He was sitting there in his gaming chair, his elbows resting on his knees, head down, biting his nails nervously.

You blinked, groggy and confused. “Chris? What are you doing?”

Chris looked up quickly, surprised that you were awake. His eyes were tired, a mixture of relief and exhaustion written across his face. “I stayed up” he said softly.

You frowned slightly, still half asleep and not fully processing what he was saying. “What? Are you crazy?”

Chris let out a small, tired chuckle, leaning back in his chair. “Ma, I told you… I can’t sleep when we’re like this. You didn’t wanna hear me out, so I stayed up”

You blinked again, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. Your heart softened at the sight of him, still sitting by your side, too stubborn to let go of his need to apologize. You felt a pang of guilt for being so distant, for shutting him out earlier.

“Chris…” you whispered, sitting up slightly “You didn’t have to stay up”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did. You know I can’t just leave things like that”

You sighed, reaching over and grabbing his hand, pulling him closer. “You’re so stubborn”

He smiled softly, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Yeah, well, so are you”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at that, the tension between you two finally dissolving. You squeezed his hand, “I’m sorry for being so difficult. I was just… I don’t know, upset”

Chris shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I should’ve tried to see the point you were trying to make instead of blowing it up into an argument. I hate that you went to bed like that”

You tugged on his hand, pulling him closer to the edge of the bed. “Come here. You need sleep too”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking to the empty space beside you. “Are we good?”

You nodded, giving him a soft, tired smile. “Yes Chris. We’re good”

With that, Chris finally stood up and climbed into bed beside you, immediately wrapping his arms around you as you curled into his chest. His warmth and presence instantly made you feel at ease, and the weight of the argument seemed so far away now.

“I love you” he whispered, his voice soft against your hair.

“I love you too” you mumbled, already drifting back to sleep in his arms, knowing that everything would be okay when the morning fully arrived.

｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡‎‧₊˚✧ ｡☾ ﾟ｡‎‧₊˚✧ ｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡‎‧₊˚✧ ｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡‎‧₊˚✧ ｡

A/N; thankyou sm for the request anon lylyly!!🫶🏼

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

something similar i’ve written here

MASTERLIST

taglist; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

@sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4

@brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo angst #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x you #sturniolo x reader

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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 2 months

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When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity| Changbin

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

One of the things you loved most about Changbin was his strength, both physical and emotional. He was your rock, always there to support and protect you. You could tell him anything and everything.

But there was one thing about yourself that you kept hidden, an insecurity that had haunted you for years: your appearance.

You never felt quite good enough, always comparing yourself to others and feeling like you fell short. As you grew up you learned to love yourself, but after Changbin had taken a liking to you, you found yourself thrown into a world of other worldly beautiful people. And it just seem to dig up what you had taken so long to bury.

One evening, Changbin came over to your apartment, excited to spend a cozy night in together. You had just bought a new outfit, hoping it would make you feel better about yourself.

It was stupid, but you and Changbin dressed up even when you guys had stay at home dates. It was a silly little tradition that had happened when you guys had decided to skip out on an award ceremony to stay home and recreate music videos.

Ever since then, all your home dates still had classy attire.

You were in the bedroom, trying it on and examining yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied.

Changbin walked in, smiling. “Hey, you ready to watch that new movie? I've been waiting for forever.”

You turned to him, seeking validation. “How do I look?”

Changbin’s smile widened. “You look great, as always.” He bounced on his feet antsy for the movie. "I have it set up on the TV, I just came to grab some blankets.

You hesitated, feeling the familiar doubt creeping in. “Really? I’m not sure if this outfit is flattering…”

Changbin approached you and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. along with a cheek kiss. “You look the same as always Y/N, I don't see any difference.” He reached into your closet, grabbing an extra big and fluffy blanket. "Do you want popcorn or chips tonight?"

His words, meant to comfort, hit you like a punch to the gut. Your mind twisted his meaning, interpreting it as him saying you always looked unattractive. You felt a lump form in your throat as you turned away, trying to hold back tears.

“I'll grab the chips,” you muttered, walking past him and into the living room.

Changbin followed, confusion evident on his face. “Did I say something wrong?” His tiny legs followed your longer ones - another insecurity.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak without your voice breaking. You grabbed a bag of chips, then the remote and started the movie, hoping to distract yourself. Changbin sat beside you, his excitement to watch the movie coming back after the weird encounter.

He looked to see your face at all the funny parts- as he did with everything you guys watched, because he loved to see the way your eyes shut and your mouth upturned whenever you laughed, your nose wrinkling.

But instead, his hearty laughter, died down more and more as he realized that something was up.

The movie played on, but you couldn’t focus. Your mind kept replaying Changbin’s words, and the sting of them deepened your insecurities. You felt tears welling up, and finally, you couldn’t hold them back any longer. You stood up abruptly, muttering an excuse about needing some air, and headed to the balcony.

Changbin paused the movie and followed you outside. He found you leaning against the railing, wiping away tears.

“Hey,” he said softly, touching your arm. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You took a shaky breath, deciding to let it out. “Do you think I'm unattractive?” You cried quietly.

Changbin’s eyes widened in realization. “Y/N, what on Earth made you think that?"

You sniffled and continued to wipe at your face. "Y-You said you didn't see a difference. When-when I tried to look beautiful you-you said that." You choked out and Changbin sighed, pulling you into his arms.

You let yourself lean into him, his hugs always a comfort to you. Just enough pressure to not suffocate you, but still give you a feeling of stability.

He swallowed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. You are beautiful, inside and out. I love you just the way you are, and I never want you to feel otherwise.”

You continued to hiccup into his chest.

"I didn't know that was something you struggled with...I'm a dumbass aren't I?" He chuckled lightly. "I struggled with the same thing, yet I couldn't even recognize that you were feeling the same way..." He sighed and put his face into your hair. "Y/N I wouldn't trade anything in the world for you. I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever met. I thought that when I first saw you. I thought that on our first date. I thought that when we had our first kiss. And I'll continue to think that for the rest of my life. Please believe me when I say that."

He gently lifted your chin to look at him.

"When I said I didn't see a difference it's because you always look like the moon to me in a world full of stars." You felt an ache in your chest from the sincerity in his eyes and couldn't deny the love you felt for the man in front of you.

From that moment on, Changbin made a conscious effort to be more mindful of his words. He reassured you of your beauty and worth, offering compliments and support without hesitation. He also took the time to understand your insecurities, listening to you as you opened up about your struggles.

And you never felt as if he complimented you just to make you feel better. You genuinely could see the love in his eyes, and the genuine meaning of the words he was telling you.

One evening, as you were both getting ready for a night out, you stood in front of the mirror, trying on a new outfit. Changbin walked into the bedroom and smiled as he saw you.

Changbin looked at you with a soft smile. “You know, I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” he said.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Sure, I am.” You said adjusting the top you had just put on.

“No, really,” he insisted. “Not just on the outside, but on the inside too. You have the kindest heart, and that’s what makes you truly beautiful.”

You turned to him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I love you,” you replied, feeling a sense of confidence you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Changbin walked over and wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I love you,” he whispered. “And I want you to know that you’re perfect to me, just the way you are.”

You leaned back into his embrace, feeling a sense of contentment and peace.

"I almost don't want to go out." He said with a Changbin certified pout.

"Ah, you don't mean that."

"I do." He whines. Then sighs. "But alas...I have to go out. I have some big plans for tonight." He said shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Big...plans?" You turned to see Changbin walking towards the front door. "Wait- Bin what do you mean big plans?" You ask rushing to finsih putting on your shoes to follow him to car.

You just watched as his little legs moved faster, disregarding the open front door as he waddled down the walkway to get to the street.

"Seo Changbin!" You called out, rushing after him. The only answer his hearty little laugh.

(this is how i envision that last scene)

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel

#skz changbin #skz stay #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz fluff #changbin fluff #skz changbin fluff

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xzaddyzanakinx · 6 months

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Not That Kind of Guy

Part Four: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, panty kink, sex daydreams [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is doing his very best, he just loves you and wants you to be comfy around him. Just let him worm his way into your heart babe [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. I’m illiterate so apologies in advance MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: July 8th

Mr. Nelson’s funeral was today, it really was a beautiful ceremony as I look back on it. Even more so when my inner self smears the background enough to bring you to the front of the mental image.

You’d spoken to the man a handful of times, but I didn’t expect you to come. When I saw you accept the invite to the event on Facebook I thought surely it was a mistake. That was until you messaged Luke and asked him to accompany you, funerals make you nervous, but feeling obligated to do something and avoiding it makes you more nervous.

So your moral support was happy to attend and fight off dear old Alan’s corpse should he rise from the casket and set his sights on you.

And I though I had irrational fears, geez babydoll, how old were you when you watched Night of The Living Dead for the first time? If I had to guess it was too young. It’s alright though I get it, you know what movie traumatized me? The Mummy. Heebied my fucking Jeebies so bad I avoided the beach on family vacations.

You’re telling me there’s not a sarcophagus under all that sand? There’s at least one under there and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Solid ground for me only, please and thank you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I had a thought that I initially considered to be a sweet reminder of my dear friend Alan. His obituary was in the newspaper and I happened to swipe one from the guest book table at the viewing as well. Have you ever scrapbooked before? I bet you’ve at least tried it.

Well I thought it would be nice to make him a page in my journal. A little celebration of life for the man who gave me an opportunity to grow and nurture my love for you.

Then I realized mid-glue stick on the newspaper clipping that the idea was something that a clinically insane person would do.

I’m not that guy. That guy’s not me.

But the glue was already on there and it felt wrong to toss Alan’s wrinkly old face into the trash so I pasted him into my journal anyway.

Crazy people don’t know that they’re crazy. I’m well aware that little idea was less than tasteful, just felt like I should mention that.

Date:

July 28th

Anakin Skywalker hadn’t been this happy since… ever. The previous record being his discovery of you, was now toppled into second place and overshadowed by ‘Move In Day’.

He could hardly contain himself. It was a dopamine high that he would ride out until he’d drained every last drop.

The movers lugged in box after box, furniture and books, until finally they dropped off the last load and thanked Anakin for the business. He eagerly shook their hand and shoved them out. He had preparations to make.

He set up his Tv, screen mirroring the live feed of the apartment building entrance to the big screen so that he could easily keep an eye out for you while he unpacked his kitchen.

He’d planned your ‘meet-cute’ meticulously, looking to your bookshelf and streaming services to gather intel on your ideal scenario. You were an odd bird, but he liked that about you. It’s part of your charm, it’s part of the challenge. You’re not as predictable in your tastes and interests as others can be.

Anakin formulated the interaction step by step, frame by frame in the storyboard of his imagination until he had the perfect scene. His box office hit that he’d replay over and over again until the next time he stood face to face with you.

It took quite some time and a load of practice. Discarded dialogue, awkward movements that made him feel stiff and less than human when he practiced them in the mirror. Endless options of clothes, shoes, and hair.

Should he get a new piercing? He wanted to. So he did, he knew you’d like it.

It’d match the one he already had on the opposite nostril. It made him feel more complete to add something so permanent to his body, he wished he could do something similar with you. He wanted you to be permanent, so maybe it’s his subconscious’s way of telling him that this was going in the right direction.

He was on the right path. His journey of life alone was coming to a close and a new trail would reveal itself. No more rocky, unsteady tread. No more sharp turns and blind spots, no more impossible inclines.

Scraped knees and bloodied hands would be distant memories. Maybe even distant enough that he could toss them into The Pit.

He would have no need for anger or sorrow anymore.

How could he feel anything but the warm embrace of love as he strolled down the flowered path ahead with you?

Who knew that you could position one box in 83 different ways and hate every single one of them? Anakin was so thankful there weren’t any actual surveillance cameras in the apartment building. It’d be really difficult to explain why he was in the hallway for an hour with his hands on his hips, scooting a box of books a centimeter or two at a time. Turning it sideways and then making sure the book on top was perfectly positioned and would effectively fall to the ground to catch your attention.

He checked his watch nonstop, stared at his Tv screen, willing you to just hurry the fuck up before he vomited from anxiety. He’d waited months for this. If he fucked it up now he’d… well he’d probably keel over on the spot.

Which would promptly traumatize you and not even his ghost would be able to peacefully haunt you. It’s hard to peacefully haunt someone if they watched you die, or at least Anakin assumed it would be difficult. He wasn’t willing to test that theory though.

So, he puffed up his chest and walked back into his apartment and rehearsed the upcoming conversation a few more times. He needed, desperately needed to ensure his facial expressions conveyed what he wanted.

Soft, trustworthy, dependable, safe, caring.

He practiced softening his eyes, knowing sometimes he stared alittle too hard. He worked on his facial fidget; chewing on the inside of his cheek was a quick tell of his nervousness. He didn’t want to be perceived as nervous, he wanted to be confident and sure of himself so that you would be confident in your soon to blossom affection for him.

His eyebrows, that’s a hard one, but he’d meticulously watched bar goers trying to flirt. The successful ones he learned, sometimes use their eyebrows in place of questions or words. A difficult concept, but one he studied until he mastered it.

Now, the other facial expressions and mannerisms… he gathered that information from your watch lists on your streaming services. For the visible examples at least, but your books were just as helpful in describing how he should approach you, speak to you, and simply exist near you.

He hadn’t realized these things were this important until now. Standing and posture was surprisingly very, very important to women. As well as hand movements and subtle glances and minuscule changes of expression.

You were worth the time and effort it took to learn all of it. He’d read and research and practice until he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror any longer. He was determined to make sure you were happy with the results.

He was startled by a loud ping, someone had entered to building and holy shit it was you.

Anakin shook out his hands frantically, remembering the breathing techniques he’d learned as a child, he grounded himself quickly.

It’s okay.

‘She��s gonna love you. She’ll warm up to you quickly, you know everything you need to know about her to make her comfortable and loved.’

‘There’s no way she won’t fall head over heels.’

He smoothed out his band-tee and ran his hands through his hair quickly and headed to his door that was propped open slightly. A few boxes sat in the hall, including the most important one, the one instrumental to his plan.

The apartment hallway was ridiculously tiny, which worked in his favor in this situation.

He heard you come up the stairs, counted your steps until he knew you were almost at the door, 17 and a half steps. Then he swung open the door and bent down to grab one of the boxes.

As expected, he startled you and you dropped your keys. You always wore your backpack on one shoulder, one strap. So when you quickly went to scoop up your keys, your bag swung out of place and toppled a few books from one of the boxes.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Anakin could gloat to himself about his magnificent setup later, right now he needed to woo you with his sweet words.

“Oh, sweetheart I’m sorry.” He said softly, coming over to offer you a hand up.

“It’s okay, my bad.” You laughed, taking his hand.

He managed to keep calm and collected despite his insides boiling him alive at the willing skin contact.

“No, not at all. It’s my fault for startling you like that.” He chuckled, squeezing your upper arm and using his hand already in yours to give you a small handshake. Smooth.

“I’m Anakin.” He said with a bashful smile, dropping your hand and reveling in the lingering warmth your palm left on his.

You introduced yourself in return, gesturing to his apartment door.

“So I take it that you’re my new neighbor huh?” You said, making small talk as you crouched down to pick up the books you’d knocked over.

“No I’m just a one man moving crew.” He grinned.

“Very funny.” You laughed, standing up as you looked through the titles. “Hmm, you’ve got good taste.”

“You think so?” He asked, remembering to make his eyebrows swoop up toward the middle of his forehead to give a quizzical look.

“Oh yeah, this is one of my favorites.” You said, showing him the cover of The Silmarillion by Tolkien.

“Not many people actually read that one, I’m impressed.” He smiled.

“Impressed? Yeah well I’m jealous.” You laughed.

“What?” He chuckled, holding his hands out to take the other books from you.

“This is a really nice edition, it’s similar to mine. I recently lost it.” You sighed. “I think I must’ve left it the park or maybe it fell out of my bag or something.”

“Ah, that sucks… well, I mean I’ve read that one a few times now. It’s been well loved.” He said tipping the books in his arms toward the one you were holding. “Why don’t you keep it?”

He shrugged, acting nonchalant as though this didn’t mean the entire world to him and if you said no he’d sob about it later.

“You’re serious?” You asked in surprise, he was offering you a 50$ special edition book and you’d barely known him for a minute.

“Yeah, ‘course sweetheart.” He said with a cute, crooked smile. “Think of it as a… reverse house warming gift.” He chuckled.

“Thank you, I- this means a lot to me.” You said, grinning widely. “That’s real sweet of you Anakin. I owe you one.”

“No worries.” He chuckled, “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it even sweetheart.” His gaze flickered quickly from your eyes to your lips, and he turned to go back into his apartment after giving you an almost-missed wink.

You stepped inside your home, and went straight to the bookshelf to put your new-to-you book where it belonged. After the fact you stood there and buffered, just staring at it.

‘There’s no way, this guy has to be too good to be true.’

But he seemed… so genuine. He didn’t ogle you, he didn’t make you feel weird or like he just felt obligated to speak to you.

He seemed to actually, really be a good guy.

Rare. Few and far of those exist in this day and age. It’s uncommon to meet someone who would do something, even as simple as giving you a used book, without expecting anything in return.

But he didn’t seem to expect anything. He didn’t seem to even expect a thank you, it was like he’d already decided he would give it to you before he even offered.

What are the odds that a hot, tattooed and pierced man moves in next door and gifts you an expensive book that just so happens to be an even better replacement for the one that you just lost? That couldn’t happen twice even if you tried to make it happen again.

What kind of second dimension did you step into? The land of dreamy men?

Diary Entry: July 28th

It’s late. But I have to write to you, it can’t wait til tomorrow.

Everything went more perfectly than I could’ve imagined. Thank you so much for being you sweet girl. It made my job of curating the scenery so much easier, you clumsy little thing. I am sorry for having to spook you though, but it worked didn’t it?

Research pays off. Always.

And of course there’s the issue of your book, I hated to see your frustration and your mad scowl when you realized it was missing from your backpack. I really did.

But I’d do it every goddamn day if I knew I’d get the same reaction out of you from giving you that new copy.

Oh god you’re… you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful. You look angelic when you sleep but you look like competition for Aphrodite when you smile at me.

You smiled, grinned. You smiled all the way up to the corners of your bright and beautiful eyes. For me.

You even laughed for me.

It was so sweet I could taste it. The honey of your voice, I could fucking bathe in it. Just the sound of you speaking, knowing you were speaking to me. Really speaking to me.

In the flesh.

It’s intoxicating. It’s emboldening, it’s dangerous. I’ve never been more worked up in my life. I’m torn all to pieces from at two minute and 6 second conversation.

I think I’ll have to fucking recover from this like a damn hangover.

But what has me so drunk you might ask? Was it your laugh at my stupid jokes? Was it your perfect smile, your radiant glow, your soulful eyes? The softness of your skin or you willingness to let me touch you?

No baby. It’s how you said my name.

I wish I could’ve stayed longer, I wish I could’ve spoken to you more. But it’s so hard to concentrate when my dick is leaking precum down my leg at a rate that should probably be concerning.

The minute you closed that door I shoved those boxes into my apartment and locked the door. Took my elated ass straight to the couch and watched you in your living room, admiring your gift from me while I fucked my fist with a pair of your dirty panties in my mouth.

I couldn’t have your honeyed lips soothing my angry red cock just yet, but I sure as hell could imagine licking your gorgeous little cunt while I tasted you.

I tugged my balls and pumped my cock for over half an hour until I was a fucking mess for you in my new living room’s floor. The cool hardwood letting the heat from my flushed skin seep away from me as I came back down to earth.

I made myself dizzy. Didn’t give myself a break, didn’t slow down, just stroked my cock like the desperate little manwhore that I am for you. The only thing missing was you being there to watch me fall apart.

I think you’d like that wouldn’t you? Watching a man like me get on his knees and beg for you?

Diary Entry: July 29th

I’ve replayed that moment in my head for hours on end. The beginning always stays the same, but the ending… that’s been subject to many changes. It started off simple, we’d chat alittle longer, I’d ask you how your day was; you’d tell me it was ‘fine, thank you’.

Or you’d ask me why I decided to move in, why I chose this side of town, this side of town, this apartment building, across from you. That one always ended questionably and I’d rather not explore that one on paper.

My favorites however were the ones where you’d laugh at a stupid pick-up line and somehow we’d end up in your bed. The bed I’ve sat and watched you sleep in. Those were the best additions.

Now, I’ve been fortunate enough that you’ve been loyal, faithful and devoted to only me since the very beginning. So I don’t really have a clue what you’d actually be like in bed.

But god it’s so fun to imagine it.

You’ve got such pretty, soft skin. You let me mar it up with my teeth and soothe it with my tongue. You let me grip the pillowy flesh of your thighs to spread you open for me. You let me pinch and roll and pull your nipples until they were raw and begging for a break. You let me caress the sensitive slick covered folds between those beautiful pussy lips, plunge my fingers in as far as they’d go.

I took you from behind, watching your perky little ass bounce off my cock while I plowed into you. Your face smushed against the couch cushions and your body folded over the arm rest for me to fuck you like the good little girl that you are.

Against the wall with your arms around my neck while I’ve got my hands holding you spread open and in place by the crook of your knees. You promised you stay real still so that I could drill up into you like you deserved.

God damn. Do you know how good you look like that? Back arched against the wall, tits jiggling in my face with every thrust. Your legs pushed up and back to the sides of your torso, to pin you in place?

It was like a pretty pink flower had bloomed and spread its buttery smooth petals just for me.

Don’t even get me started on how good you suck cock. Have you ever been told you could be mistaken for a warm, wet Hoover? No? Didn’t think so cause that would be rude as hell, but I bet someone’s thought it before.

(Me. It’s me, I thought that.)

Fuck those soft lips. Fuck that smooth snake of a tongue. Fuck that tight, hot throat that just loves to take a beating from my dick.

Can’t wait to prove my imagination right.

Speaking of, my dick has been beat. Like actually. If one didn’t know any better they’d assume it’s on life support, but I’m a freak of nature. Cumming upwards of 16 times in the span of 40ish hours would probably put a weaker man in a hospital bed. Or maybe a psych ward.

But I am not a weak man even if my dick feels raw. I’d still fuck you if you asked.

I’d be curious to know if I’d be able to stave off cumming longer from all the abuse or if I’d be so fucking sensitive that I wouldn’t make it in half an inch.

Probably the latter.

Diary Entry: August 2nd

Being so close to you is killing me. Truly it is.

You’ve sunken your claws so deeply into my very soul and you don’t even realize it. It’s torture. To you, I’m just the new guy, nice dude who gave you a book. But to me? You’re my entire world.

I’ve been told I have the personality of a guard dog. Soft and squishy on the inside, dangerous and fierce on the outside. Which I suppose could be true, but really I think it’s for a different reason. For a human, a dog is one small but very impactful blip in your life. But for the dog? You are it’s life.

Am I comparing myself to a dog right now? Yes I am.

I’ll beg for you to throw me the scraps of your affections until you finally toss me a bone.

Bark.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I’ve been trying my best to give you space. To plan accordingly and in advance. I have our next two interactions simmering on the back burner.

I know that if I go too hard, too fast, you’ll be overwhelmed. That’s the last thing I want. I never want to be the thing that causes you stress, I want to siphon it from you. So, in one week I will set out to help you with a few of your errands and plant a few seeds.

But until then, we have late night snacks and couch chats with Boogie.

I’ve also been doing- you guessed it- more research to do with helpful vitamins and medicines. You’ve responded so well to your SleepyTime tea and since I’ve started making sure your birth control packet is plainly visible in the countertop basket directly beneath that cabinet, you’ve been taking it so well.

I’m so proud of you sweetheart, that’s my girl, look at you taking care of yourself. You’ve done so well in fact, that it’s in my personal opinion that you have earned a very special reward.

Anakin sat on his couch, the live feed of your living room screen mirrored to his Tv. He was watching you cook dinner, he knew you’d be making a stir fry. He’d seen it in your planner, so he’d taken the liberty of ordering himself the same, it’d be here any minute. As would your good friend Sam.

Anakin had originally burned red hot with jealousy at the thought of you inviting a man over to your apartment, that he hadn’t vetted via social media and a quick drop-in. But he was relieved to discover that Sam was just a girl from your book club.

This wasn’t one of his well thought out plans, this was decided upon this morning after you’d returned from book club. So, he was anxious to see if his hunches served him well. Sam seemed like a punctual gal, at least from what he’d seen on social media and the text messages between the two of you from weeks/months before.

Anakin had the wonderful idea to log into your cell service providers website to pull your deleted messages from their data bank. You really should have better passwords.

The thing he was most worried about was his door dasher arriving on time. It was rare that one was too far off on arrival time, but it would be his shit luck and lack of planning that could ruin this little glimpse of you.

The minutes ticked by and he was alerted to the new motion sensors he’d placed near the LED pathway lights on the paved entrance to the apartment building. He quickly switched over to the hallway feed at the front door, seeing that it was his door dasher.

Damn you Trevor. How dare you get there before Sam.

Not to worry, he’d call for the door code and Anakin wouldn’t answer the first time. It wasn’t much but it would buy him a few seconds.

Though it seemed to be that luck was on his side as it often was when it came to you. Sam was so kind, kind enough to let the delivery guy into the building. Which is technically a security concern but Trevor didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d be able to remember a 6 digit door code.

He was too busy staring at your friends ass to pay attention to the numbers she entered anyway.

The footsteps approached your door and his, Anakin waited until he heard Sam knock on your door before he opened his. Trevor stood patiently as Anakin slowly counted out his tip in cash and thankfully you were quick to let your friend inside. After the exchange was complete Anakin gave you a smile and wave.

He could’ve had a heart attack at the response you gave him.

A flirty little finger waggle and smile.

He had to remind himself to breathe and keep his expression a happy-neutral. He’d hate for you to see his blushing cheeks this early on.

“Have a good night girls.” He said as he closed his door and to his surprise you actually answered.

“You too!”

If he weren’t confident that you were a sweet and loving soul, he’d think you were trying to kill him with the siren song of your voice.

Stir fry had never tasted so fucking good.

Diary Entry: July 8th

Grocery day baby, here I come.

I love that you’re so predictable. I love that you’re so fucking cute and always try to strong arm your groceries in one trip. I love that it takes at least two good whacks to the trunk of your shitty old Nissan to properly close it.

It’s cute to watch you struggle with it, the annoyed huffs and angry scowl.

I thought you’d combust on the spot once when your paper grocery bag of flour and sugar ripped open and sent a plume of flour up on your black jeans. The parking lot was very empty and I was very glad because I’d hate for someone to have seen the cursing contest you had with yourself as you picked up your spilled items. Very unladylike you know. But it’s you so I don’t mind, I just like to hear you talk.

It’s almost time. I’ve been sitting in my car for about 10 minutes. Gotta account for the traffic on highway 76. Do you really have to shop all the way out there just because of the Whole Foods? C’mon baby they have the same shit at Kroger.

I’ve been watching your little blue dot on my phone and you’re rounding the corner so I’ll write you later doll.

I love you.

You pulled into the parking lot and sat in your car for a moment. Giving yourself the much need quiet to decompress from your work day and the grocery trip. After you’d checked your messages and scrolled for a moment you decided it was time to head inside before your frozen foods got… not so frozen.

You popped the trunk and fumbled with the faulty latch, your fingers feeling blindly under the metal lip until it finally detached and you were able to open the trunk.

You took a deep breath and scolded yourself for buying the extra few things that could’ve waited till next time. Second trips are for wimps and you weren’t one. So you loaded up your left arm bag by bag until you heard a humored puff of air and the beep of a car locking behind you.

“Need a hand sweetheart?” Anakin grinned, shoving his keys into his front pocket.

He waltzed over and took a few bags off your hands without waiting for a response. It took you aback, not because he hadn’t waited for permission, but because of the way he exuded an odd charm that made you falter.

“Anakin, really it’s alright I can get it.” You said, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion by his kind gesture.

“Mmm no, this seems like a two man mission sweet girl.” He smiled, gathering up a few the last few bags from the trunk and shutting it with one solid push.

“You really don’t have to-“

“I know I don’t have to.” He said tilting his head toward the apartment building to encourage you to walk with him. “I want to.”

“Thank you, that’s… thanks.” You smiled, a light blush creeping across your cheeks.

“Atta girl.” He chuckled, tapping in the door code and holding it open for you despite holding many more bags than you.

Something about the low tone of voice or maybe just the way he looked at you with his icey blue eyes… just sent a chill down your spine. A quick one that was gone in an instant, replaced by a warm glow in the center of your chest.

“Guess chivalry’s not dead.” You joked.

“I’m no knight.” He laughed, “but you’re sure as hell a princess.”

‘Oh that was smooth.’ You thought, trying to ignore the heat at the bottom of your stomach.

What is happening? How on earth can one man be so… everything? Kind, caring, chivalrous and gorgeous to boot.

You felt a wave of embarrassment at the squeaky giggle you let out. He had you tore up from one little comment.

True to the gentleman he seemed to be, he chose not to push it and tease you about your beet red cheeks. He just waited patiently for you as you unlocked your door.

“Do you want me to bring these in for you?” He asked, watching your movements closely.

“Oh that would be great.” You said in relief, leading him into your kitchen.

“Cute little place.” He said, looking around the kitchenette and over to the living room.

He sat down your bags on the counter and started unloading them neatly into rows.

“Oh, you-“

“Mmm mmm.” He shook his head with a smirk, “Just let me help, it’s no big deal.”

You let out a puff of air in an amused sort of amazement and pulled out your little step stool to open up the cabinets. Anakin snickered from behind you as you stepped up and started putting things away.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder and almost said something snarky until you realized he was folding your paper grocery bags in the same way that you always do.

“Huh.” You laughed. “I thought I was the only one who did that.”

“Did what?” He asked, his head cocked to the side.

“Fold the bags.” You said, turning back around to continue placing your things where they belonged.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I dunno it’s just a habit I guess. Fits better in that stupid slot on the recycling bin this way.”

“Yeah I never really understood why they made them that way? I guess so people don’t just shove other trash in there.” You mused.

“Mmhm probably.” He agreed, stacking them neatly and gathering it in his hands. “Do you want me to take these out back for you?”

“I can do-“ You stopped yourself when Anakin raised his eyebrow and cocked his head to the side with a crooked smirk.

You sighed and gave him a downturned smile. “Yes, I would love for you to take them out back for me.”

“Good girl.” He nodded, clicking his tongue and heading for the door. “See ya princess.”

After he shut the door you let yourself breathe alittle easier, blowing out the air in a short puff through your nose. Maybe even letting a little smile cross your lips before you finished up your task.

You’d be thinking about that low rumble of his voice later. Good girl? Shit.

PART FIVE

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jkslipppiercing · 9 months

Text

I'll show you | Part 2 | jjk

♡ summary: you show jungkook how much you love him...by giving him head.

♡ genre: a bit of angst, fluff, and smut all in one (mostly smut and fluff) (idk)

♡ pairing: boyfriend!jk, soft dom!oc.

♡ warnings: a LOT of kissing, jungkook is frustrated/mad, oc gives jk a blowjob, gagging is mentioned, oral (m receiving), dick sucking, he cums in her mouth, praise, jk calls her a good girl.

♡ WC: 2.6K

♡ a/n: enjoy 😮‍💨🤭

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After leaving you with an incredulous weight of frustration on your back, Jungkook had showered, gotten dressed, and hung out in the living room.

He's sat there, knees spread wide apart, forearms under his head, looking at the tv through his thick lashes with a head lazily laid back on the headrest; shamelessly offering his masculinity.

The wails of the tv blend into a chaotic blur of white noise in the back of your head, and the awkwardness that basically radiates off of you is almost palpable.

You switch your weight from one foot to the other, only to give yourself something to do.

"Show me" replays in your head over and over again, and you simply can't make it stop.

What on earth does he mean by that?

Show him what?

Should you bake him a cake or something?

No...that won't do.

Well...what about writing him a letter?

Seriously?

This is fucking ridiculous.

You don't realize you've said that out loud until he flicks a gaze over to you.

His eyes hold yours for a mere second. You think he might actually say something, so you stare back at him in anticipation of some sort of reaction.

...which never comes.

His gaze trails back to where it was originally settled, watching the tv as he feigns interest.

This is so damn frustrating.

Deciding to test the waters with him, you take a few steps forward.

His eyes remain stubbornly fixed on the tv, and as you come to a halt in front of him, he still refuses to look at you- so he settles on staring at a point behind you.

He's being childish.

Too bad, because you won't fucking have it anymore.

"Show me" blares in your conscience as a reminder.

Your foot enters his personal bubble of space, and as a first initiated interaction from him, he spreads his knees a little for you to fit between his legs.

The action sparks a flame of hope upon what could be.

Okay...

Now what?

In a split second of hesitation, you abandon all thoughts of rationality and take a seat. On him.

He lets you.

Knees digging into the couch on either side of his waist, you straddle him. The brush of your core against his crotch sends an electrifying jolt up your spine, and he finally looks at you when he notices how your breath shallows.

He doesn't speak, and neither do you.

Hands in need of holding onto something, you delve them into his hair. You play with the hair on the back of his head, scratching his scalp.

He always loved the gesture, humming approvingly whenever you went on with it; but now, the coldness of the silence weighing the air between you spreads an ache through your chest.

He just stares.

Another emotion accompanies the ache, and you soon recognize it to be challenge.

So you lean forward and latch your lips onto his jaw. To start off slow, you kiss the slant of it sweetly. Inching down a bit and boldly licking a long stripe up the length of his neck, you're satisfied once jungkook sucks in a sharp breath.

As you make out with the length of his neck, an urge to grind on his dick grows- but you fight it.

When you bite down on his sweet spot, he groans disapprovingly, which causes you to lick and suck on the area to dull the pain.

The throbbing ache of your heart intensifies when you realize he still hasn't laid a hand on you.

"What are you doing?" He roughly rasps out, clenching his jaw when you give his throat one last kiss before you pull away.

You widen your eyes innocently, deceptively showing a stance of confusion.

"Hm?" Your hands remain unrelenting as they comb through his strands. Planting one last peck on his jaw, you fully straighten. "What am i doing?"

Echoing his words only did so much as to avoiding his question, but you don't break the act even when his stare hardens.

He looks away, and your heart just about shatters.

With now softer eyes, you chase his line of vision as you tilt your head to the side, catching his eyes with desperate ones of your own.

"Still mad at me?" Hands slowly slipping away from his nape, you look down, afraid you might actually cry if this goes on any longer.

Enough.

It started off with the both of you being mad at each other, and you found his anger so over-exaggerated that you became just as pissed at him as he was at you.

-is. He is pissed at you.

Well, now, frustration gave way to just as much misery as anger.

Your raging emotions of upsetness subsided to show those of sadness.

It's only been a short while since he last had his hands on you, but it feels as long as a lifetime.

"Fuck, I'm not- I'm not mad at you, y/n." The frustration nestled in between the dips of his voice is palpable, and your tears burn the back of your eyes. You blink in effort to push them back.

A lump in your throat grows, and you force it back down with a thick swallow, eyes never meeting his as they stay fixed on his shirt.

Fiddling with your hands is all you can do, but you muster a weak answer. "Sure seems like it to me."

It might sound angry, but it's soft. Defeated.

He runs a hand through his hair, and the position you're in looks awkward, but it's not. Not in the least.

On the contrary, it's comfortable; familiar. Feelings of security lighten up the thickness of the tension in the atmosphere, poorly so.

"Do you not love me anymore?" The question has you looking up so fast you're afraid your neck might snap.

Vulnerability swirls in his dark chocolate eyes, bleeding through his tone, and you want to kiss the hurt that accompanies it away.

You narrow your eyes in disbelief. "Will you stop saying that, for god's sake?"

"You didn't answer the question."

"You want an answer?" You shoot back, and he maintains a blank expression in response.

A small "mhm" urges you on.

"That just might be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say." His eyes light up with intrigue. "'Why?' you might ask? Well, baby, too bad for you, 'cause you're stuck with me." A bitter laugh erupts from you, and he cracks a sad smile.

"You're the most lovable, supportive boyfriend I could ever have, and I would never change a single thing about you. There's nothing to even change!" You exclaim in disbelief as you open your arms in expression.

The lightest pink blush dusts his cheeks, and he looks away.

You shift his chin with your index finger so he's looking at you again. "I'm not done."

Biting back a smile at your sassiness, he lets you continue.

"You are love itself. Saying that I love you would be such an embarrassing understatement. I believe heaven belongs with you, my soul entertwined with yours. Fuck, i love you so damn much it hurts, man."

You manage a chuckle out of him, which makes you smile yourself.

When you see his own initiation to speak, you trail a hand down his torso which makes him shut his mouth just as fast as he opened it.

"Will you let me show you?" Your hand stops where both your bodies meet, and you smile in triumph when his breath hitches.

You feel powerful- dominant- and in control of his body, so you lean forward by intention of pressing your lips to his- which caused him to close his eyes, in anticipation of the kiss- but you stop just shy of them.

When you stay there for a couple of seconds, his eyes open to reveal a never-ending darkness of lust and need.

You smirk, and for the first time this evening, his hand shoots to the back of your neck and grabs your nape.

The harsh movement makes your heartbeat skid to a stop, and it's as if he's reminding you who the one in charge here is.

Even though he is quite literally under you, he still manages to steal your breath away.

He replies to your earlier comment, voice scratched and restrained. "Oh yeah?" That alone sends heat barreling down the depths of your sex. "And just how exactly are you going to do that?"

A sardonic smile tips the corners of his lips up as he eyes your own.

You part your lips involuntarily, which causes him to lick his own pink ones. He bites down on his lips with restraint, and the simple action has you so wet you're almost uncomfortable.

But you pay your horniness no mind as you slip from his hands and settle on your knees in front of him, sneakily cupping him through his pants.

"Like this." His lids shutter closed with hitched breathing. He closes his eyes and his breath grows ragged beneath you as he lazily stretches out and spreads his knees further in invitation.

He's sporting a semi as you feel him through the fabric, and you grow impatient.

He eyes your movements as you place your hands on his belt before looking up into his eyes innocently. "May I?"

Your voice comes out so casually; it doesn't even sound like you're on your knees, asking your boyfriend if you can suck his cock.

He looks down at you with a hooded gaze. "Be my guest."

You smile in return.

Finding it unnecessary to waste any more time, you unbuckle his belt before you pull his pants down.

Kissing him through his briefs, you salivate at the little spot of precum leaking from the head of his length.

After pulling those down as well, you're met with the magnificent sight of his cock as it slaps against his abdomen.

"Fuck, I love your cock." And you lick a long stripe up his length before you stroke him sensually.

He chuckles at your comment, his breath cutting short when you kitty lick his tip. Nibbling and kissing lightly, your actions cause him to clench his hands by his sides in effort not to touch you.

"But not as much as I love you."

At that, he groans, which motivates you on to taking him in your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his tip reminds you of how familiar this all feels.

His body, his scent, his cock-

Everything about him is to die for.

You tease him as you refuse to take him deeper in your mouth, sucking on his tip to make him grow desperate for your touch- which is exactly the reaction you get to your teasing.

"Stop." The desperation laced into the demanding end of his voice awakens butterflies in your lower belly. "Stop teasing me, y/n."

He's on the verge of begging, but not quite there...yet.

"Hm..." You moan around his cock as you take him deeper, inch by inch, like a "good girl" as he likes to call you.

You stack your fists above each other on the length that doesn't fit in your mouth- he's fucking huge- as the tip nudges the back of your throat.

The gag that you fight to keep down makes your eyes water, and when you look up at him through teary eyes and saliva leaking through your mouth, he's just about done for.

A hitched, breathless- horny- moan rips out of his throat and he throws his head back- afriad he might bust if he looks at you any longer- as his hands fly to your hair.

He holds onto his dear life when you move your head, sucking him dry and stroking what doesn't fit.

A rushed "fuck" blows out of his lips in a breathless plea, your head bobbing up and down his cock while his hands help you.

"You take me so well." He grits out, making your cheeks redden in color as you grow shy.

The irony of your shyness as you suck his dick is immaculate, but he was always one to know just how much you loved praise.

"You gonna take my cum as well?" he's struggling to contain himself as his whole body tenses; he's so close. "yeah? Like the good girl you are?"

You hum around him, and his eyes look down at you only to find yours staring right back up at him.

He groans.

"So fucking beautiful" he thinks.

"Goddamnit, you're so fucking mine." His jaw clenches as his chest rises and falls with uneven heavy breaths, his hands portaying his emotions as he balls your hair up in his fists and pushes you down further.

You can't help but gag, putting every last effort into getting him off, quickening your pace. Your jaw aches- and so does your pussy, pulsing with need- but you put that aside and watch him in all his glory, gazing up at him with innocent teary eyes.

With one last thrust up your throat- and a hushed curse under his breath- Jungkook holds your gaze till the very last second, even as his cum shoots up your throat.

You hold his tip in your between your lips, sucking lightly, and he throws his head back. With his hands keeping your head in place, he's fucking his dick lazily into your mouth until the very last drop.

"Fuck" might be his favorite curse word, and it surely is, as he moans it loudly before his hands disappear from your hair and he slouches back onto the couch; his features showing no signs but pure satisfaction.

You press one last kiss to his cock, a warm goodbye- for now- and help him tuck his spent length back into his briefs.

He looks at you with that after-orgasm glow, and your breaths quicken as your core throbs with need.

You ignore the impulse to jump on his dick and ride it to no remorse, straddling him instead.

You've always loved cuddles after sex, and while he preferred cigarettes, you were nothing but a romantic in bed compared to him.

He holds your jaw in place as he joins your lips to his, his tongue invading your mouth. Just the single thought of him wanting to taste himself throws your senses into overdrive, and you let out a whimper.

Not wanting to tire him out any further, you pull away.

"Come on, let's head to bed." As you try to get up and ready for a good night's sleep, him holding you in place doesn't let you.

You can't budge as he kisses you again and pulls away only to say, "Nuh-uh" rather sassily.

"Yuh-huh." You respond with the same sassy tone he used, which causes him to smile against your lips.

You can physically feel every single part of your body melt into him.

You've always loved when he smiles against your lips, but now that you're horny out of your mind, he's so incredibly hard to resist.

He swallows your moan when he cups your ass and squeezes.

"I love you, Jungkook." You play with his hair.

"I love you more, baby."

"No, you don't." You challenge.

"Yeah? might need to suck me off again for a reminder." The taken-aback expression on your face elicits a proud chuckle from him before he kisses you again.

He just can't get enough of your lips.

Or your body.

Or you.

His lips inch toward your throat as he basically colors your neck with purplish marks.

You shiver before you realize where this is going.

Sly motherfucker. (full of love, like, not in a rude way).

"Jungkook."

A warning and a dare.

He looks at you with hooded, lustful eyes, even though he just came about five minutes ago.

"I'm not done with you yet." His dark tone catches your attention, and you choose wisely not to argue.

"My turn."

should i make a third part 🙊

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#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfiction #jungkook ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #smut #jungkook smut #fluff #jungkook fluff #jeon jk #jungkook jeon

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lupinqs · 6 days

Text

CHAPTER FOUR ━━ Caged Bird

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.9K

☆ ━ warnings: literally just outright homophobia w a slur (sorry), conversion therapy, religious guilt, dani’s just super fuckin depressed, too damn long to proofread

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: here is where you can learn more about conversion therapy. believe it or not, this is still a fucking problem in the US today, as an estimated 20,000 minors are subjected to it yearly i believe. just because instances of it are included in this does NOT by any means mean that i condone it. one of my friends actually went through something similar for a little while and it’s so fucked up. if anything, this is to bring awareness of the fact that shit like this is still happening!!!!!!

MAY 2019

DANIELLE CALLAN has never felt more content in her life. The soft morning lights spill through the blinds, casting golden stripes across her bedspread. She stretches lazily, her body still buzzing happily from last night. Everything has finally fallen into place. She and Paige finally said it—finally admitted their feelings, after all the years of hiding behind jealous stares, half-hearted jokes, and touches that lingered far too long to be deemed friendly.

Paige left earlier this morning, ready to catch her flight that’ll take her away for the rest of the summer. But even the distance can’t dampen the giddiness Dani feels, all over, almost like she’s caught some sort of illness that has her body and mind repeating Paige, Paige, Paige over and over again. She lays in bed, replaying when Paige she kissed her on the porch, when she kissed her goodnight, when she kissed her good morning, when she kissed her goodbye. Her mind glazes over as she remembers the blonde whispering “I love you” into her ear like it was a secret only they were allowed to share. It all felt so right, so natural, like they’ve always meant to be together in that way.

Dani pulls her phone from the nightstand, grinning at the last text Paige sent her, the one she’s been glancing at all morning.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

Boarding now. I love you

Can i call you when I land

Dani ❤️‍🔥

ofc you can

i love you too have a safe flight ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥!!!!!

Dani holds her phone to her chest, cheeks blooming pink, a smile spreading across her face. It’s real now. All of it. For the first time, she doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to wonder if Paige feels the same way. The uncertainty is gone, replaced by a warmth that makes her feel like she’s floating.

Reluctantly, she swings her legs over the side of the bed, knowing she has to get up. She pads over to the window, trying to pul the curtains open a bit more, eager to let the light flood in. However, it seems as though they’re jammed, and, after a poor fight on her part, Dani sighs, rolling her eyes and letting the curtains stay closed, engulfing the room in darkness.

Nevertheless, she’s still smiling as she heads downstairs, the scent of coffee wafting through her nose, the faint sound of the TV playing in the living room registering. Her dad’s probably watching his usual morning news, she figures. She feels lighter than air as she bounces down the steps, a pure happiness that’s been harder to come by recently.

But as she reaches the bottom of the stairs, something about the atmosphere seems to shift. Dani’s stomach flips anxiously; the air feels heavy all of a sudden—thick. She pauses, her hand resting on the banister as she peers into the living room. Her dad is sitting in his usual spot on the couch, but something seems different—off. He’s hunched over, elbows on his knees, his phone in his hand. The TV’s on, but the volume is low, almost as if it’s been forgotten.

Not to mention that her dad’s expression isn’t what Dani’s used to seeing. There’s no relaxed, Saturday-morning ease in the way he sits. Instead, his face is set in a rigid, tense mask, his jaw clenched so tightly Dani can see the muscles in his neck straining. His eyes are fixed on his phone, unmoving, and there’s a darkness in them that makes her want to go right back up to her room.

“Dad?” Dani’s voice is cautious, her lighthearted mood evaporating as she takes a few tentative steps forward. “You okay?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at her. It’s odd. Usually, he’d greet her with some offhand remark or ask about her plans for the day. But now, there’s nothing. Just silence.

Dani’s unease grows, her inside twisting with unfamiliar dread. She steps closer, trying to get a better look at him. “Dad?”

Finally, he looks up. His eyes meet hers, and the expression on his face is enough to make her swallow thickly, unsure how to feel. He looks at her angrily, coldly, and it sends a jolt through Dani’s chest.

He says nothing at first. Instead, he simply turns his phone around, showing her the screen. At first, she can’t make out what she’s looking at—just a video, playing on a small square of the screen. But then her heart plummets into her stomach as she recognizes what exactly is being filmed. The porch. Her and Paige. Last night.

Her breath catches in her throat as she watches the footage. There Dani is, fumbling with her keys while Paige kisses her neck, whispering those three words that meant everything. The video captured it all—the giggles shared between them, the way Dani turned around and pulled Paige in for another kiss, savoring it. This moment that was meant to be just theirs, is now playing out in front of Dani’s father’s eyes.

Fuck. Dani should have realized, should have remembered. They have a Ring doorbell—it takes footage of any movement near it. But she was drunk and stupid and in love and she’d forgotten. And now, by the look on her dad’s face, she’s about to pay for that.

Her mouth goes dry, her heart hammering in her chest as she looks up at her father. He’s still holding his phone out, eyes smoldering with an anger that makes her feel like she can’t breathe.

“Dad,” she whispers, voice barely audible. “I can explain—”

“What the hell is this, Danielle?” he interrupts, his tone low, the kind he only uses when he’s really, really angry. It makes her flinch.

She opens her mouth, but words don’t come. What can she say? How can she possibly explain something she’s barely had enough time to process herself?

Her dad stands abruptly, his movements sharp and filled with barely restrained rage. “You think this is acceptable? In my house? Under my rules? I—I don’t know what happened. You’ve always been a good girl. Danielle, you have a relationship with Christ! How could you do this? How could you throw everything I’ve given you, everything I’ve done for you, everything God has done for you for… for this?” He shakes the phone in his direction, his voice rising. “For this disgusting, sinful bullshit!”

Dani recoils like she’s been slapped, the weight of his words pressing down on her. The thoughts that she’s pushed to the back burner of her mind echo quietly, agreeing with her father. It’s wrong. A girl loving another girl is wrong. Sinful. But the part of her mind that’s taken over, the one that thinks about the blonde basketball player day and night and can’t help but think about how right it felt to be with Paige in that way, fights back. “I—I can explain, I swear—” she starts, but is quickly interrupted.

“Explain what?” he spits, face twisted in disgust and disappointment. “There’s nothing to explain, Danielle. I saw it. I saw you—kissing that girl. Paige.” He says her name like it’s some kind of poison, and it makes Dani’s chest constrict. “I knew something was off about that friendship. You think I haven’t noticed how you two are always together, always too close?”

Tears well up in Dani’s eyes, her whole body tensing in a panic. “It’s not like that—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he snaps, eyes flaring. “I saw what I saw. And I won’t tolerate this… this perversion under my roof.”

The tears begin to pull over now, Dani’s chest heaving as she tries to fight the sobs that rip through her. “Dad, please—”

“You’re not seeing her again,” he cuts her off, his voice final, cold. “I don’t care how long you’ve been friends. I don’t care that you’ve known her since you were kids. I don’t care that she’s our next door neighbor. Whatever that is, it’s ended. Now.”

Dani shakes her head frantically, panicking, tears falling faster. “You can’t do that!” she shouts, voice cracking. “Please, Paige is—she’s my best friend—please—we”

“No!” he yells over her, vocals booming around the room. Dani flinches, her body trembling as she wraps her arms around herself. “You will not see her again. You won’t even go near her. Do you understand me?”

“Dad, please, just listen—”

“I said, do you understand me?” he repeats. “This is not up for discussion, Danielle. She’s a bad influence, a—” he hesitates, and then with a sneer that makes Dani’s stomach churn, he hisses, “She’s a filthy fag, and I won’t let her corrupt you any more than she already has.”

His words hang in the air like a death sentence, and Dani’s world tilts on its axis. It feels like the floor has been ripped out from beneath her. She’s never heard her father speak like this, never seen such venom in his voice. Of course she’s known he’s homophobic; he’s made off handed remarks every now and then, says things about how “those people” are disappointments to God. But this? The way he’s looking at her—it’s like she’s a complete stranger to him. Like he doesn’t even recognize his own daughter anymore.

The sobs break free through Dani’s chest and her hands shake as she covers her red-rimmed eyes with them. “Dad, please,” she begs, though she knows it’s probably useless at this point. “Please don’t do this.”

But her father’s expression doesn’t soften. If anything, it grows harder, colder. “Go to your room,” he says through clenched teeth. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Dani looks up at him, her vision blurred with tears. “Dad—”

“I said, go to your room!” he practically roars, and the sheer force of it makes her stumble backward toward the stairs, body shaking.

Her heart is in her throat and she’s trembling uncontrollably as she turns and runs up the steps, her sobs echoing in the otherwise silent house. She barely makes it to her room before collapsing onto her bed, her face buried in her pillow as she lets her tears free fall.

Everything’s ruined. Her dad hates her. He’s seen everything—and now he hates her.

And Paige…

Dani can’t even let herself think about that. How, just hours ago, she had everything, and—within minutes—it all slipped between her fingers.

And now all Dani can feel is shame.

JUNE 2019

The camp—if that’s what you could call it—isn’t the kind of summer camp Dani expected when her father first mentioned it to her. No, this place isn’t about hikes or bonfires or s’mores. It’s something else entirely.

They call it a “church camp,” but it didn’t take long for Dani to realize what it really is. Conversion therapy, as simple as that. A way to “fix” her, to cleanse her of her sins.

The camp is deep in the woods, secluded and quiet, the kind of place where no one would hear you scream, where no one would notice if you disappeared for a few months and come back changed. The other girls and boy here are like Dani—at least, that’s what she’s been told. They’ve been sent here to be “cured,” to be saved from the deviance inside of them, the sickness that led them astray from God’s light.

At first, Dani tries to resist. She fights it, mentally at least. The idea that something so integral to her—love—could be a disease was unthinkable. She thinks of Paige, her best friend, her first love, and tries to remind herself of the warmth, the joy, the rightness of it all. Paige always made her feel seen. Safe. Loved. How can any of that be a sin?

But as the weeks drag on, the messages seep in, and, slowly but surely, Dani’s defenses erode. The camp counselors—rigid, strict men and women with eyes that seem to stare straight into your soul—speak of salvation and sin in the same breath. They quote scripture, twisting it into something Dani never heard before, making her feel like her very existence is a rebellion against God.

They say the attraction she feels for Paige is a temptation, a test from the devil himself. That her love isn’t love at all, but lust, base, and immoral. Every day, they hammer this message into her through sermons, through private “sessions,” through exercises designed to break down her spirit, to rebuild her into someone who can conform, who can be pure again. They say they’re just trying to help her.

The forest surrounding the camp becomes a symbol of her isolation. The trees loom tall, casting long shadows over the compound, as if the very earth is trying to swallow her whole. There’s no escape, no outlet. Dani’s never felt more alone in her life. She wants to cry, to scream, to run, but there’s nowhere to go. No one to turn to.

Her days become a blur of routine and control. They take everything from her. Her phone, her freedom, her identity. She isn’t allowed to speak of Paige—hell, she isn’t even allowed to think of Paige without facing repercussions. They watch her closely, scrutinizing every move, every glance, every word, looking for any sign of weakness, any sign that she hasn’t fully accepted the “truth.”

Some days are easier than others. On the good days, Dani finds herself almost numb, going through the motions, letting the words of the counselors wash over her without sinking in. But on the bad days… the bad days are hell. On the bad days, the guilt is so overwhelming that she can hardly breathe. She’ll lay in her cot at night, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts she can’t quiet. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am sick. Maybe I’m not supposed to feel this way. Maybe… maybe Paige will be better off without me. Maybe I’ll be better off without Paige.

The worst part is that she can feel herself changing. Slowly, bit by bit, the person she’s always been—Dani, the girl who loves photography, the girl who loves to write, the girl who love Paige—slips away. In her place, there’s… someone else. Someone who’s afraid. Afraid of herself. Afraid of the world. Afraid of God.

There are moments, brief as they are, when Dani finds herself alone, sitting on the edge of the lake that borders the camp. The counselors allow “reflection time” out there, a chance to sit in nature and contemplate God’s will for their lives. Dani doesn’t feel God’s presence out there, though. Instead, she feels only emptiness. The lake, still and dark, mirrors the hollow ache in her chest, the ache that started the day her father found that video and had only grown since then.

She thinks of Paige during those moments. She can’t help it. Paige’s laugh, her smile, the way her fingers would brush against Dani’s hand when they were alone together. She thought of the way Paige’s voice had cracked, just slightly, when she’d said, “I love you,” as if it had been too heavy, too important, to carry without breaking.

And then the guilt would come rushing back in like a tidal wave, drowning out the memory of Paige’s touch. This isn’t right. I’m not supposed to feel this way. The counselors make sure of that. They drill it into her head day after day until she begins to doubt every thought, every feeling, every memory she has of Paige.

The uncertainty is the worst part. At night, lying in her narrow cot, Dani closes her eyes and tries to remember how it had felt to be with Paige. How, just a few short weeks ago, her heart had been so full of love that it felt like it might burst. But now, those memories feel like they belong to someone else, like they’re fading away, replaced by a gnawing doubt that maybe—just maybe—what she felt isn’t love at all.

The isolation gnaws at her. Dani’s faith—which, despite everything, was pure before—has become tainted, almost like she’s trying to crawl away from it—or at least, trying to crawl away from the twisted version of faith that the camp preaches. They tell her that God loves her but only if she can repent, only if she can reject the “unnatural desires” that have led her down this dark path. They tell her that true salvation means giving up everything she’s ever known, including Paige.

They don’t just want her to stop loving Paige. They want her to stop being herself.

But the hardest part is, after so many weeks, Dani doesn’t really know who exactly she is anymore. She feels like a shell of herself, hollowed out and empty, filled with nothing but fear and shame. And she begins to wonder if it’s working. If they’re right. If this is how it’s supposed to be.

But still, sometimes, Dani wakes up in the middle of the night, her heart pounding, her body drenched in sweat, a sense of panic so intense that she can hardly breathe. In these moments, she presses her face into the scratchy pillow, biting her lip to keep from screaming. Because in the darkness, in the quiet, when no one else is watching, she still wants Paige. She still loves her. No matter what they say, no matter how much they try to break her down, that small, fragile piece of her heart still beats for Paige.

And that scares her more than anything.

She doesn’t know how much longer she’ll be able to hold on to that part of herself. It’s slipping away, little by little, with every sermon, every “counseling” session, every prayer that she shoves down her throat. She’s being worn down, and she’s afraid that one day, she’ll wake up and not feel anything at all.

And maybe… maybe that’s what they want. Maybe that’s what God wants. Maybe that’s what she deserves.

Dani doesn’t even know how long she has left at the camp, nor how long she’s been there. After the first couple weeks, time begins to lose its meaning. She’s stopped counting the days (since they don’t tell her the date), stopped waiting for it to end.

JULY 2019

Dani sits in the chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes downcast as she stares at the scuffed linoleum floor. The room is cold, sterile, and devoid of any warmth or comfort. It’s the same room she’s been sitting in for the past two months, every time she’s called in for her one-on-one “therapy” sessions. The wooden cross on the wall looms large above her, a constant reminder of the weight she’s supposed to carry, the sin she’s meant to repent for.

Across from her sits Mrs. Keating, one of the camp’s lead counselors. She’s a stern woman, always impeccably dressed, with sharp features and cold, piercing blue eyes that seem to cut through whatever walls Dani tries to put up. She’s been Dani’s assigned counselor from the start, the one tasked with guiding her back to the “right” path, the one who’s delivered the harshest sermons about the dangers of temptation and sin.

Today is supposed to be their final session—or, at least, that’s what Dani has been told. She knows the routine by now. Mrs. Keating will ask her a series of questions, probing deeper into her thoughts, her feelings, her beliefs. Dani’s learned to say what’s expected of her, to give the answers the woman wants. At first, she resisted, clinging to the hope that she could hold onto who she really is, but that hope has withered away in the weeks she’s been here.

She isn’t even really sure who she is anymore.

Mrs. Keating sits behind her desk, her fingers laced together as she regards Dani with that unreadable expression she always wears. It’s a look that makes Dani feel small, insignificant, like a child being scolded.

“So, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating begins, her voice cool and steady, “you’ve been with us for quite some time now. How are you feeling?”

Dani swallows, her throat dry. She hates these questions. They always feel like traps, no matter how carefully she answers. But she knows better now than to hesitate. She’s learned what they want to hear, and she’s learned that it’s easier to comply than to fight.

“I feel… better,” Dani answers, her voice quiet, almost mechanical. “I feel like I’ve been able to reflect on… everything.”

“Good, that’s very good,” Mrs. Keating replies, nodding approvingly. “And what have you learned in your time here?”

Dani’s fingers twitch in her lap, her nails digging into her palms. She hates herself for what she’s about to say, but she can’t stop the words from slipping out. They feel foreign, like they were coming from someone else’s mouth. But she thinks they’re right. After all this time, everything she’s gone through here, how can they not be?

“I’ve learned that… what I was feeling before… it was wrong,” Dani murmurs, her heart heavy. “That it wasn’t love. It was temptation. Sin.”

Mrs. Keating’s smile is small, satisfied. “And you understand why that is, don’t you?”

Dani nods, her gaze still fixed on the floor. “Yes. Because God doesn’t want us to… live that way. It’s against His plan.”

“And your feelings for the girl… ?”

They don’t say her name. They never say her name. And Dani’s glad. They don’t deserve to say Paige’s name. She’s too good, too full of light, for all of this. Dani’s stomach twists as the image of Paige’s face flashes through her mind—her bright eyes, her playful smile, the way her touch always feels so soft and warm. Dani’s chest aches with the memory, but she pushes it down. She can’t think about that now. She can’t think about her. It’s wrong. It’s wrong.

It’s wrong.

“I don’t… feel that way anymore,” Dani says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know it was wrong. I know it wasn’t real love.”

Mrs. Keating’s eyes gleam with approval, as if she’s won some silent battle. “That’s right, Danielle. You’re starting to understand. Love, true love, is a gift from God, and it’s meant to be between a man and a woman. Anything else is a distortion, a lie from the devil.”

Dani bites the inside of her cheek, the taste of blood sharp on her tongue. She’s heard this speech so many times that she can recite it in her sleep, and each time, it chips away at her a little more, hollowing her out from the inside. She wants to believe that maybe it’s a lie—that what she felt (feels?) with Paige is real—but after weeks of being told otherwise, it’s getting harder and harder to hold on to that belief.

“And how do you feel about your future now, Danielle?” Mrs. Keating asks, her tone almost gentle, as if she’s speaking to a child in need of guidance. “Do you feel ready to live a life that honors God?”

Dani’s hands tighten in her lap. She feels the weight of the cross around her neck, its presence suffocating. She’s worn it every day since she received it from her father years ago. But ever since she’s gotten here, it’s become a constant reminder of the expectations placed upon her, of the person she’s supposed to be.

“I want to do what’s right,” Dani replies, her voice steady even as her heart stutters. “I want to live the way God wants me to live.”

Mrs. Keating leans forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she can sense the apprehension buried beneath Dani’s words. “And you’re willing to renounce those past feelings? Those sinful urges?”

Dani’s throat tightens, but, nevertheless, she nods. “Yes.”

“Good.” Mrs. Keating’s smile widens. “You’ve made remarkable progress, Danielle. You’ve come a long way from the confused girl who arrived here, and I’m proud of you for embracing the truth.”

Dani doesn’t feel proud. She just feels empty.

The silence in the room grows heavy, oppressive, as Mrs. Keating studies her, as if trying to gauge the depth of Dani’s conviction. After a moment, she rises from her chair and walks around the desk, coming to stand in front of Dani. She reached down, her cold fingers brushing against Dani’s skin as she presses her hand to the small silver cross hanging from Dani’s neck.

The touch makes Dani flinch, but she doesn’t move. She can’t.

Mrs. Keating’s fingers linger there for a moment, her grip firm, almost possessive. “God will forgive you for your sins,” she says softly, her voice filled with the kind of certainty that Dani can never muster. “He is a merciful God, and He wants nothing more than for you to be redeemed in His eyes.”

Dani’s pulse races beneath the surface of her skin. She wants to believe that. She wants to believe that all of this—everything she’s gone through—will lead to forgiveness, to peace. But deep down, something in her resists. Something in her whispers that maybe God won’t forgive her. Maybe she isn’t worthy of it. Maybe there’s no redemption for someone like her.

She swallows hard, her eyes stinging with the tears she refuses to shed.

Mrs. Keating releases her hold on the necklace, her hand falling back to her side. She smiles, the gesture cold and calculating, as if she’s just won a battle Dani hadn’t realized she was fighting.

“You’re almost there, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating tells her, voice smooth and placating. “You’re so close to being saved.”

Dani doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t think she trusts herself to speak.

Because in that moment, all she can think about is Paige. Paige’s face, Paige’s laugh, Paige’s love. She can feel it slipping away, the memory of it growing dimmer with every passing day. And the worst part is, she isn’t sure if she wants to hold onto it anymore. Bitterly, she doesn’t know what the point would be. What would be the point at all, if this is who she’s supposed to be now?

“Remember, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating says firmly, brows scrunched slightly, “God’s love is stronger than anything. Stronger than sin. Stronger than temptation.”

Dani nods mechanically, her mind a haze of conflicting thoughts and emotions. She’s heard this so many times, and every time, it feels like another piece of her soul is being chipped away.

But maybe that’s for the best.

AUGUST 2019

Dani’s home.

That simple fact should bring her comfort, but as she stands in the middle of her bedroom, staring at the familiar walls and the neatly made bed, nothing feels the same. The space seems smaller, suffocating almost, and everything inside her feels hollow. It doesn’t really feel like home anymore.

She doesn’t know what feels like home.

She doesn’t think she has one.

It’s strange—coming back from camp was supposed to be a relief, a return to normalcy, but nothing about this feels normal. Dani expected some kind of closure, maybe even a sense of peace after everything she’s been through, but all she can do is feel a dull, heavy weight pressing down on her chest, right under her necklace. She feels like she doesn’t even belong here anymore. And it’s not just her house; it’s her whole life.

Dani doesn’t hang out with Thaliah or Jalen anymore either. They try to reach out when she gets back—text messages, phone calls, even a couple visits—but she pushes them away. It’s not like she really wants to—it’s just easier. Easier to stay locked inside herself, easier to avoid the questions she knows they’ll ask. Easier to pretend that things can just… move on.

Because they can’t. Not after everything. Not after her.

It’s easier not to think about Paige this way. Paige is still gone, away on basketball things for the summer, and with her absence, Dani’s managed to build up walls—tall, thick ones that keep the memories at bay. She has to. Thinking about Paige, about what they shared, about how it all fell apart without the blonde even knowing, is too much. So, she doesn’t think about it. She can’t.

Her dad doesn’t bring it up either. Not directly, at least. They’ve never spoken about what happened—about the reason Dani was sent away in the first place. Instead, he acts like it never occurred, like she was just at a normal summer camp, learning life lessons, finding her footing. That suits Dani fine. The last thing she wants is to talk about her “past mistakes.”

Instead, they focus on what her father considers the right things, like Beau Hudson.

Beau is someone Dani’s known since elementary school, a boy she’s always thought is a typical jockey douchebag—the kind of guy who’ll peak in high school and will probably spend the rest of his life chasing after some sense of former glory. He’s loud, obnoxious, and has a habit of talking like he owns every room he walks into. Dani’s never liked him, never thought twice about him, except to occasionally roll her eyes when his name comes up.

But now, Beau seems to be the answer to her father’s prayers.

Apparently, Beau mentioned to his parents that he thought Dani was pretty. And apparently, her father—who happens to work with Beau’s father—thinks that’s just great. It’s perfect, actually. Perfect in the way that Dani knows her father has always envisioned for her—a respectable boy, from a respectable family, with respectable values. There’s no need to talk about her past anymore, no need to dwell on those mistakes. If she can just date Beau, everything will fall into place. She can be the daughter her father wants her to be.

So, she does it.

She begins dating Beau, and it happens so fast that she hardly has time to question it. One minute, she’s saying yes to dinner with his family, and the next, they’re officially together. It isn’t something Dani really wants, but it’s something she can tolerate. It’s easy. Beau’s world is uncomplicated, shallow in a way that’s almost comforting because it doesn’t require much from her.

She starts hanging out with his friends—people she’s never given the time of day before. Guys from the football team, girls from the cheer squad. Serena Corren, one of the cheerleaders who’s always been a bit of a bitch, turns out to be not that bad. Dani finds herself spending time with her, more than she expects. Serena’s loud and a little crass, but she isn’t mean, at least not to Dani. In fact, they get along well enough that Dani finds herself relaxing a bit around her. Serena talks about meaningless things, gossips about people at school, complains about cheer practice, and it’s a nice distraction.

Everything is a distraction at this point.

A distraction from Paige.

Paige, who’s back now.

The minute Dani opens the door and sees her standing there, everything crashes down on her. It’s like a punch to the gut. Paige looks the same and different all at once—still beautiful, still Paige, but something about her feels… distant. Or maybe it’s just Dani who’s distant. She can feel her defenses rising the moment she meets those familiar blue eyes.

“Paige,” Dani acknowledges, throat tightening.

Paige’s voice is soft, tentative. “Hey, Dan. Can we talk?”

Dani swallows hard. She shouldn’t let her in. She should shut the door, turn Paige away before it gets any harder. But she doesn’t. Instead, she steps aside, letting Paige walk into her home, into her life once again. “Sure. Come in.”

The living room is quiet, and Dani can feel the tension simmering in the air as she sits on the couch, body rigid. Paige stands a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, looking at Dani like she’s searching for something—an explanation, an apology, maybe a sign that Dani still cares.

But Dani can’t give her any of that. She can’t let herself break.

It starts with Paige asking, “What’s going on? Why didn’t you tell me you were back? Why didn’t you—”

And then the floodgates open between them. Dani tries to keep her face neutral during it, shutting down any emotion that threatens to spill out. She can’t afford to feel—if she lets herself feel anything, even for a moment, it’ll all come crashing down, everything wrong and bad spilling out. Her eyes stay cold, her voice flat, and every word that comes out of her mouth feels like poison she has to swallow herself. She tells herself she’s doing the right thing, that pushing Paige away is for her own good. That it’s for both of them. But God, it hurts.

Watching Paige’s face fall with every sharp word she throws at her is like watching someone chip away at a sculpture, little by little, until it’s unrecognizable. Dani sees the flickers of confusion, hurt, and then anger that spread across Paige’s features. She sees the way Paige’s shoulders tense, the way her eyes burn with disbelief. Paige has always been so expressive, her emotions right there on the surface, easy to read. And it kills Dani to know that she’s the cause of every negative expression that paints the blonde’s face.

The worst part is seeing the way Paige’s eyes gloss over, like she’s on the verge of tears but is too stubborn to let them fall. Paige isn’t the type to cry easily, but Dani knows her too well. She can feel Paige’s hurt even without seeing the tears. It’s palpable in the air between them, suffocating.

But Dani can’t break. She has to be strong, even though it’s the hardest thing she’s ever done. So, she says the words that’ll sever whatever hope Paige had left. She tells her that their kiss, that their confessions, were both mistakes. That she doesn’t want her, that it’s all just over. The words are like knives in her own chest, but she forces them out because she has no choice. If Paige knew the truth—about the camp, about her father’s threats, about everything—Paige would fight for her. She’d try to save Dani from it all. And Dani can’t let that happen. Everything would just get worse. It wouldn’t help anything.

Besides, whatever Paige and Dani have is wrong. It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong. Dani repeats it in her head. She fiddles with her necklace, her eyes flit to the crucifix on the wall, she thinks about how God doesn’t appreciate girls loving other girls. It’s wrong.

Nevertheless, when Paige finally leaves, when she turns her back and walks out the door, it’s like Dani’s entire world collapses in on itself. She’s built a wall around herself for weeks, convincing herself that this is what she’s needed to do. But the second the door closes behind Paige, it all comes tumbling to the ground. The numbness she’s been clinging to melts away, leaving behind raw, unbearable pain.

It’s wrong anyways, she tries to remind herself. It would’ve never worked out. God doesn’t permit it.

But that doesn’t seem to matter. Because no matter how wrong it is, it fucking hurts.

Dani presses her forehead against the door, her whole body trembling as the sobs begin to escape. She didn’t cry in front of Paige. She held it together, made sure to be strong, made sure that Paige wasn’t aware of what’s truly going on. But now, with no one watching, Dani just breaks. Her shoulders shake as the tears come hard and fast, her chest heaving as she lets it all out. The sobs are uncontrollable, wracking her body as she finally allows herself to feel everything she’s been holding back since the day she was dropped off at camp back at the beginning of June.

She cries for the years of friendship she’s just destroyed. For the love she has for Paige that she has to—and will continue to—deny. For the fact that she has to pretend not to care when every fiber of her being screams that she still does. She cries because she knows she’s just shattered Paige’s heart, and in doing so, she’s shattered her own.

Her father’s voice echoes in the back of her mind, a cruel reminder of why she’s done this. She can’t be with Paige, can’t even be her friend. Not if she wants to keep Paige safe from the consequences, not if she wants to keep them both pure in God’s eyes. Besides, if Dani even tried to slightly interact with the blonde, her father would never allow it, and Dani knows the lengths he’ll go to if he thinks Dani’s stepping out of line. The threats he made over the summer, the way he sent her to that camp to “fix” her—it isn’t something she can let Paige be part of. And it’s certainly not something she’ll let herself be subject to again.

(Besides, she has Beau. She likes Beau.) (Enough.)

But the knowledge doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make it easier to breathe through the sobs that wrack her chest. Dani feels like she’s drowning, suffocating under the weight of everything she’s just lost. Paige has been her best friend for over a decade. She’s been the one constant in Dani’s life, the person who has understood her better than anyone else. And now, Dani’s pushed her away, and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to get her back.

Eventually, the sobs slow, leaving Dani feeling hollow and empty. Her tears soak through the fabric of her tank top, and her throat is raw from crying. She doesn’t know how long she stands there, leaning against the door, but it feels like an eternity. All she can think about is Paige’s face as she left, the way her eyes had looked so broken, so betrayed.

Dani did this. She has to live with it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to the empty room, though the words are meant for Paige.

OCTOBER 2019 (PRESENT DAY)

Paige was right. Dani is a coward.

She knows she is. She thinks about it constantly. She thinks about that night, at the party, where she and Paige fought. She thinks about what Beau called her. She thinks about how she didn’t step in, how she didn’t defend Paige. She thinks about how she’s settled into a routine that feels like she’s merely a spectator in her own life. She thinks about how she hasn’t done anything to try and change it. She thinks, she thinks, she thinks.

She thinks a lot.

About certain things.

Certain people.

(Paige.)

She tries and tries to fight it, but her mind is rogue, a resistance that always has a mantra of Paige, Paige, Paige whether it’s in the front, the corner, or the back of her cerebrum.

She dates Beau. That doesn’t change. She knows who he is—not a good person. He’s arrogant, dismissive, and often cruel, but Dani finds herself in his company night after night. It’s not that she doesn’t recognize his red flags; she does. But there’s a twisted sense of comfort in being with someone who embodies the superficial, the expected. Beau is a mask she can wear, something to hide what’s beneath. What she doesn’t want people to see.

So, she dates Beau. She kisses him. They do other stuff a lot, too. He always initiates it, but she never stops it. It’s okay—not great, not terrible. It’s not exactly who she’d prefer to do that kind of thing with—but, who she would exhibits every single little thing that’s wrong with her. Every single little thing that she’s been trying to shake out of her, off of her, since she arrived at that camp. God doesn’t appreciate it. And so neither does Dani.

School has become her other distraction. A good one, too.

She retakes the ACT. When she gets her score back, she’s happy with it, a rare moment of relief and pride.

College applications weigh on her as well, and she’s certainly had the time to do them. She only applies to two school. Minnesota—her dad wants her to stay in-state, somewhere close. And, trust her, she knows how deluded it sounds, but—she applies to Connecticut, too. Don’t ask her. She doesn’t even really know why.

She focuses heavily on her Calc class, her AP Bio class, her AP Lit work. She focuses, she gets good grades, she makes her teachers and maybe even her father proud. She’s just doing her best, distracting herself. (Though it doesn’t help that, without fail, every single day Paige’s stare bores holes into Dani’s back in Lit. All she wants is to continue her distractions, to continue her streak of nearly perfect scores, but those baby blues burn into her skin from behind and it makes Dani’s heart race.)

She continues on with photography, too. She goes to the football games and some of the other sports—soccer, field hockey, etc.—and takes her photos for yearbook. It’s a good distraction until she spots Paige in the student section (this happens every Friday night), and Dani’s mood seems to simmer out.

Paige is everywhere. Fucking everywhere. School, games, Dani’s head. It doesn’t matter. She never leaves.

Dani wishes she would go and wishes she would stay all at once.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn huskies #wbb #wcbb #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #hopkins p fic #take me to church #wlw

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ammoniteblue · 2 months

Text

Not a Hero, Just an Author (p.2)

kenji sato x reader

Her latest novel a flop, Y/N is starting to worry she wasn’t meant to be an author. She’s 24, lives alone and most of her college friends are either married or in more traditional jobs. she feels like she’s being left behind. That is until a charming baseball player finds his way into her life and shows Y/N that it takes more than talent to be a star.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

At first the baseball card was left on your bedside table. But as you realised that night, after getting back from Mr. Ozami’s Ramen Shop, you couldn’t sleep with it so close to you. If you opened an eye you’d see it, sitting there atop the table. Then all thoughts of sleep evaded you. It was almost impossible not replay the events of the night over and over in you mind.

Kenji. His easy grin. The way his jacket hung just right off his shoulders.

so like any coward, you hid it. Pushed into a drawer crammed full of notebooks and stray pieces of paper. You left it there in your office, hidden within your desk and finally managed to sleep.

For two days the card sat in that drawer, hidden, out of sight out of mind.

Why an ordinary schmuck like you wasn’t jumping at the chance to call a legendary athlete like Kenji Sato you would never know. A million girls would kill to have his number and yet you….you couldn’t even bare to look at it.

But why ?

For those two days you did nothing but watch old reruns of his games. Ones of him in America, playing for the LA Dodgers, all dressed up in white and blue. He wore that same easy going smirk when he played too. Like he knew no matter what that he’d win.

Something in your keened for that kind of confidence. Most people would be jealous of Kenji for his wealth, his fame….his good looks. Not you. what you wanted was his confidence. how, when millions of people were watching him, did he look so carefree ?

Kenji was right. Maybe he’d just make a baseball fan out of you yet. When watching his reruns got boring you changed to interviews. They were always solo, usually him and some pretty female reporter.

A nasty green feeling curled up in your stomach as you watched the way he chuckled and smiled, tilting his head in an easy but flirty manner.

Arrogant asshole. Stupidly hot arrogant asshole.

On the second night your older sister called. she never rang your phone, always the landline. nobody ever used it and most of the time you forgot it was there until Ami rang for your weekly catch up.

She didn’t live far, only thirty minutes on the metro, but with her full time job as a reporter and status as a single mum she was usually busy. Of course you went over to help whenever you could, but lately you’d been avoiding her and therefore Chiho too.

You couldn’t admit to your powerhouse big sister, who had it all, that your book had been a flop. that you and Sana were desperately trying to secure a movie or tv show deal in hopes of recuperating your losses.

Yes a show or movie would put you on the map, give you the status of a serious author, but it would also mean some hollywood exec tearing your baby apart and turning it into some dark, sexy CW series.

Your heartwarming story of a boy’s struggles through adulthood, as he comes to terms with his new powers and what they mean, made into the next Riverdale. You’d rather die.

Oh the shame.

“Y/N you need to call back mum, she’s worried about you.” Immediately Ami is hounding you over the phone.

with a sigh you respond, “yes Ami, it’s nice to hear from you too.”

“we’re just worried about you. lately you’ve been so distant. we miss you. Chiho misses you, she keeps asking where her auntie is.” Her words cut straight to your heart.

A pang of guilt hits your stomach as you imagine Chiho’s sad wide eyes asking where you are. That was a dirty move on Ami’s side.

“Things are just…” you scramble for an excuse, “busy. yeah i’ve got some book stuff and…..and there’s this guy.”

wait what ? why the fuck did you say that ?

“a guy ?” your sister asked.

oh shit well no going back now.

“um yeah a guy. he’s nice ?” you almost sounded questioning.

there was a pause before Ami made a sound of excitement.

“That’s amazing Y/N ! i’m so happy for you. you’ve got to bring him over, mum would love to meet him. we all would.”

you knew that was code for “as your big sis i need to vet this guy and make sure he’s good enough for you”.

two minutes later and you found yourself promising to bring this mystery guy over soon along with returning your mums anxious calls.

“we love you Y/N, please don’t forget that.”

After she hung up you sat there for a minute. It was dark out and if not for the light from the TV the living room would’ve been submerged in complete darkness. Another interview was playing, an old one. Kenji couldn’t have been older than 20. A college graduate recruited to play baseball full time. He looked so happy, the kind of energy only young people have. when they’re still full of hope, before the world has smashed it into pieces.

once upon a time you looked like that. maybe in those weeks just after your first book deal. fresh out of university and the promise of bright career in writing.

As you watched him, you replayed the conversation with your sister over in your head. she’d sounded so worried. they both did, her and mum. something had to change. you needed to do something, anything to fix this funk you’d fallen into.

maybe that’s why you walked out of the living room and into your study.

The desk drawer slid open easily and inside the baseball card gleamed up at you. You reached in, picked it up and then grabbed your phone from your back pocket.

Ten digits later, your phone rang and after several seconds of intense silence there was a voice.

“Hey Kenji speaking.” It was him, really him. “umm hello ? if this is that guy from the gossip magazine then please f-“

“It’s the girl from the ramen shop, Mr. Ozami’s.” You quickly interrupt.

Kenji goes silent, the threat dying on his tongue.

“Oh.” Is all he says.

“Yeah.” you mumble in response.

Theres another awkward silence.

“So…” He starts

“So…” You repeat.

For an international heartthrob, Kenji Sato is surprinsgly not that smooth. Just like you he’s unsure of what to say, and for the first time the baseball icon seems a little human to you. it’s what gives you the confidence to speak first.

“I watched some of your games.” You try, unable to fight the heat rushing to your cheeks.

was that weird ? was admitting you’d watched him play weird ?

There’s a laugh over the phone that puts all your worries to rest.

“Really ? i thought you said you didn’t like baseball ?” He asks, amused.

“Oh i still don’t, but i wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” You respond boldly, almost flirty.

“And ?” He prompts.

from over the phone you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“And i thought you were pretty good.” You can’t help the smile that pulls at your mouth as he makes an unbecoming noise.

“pretty good ? i think you mean the best babe.”

oh. OH.

Suddenly the pyjamas you’re wearing felt too tight, too hot. you slipped off the couch and padded over to a window, opening it to let in a fresh night breeze.

“I-I mean,” you try to school your voice, “sure you’re good but the best ? that might be a stretch.”

Oh good lord why did you say that ? Why was your go to defence insults ?

“Well if you need some proof why don’t you come to a game ?” His proposition catches you completely off guard.

“a game ?” you’d never been to a baseball game.

how much were the tickets ? You weren’t exactly very liquid right now. yes the advance on your latest book had been quite a lot but with it not hitting its sale targets you’d had to make a few setbacks. no excessive shopping, no eating out - Mr. Ozami’s was an exception - no travelling. A baseball game sounded expensive. could you afford the tickets ?

“Yeah, i’ll send you a ticket,” and then cockily adds, “don’t worry i’ll make sure you have a good view.”

You breath out a small laugh. It was a tempting offer. A free ticket, the chance to experience something new and watch cute men run around a field in tight pants. What was not to like. Maybe this was what you needed to get you out of that funk.

“Okay,” you found yourself responding, “that would be nice. thank you.”

there’s a chuckle over the phone and like that you figure the call is coming to an end until Kenji adds:

“But on one condition.”

So close.

“What’s that ?” You try to sound normal.

“You let me take you out.”

three days later

The new Tokyo Stadium was a magnificent piece of architecture. it had only opened a few months ago but you’d yet to see it. with a book tour and signings and fan events you hadn’t had the time to walk around the city like you used to.

Dressed up in your nicest pair of jeans and a Giants jersey you’d bought just for this game, you joined the back of one of the ticket booth queues.

Kenji had sent you an E-ticket right after your call. since then whenever you went onto your phone you’d checked to see if it was still there. the sight of it was a confirmation that this was real. the Kenji Sato had not only given you his number, invited you to a game but had asked you out on a date. you turning up to this was basically confirmation that yes you wanted to go.

A date with Kenji Sato.

What was happening to your life.

Since that night you’d itched to call your sister, to tell her what was going on. But you couldn’t. Ami was so practical, she followed her head over her heart. if she found out she would tell you to drop it. that Kenji Sato was a known flirt who was scared of commitment and would leave you high and dry. He wasn’t the dating type. Not at least according to the hundreds of magazines and articles you’d spent the last few days reading.

it was all there. his long, slightly hazardous, dating history. models and musicians. beautiful women with no body fat and immaculate skin. the kinds of girls that you see online or in magazines. you couldn’t be further from them.

What on earth did Kenji Sato see in you ? A small time author with a minor online following and, according to one very cruel article in the Tokyo Post, a dying career.

Ami would tell you to quit while you’re ahead, before you’ve gone on a date with this guy and inevitably let him charm you into submission.

But Ami wasn’t here and you were in too deep now.

The lady at the ticket booth scanned your ticket and then you were in. it was unlike anything you’d ever seen. The stadium rippled with noise. hundreds of thousands of fans filled it, filing into seats, calling out for hot dogs and beers from the uriko girls.

like you many people wore Giants jerseys. Children and women and men. some had orange face paint strewn across their cheeks.

suddenly you felt less self conscious about the jersey you were wearing. nobody would glance at you and think you’d never been to a game before let alone not know a thing about the sport or rules.

it took you a while to find your seat. you walked further and further into the stadium, eyes scanning the rows for the letter A. it wasn’t till you were right at the front that you found it. to your surprise, your seat was just above the dugout, giving you a clear view of the home plate.

not only had Kenji Sato bought you a ticket, he’d bought you maybe one of the best seats in the whole place.

There was a buzz in your back pocket. you reached for your phone.

enjoy the show

Kenji.

As you stated at the message, biting back a grin, a sudden chorus of cheers shook the stadium. around you people had jumped to their feet, hoisting posters and foam fingers high into the air. the people next to you, a little girl and her mum, were jumping up and down in excitement. the little girl held a poster in her hands and with one quick glance you realised it was of Kenji.

You turned to look at the field and suddenly it made sense. There waltzing up to the home plate was the man himself.

Kenji Sato.

His white jersey gleamed in the midday sun. the number seven printed on the back in big block lettering. a baseball bat hung almost carelessly in his left hand. you were sure that under that helmet he was wearing the most obnoxious grin possible.

The Kenji Sato show was live.

As he strolled up to the home plate, he turned to wave at the crowds. what a showboater. it worked though. another round of cheers rippled through the crowds, so loud it almost made you wince. the little girl was nearly crying with excitement next to you.

You cheered along too, a little unsure of yourself. it wasn’t like you’d ever done this before. Then to your absolute horror, Kenji Sato glanced across the crowd until he locked eyes with you.

Had he been looking for you ?

He must have, because as soon as he saw you his grin grew even bigger. a look of absolute smugness. He gave you a once over, something unmistakable flashing across his face as he saw the jersey you were wearing. it had been a coincidence, you picking out the number seven jersey. Until now you hadn’t realised it was his jersey. did he think you’d done it on purpose ?

Oh my god he did.

There was a self assured smirk on his face as he gave you one last look before turning to batter up. An almost unnatural silence fell over the stadium. everyone waited with baited breath, about to witness for the first time Kenji Sato batting in the Japanese League.

The pitcher swung his arm back and the ball sailed through the air.

To your surprise and everybody else’s Kenji missed. The ball went square into the catcher’s mitt. You’d watched enough of his games to know Kenji rarely missed a ball. maybe it was nerves ? His first game on a new team, in a new country. anyone would be nervous. But then he missed the second time and from your seat you could catch the way his hand flew to his shoulder, as if in pain.

Then the catcher said something, what exactly you couldn’t hear. But judging by Kenji’s reaction it wasn’t anything good. You watched with wide eyes as the batter levelled up to the catcher, his bat almost held like a weapon. The pair were almost chest to chest until the umpire stepped in. there was a final heated exchange before Kenji returned to bat. Then to everyone’s surprise he swapped sides, changing to his right hand to bat.

A series of quiet murmurs, sceptical and surpised words, rippled through the crowds. Did this not happen often ? You weren’t entirely sure what was going on. But judging by the confused looks around you Kenji was about to do something unprecedented in baseball.

All you could do was watch as the pitcher made his final throw. the ball flew through the air. the silence had never been thicker, and then with a speed so intense you nearly missed it, Kenji swung the bat back. there was contact. an almost cracking sound and the ball was sent soaring into the opposite direction.

the crowd roared with approval. the noise shook the stadium and to your surprise you found yourself up on your feet cheering along with them.

“Go Kenji !” You cried, almost jumping up and down as he ran each base.

A victorious grin had broken out on his face, and as he returned to home base he glanced up at you. Suddenly you felt self conscious stood there, hands in the air your cheeks flushed. But then he winked at you and something electric and light and fluttering soared through your chest.

He was incredible.

And then the Kaiju appeared.

is she the queen of cliffhangers or what ?? stay tuned for part three !! also if people are confused about why the reader seems to contradict herself a lot it’s meant to show how she’s an unreliable narrator, and like can’t see that she’s doing better than she thinks.

#ken sato x reader #ken sato #kenji sato x reader #kenji x reader #kenji sato #ultraman rising #ultraman

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genderlessdude92 · 3 months

Text

STICKS AND STONES

PAIRING: Alastor x Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is shaken when Vox mocks her on live television with rude comments and even exposing her secret relationship with Alastor, too. Struggling with self-doubt, she feels inadequate in Hell's power-driven society. Alastor comforts her, emphasizing her unique qualities and their deep connection, helping her find solace despite the lingering hurt from Vox's comments.

WARNINGS: Established Relationship, Usage of Y/n, Usage of She/her pronouns, Major ANGST to major FLUFF in the end, Emotional Distress, Verbal Abuse, Hell and Demons (obv), Romantic Relationshiop kind of i guess idk, Mental Health, aaaand lmk if i missed anything!! ^^

NOTICE: please don’t copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But…thanks for liking my work !! >.<

Requests are open, Support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

The distant sound of a crackling fireplace filled the room, the occasional pop of a burning ember piercing the quiet. A soft, velvety couch sat in the corner of the hotel lobby, slightly rumpled from recent use, a testament to the comfort it had provided. Outside the window, the neon lights of Hell flickered in a dance of eternal night. Y/N, a fellow demon helping out the very hotel alongside her s/o, Alastor, known for her ‘bravery’ to date him, sat curled up in a blanket, her eyes fixated on the flickering screen of the television mounted atop the fireplace. It was a rare moment of solitude in the bustling halls of the Hazbin Hotel.

Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she watched the broadcast, Vox’s smug grin spreading across the screen. He was speaking about Alastor, her love, her rock, her everything. Of course, It didn’t bother her as much as before since he likes to bitch about him every once in a while. But then, in a sudden, cruel twist, he said it—

Her name…?

How could he even know her name in the first place—she isn’t an overlord or an overly known-demon. Alastor and her even tried to keep their relationship a secret for safety over the years.

Y/N’s heart sank as she heard the words that felt like a thousand knives. Vox’s voice grew louder, his smugness palpable through the screen. “And what about Alastor’s girlfriend, the one he’s been hiding from us all this time? Tell me, dear audience, what’s she got that makes her so special? A heart of gold? Maybe a brain of silver? Maybe even some spooky little radio powers?” His audience, a sea of demons, roared with laughter. Y/N’s cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment, her eyes glistening with tears she was desperately trying to hold back.

Her thoughts raced as she replayed the words in her mind. Useless. Insignificant. The words stung like acid on her soul. She knew she wasn’t a high-ranking demon, didn’t have flashy powers or a grand title, but she had always believed that she had something to offer. That Alastor saw something in her that others didn’t. Now, as the room swirled around her, she couldn’t help but doubt herself in those beliefs.

The door to the lobby creaked open, the sound breaking the silence like a gunshot. She didn’t look up, her eyes glued to the TV, unable to tear herself away from the mockery. But she recognized the footsteps approaching, the ominous thuds of Alastor’s steps against the carpet. His shadow fell over her, but she remained curled into herself. She remained silently panicking about Vox’s comments. She remained letting her breaths go wild with their pace.

Alastor paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room before landing on her. He noticed the way she clutched the blanket, the way her eyes were red, and the TV’s volume turned up a bit too high. He sighed, his tail flicking in annoyance at the screen, and walked over to her. He knew she didn’t like confrontation, but he also knew she had the strength to face the harshness of Hell itself, and hell isn’t fair, anyways.

"Y/N," he said softly, his deep voice cutting through the cacophony of the TV. She didn’t look up at first, but when he gently placed his hand on her shoulder, she turned to face him, the seamless-before tears spilling over her cheeks. He sat down beside her, his expression a mix of concern and arrogance just from Vox being on the TV.

And just the TV being on in general.

"Hey," Alastor began, his hand moving to gently wipe away the tears with his thumb. His touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the hardened exterior he presented to the world. "What's going on?"

Y/N took a shaky breath, her voice quivering as she spoke. "It's Vox. He said..." She couldn't bring herself to repeat the words, the pain still fresh.

Alastor's eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking to the TV before returning to her. "What did that prick say?" His voice was calm, but the anger simmering beneath was unmistakable. Nonetheless, not forgetting about his dear S/o, he shifted the way he was sitting so he could face her.

Y/N took a deep, shuddering breath and recounted Vox's cruel words, each syllable like a dagger twisting in her chest. Alastor listened, his expression growing stormier with every sentence. He could feel the heat of his own anger rising, but he kept it in check, focusing on her instead.

When she finished, the tears subsiding just a little bit from letting it out, he pulled her into a tight embrace, his powerful arms enveloping her trembling form. "You know I don't give a damn about what that glorified karaoke machine thinks," he murmured against her hair, his voice a soothing rumble, “And you shouldn’t either. He’s a clout chaser, and you know that.”

Y/N nodded, trying to hold onto his words like a lifeline in a stormy sea of doubt. But the damage was done. She couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy that clung to her like a second skin. She pulled away slightly, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "But he's right, Alastor. I'm not like you, or any of the other high-ranked demons here. I don't have flashy powers or a title that makes people fear me. What do I even contribute to this place?"

Alastor's expression softened, although his grip on her tightened slightly. "You contribute more than you think, my love," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "You have a heart, a soul that hasn't been corrupted by the endless cycle of damnation. That's more than most demons here can say."

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching hers. "And as for your powers, they're not about flash or fear. They're about comfort, about healing. You have the ability to soothe the most tormented spirits, to ease the pain of those who are lost. That's something no one else here can do. You're special, Y/N. Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise."

The TV continued to blare in the background, Vox's voice now just a dull buzz as Alastor leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You're not useless," he whispered fiercely, his eyes burning with a passion that surprised even her. "You're my other half, and this hotel, this whole godforsaken plane of existence, would be a much darker place without you."

Her heart swelled at his words, the warmth of his love wrapping around her like a blanket. But she couldn't shake the doubt that had taken root. She tried to smile, but it came out wobbly. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the TV. "But I just don't feel like I deserve all this praise."

Alastor's eyes searched hers, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "You don't have to feel like you deserve it," he said, his voice firm. "You just have to accept it. And more importantly, believe it." He paused, his gaze intense. "Because I do. And if that's not enough for you, then I don't know what is."

Y/N sniffled, her eyes filling with fresh tears. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking. "I just don't want to hold you back."

Alastor sighed, frustration momentarily flashing in his eyes. "That's not what this is about," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "I don't need a high-ranking demon by my side to feel complete. I need you, just as you are." He didn't want an apology; he wanted her to see herself the way he saw her.

Standing up, he offered her his hand. "Come on," he said, his voice softer now. "Let's get you to bed."

Her hand slipped into his, and she allowed him to pull her to her feet. His room was a sanctuary, a place where she felt safe and loved despite the chaos of Hell outside. She followed him down the hallway, the TV's noise fading behind them.

Once inside, Alastor helped her into bed, his movements careful and considerate. He knew she was fragile in that moment, and he didn't want to add to her pain of how overwhelmed she was.

After putting on some fresh night wear and doing some hair-care, (please be cannon), he sat beside her, stroking her hair gently as she curled into his side, her head resting on his broad chest. His heart beat a steady rhythm, a comforting metronome in the quiet of the night.

For a while, they just sat there, the TV forgotten, the words of Vox nothing but echoes in the back of their minds. Alastor’s touch was a balm to her soul, and she felt her breathing slow down, the tightness in her chest loosening. She listened to the steady thrum of his heart, feeling the warmth of his body seep into hers.

He leaned down and whispered into her ear, his voice a gentle lullaby that chased the shadows of doubt away. "You're perfect, just as you are," he said, his breath warm against her skin. "You don't need to be anyone else. I fell for you, all of you, not some ideal or some position."

He kissed her forehead softly, a gesture that spoke volumes more than any grandiose declaration. "Now, close your eyes," he murmured. "Let's get some rest."

Y/N nodded, feeling the weight of his words sink in. She closed her eyes, allowing the comfort of his presence to wash over her. His hand remained in her hair, the strokes growing slower as she drifted towards sleep.

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

END NOTES: I write this in 20 minutes at 2:00 am because i felt bad that i haven’t posted a fanfic of Alastor in over a month… 2 months. I’m sorry. HOPE YOU LIKED IT???!!!!! :D

-Genderlessdude92

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

MASTERLIST

Me after seeing that you didn’t…l-leave a like a-and didnt repost if you think it was just that good and d-didn’t share any c-comments about my f-f-f-f-fanfic…? —>

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you

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icanseethefuture333 · 10 months

Text

Celestial alignment: Pick a pattern in the sky

Messages to realign you with your soul path

Pile 1:

Shufflemancy -

Replay by Lady Gaga

JMK by Sango ft. Xavier Omar

Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine

Ten of Wands, Eight of Cups, The Magician, The World, & Three of Cups

There is a call for you to let go of thoughts that are holding you back. There is something about repetition here that is preventing you from progressing into the next chapter of your life. You could be taking on the burdens of other people as a way to help them. Your guides are urging you to please stop. You are constantly making sacrifices for others when they aren't doing this for you. Your lesson right now is to focus on making yourself the top priority. You are always putting yourself on the back burner. Some people here take care of their family members or work in the medical field. It's understandable to be worried and to care for your loved ones or other people, but who's be concerned about you? Who is making sure that you are alright or have what you need? If nobody is there for you, then you have to be there for yourself. Start making goals or a list of things you wish to accomplish. You need to realize you are worthy and deserving of what you desire, start dreaming again, pile 1. The universe is waiting and ready for your call and demand. Once you have faith in yourself, the universe will be ready to make your dreams come true. A journey of peace, abundance, and celebrations will be coming your way soon.

Summary:

Change your thoughts & way of thinking.

Practice mindfulness & work on releasing limiting beliefs.

Learn how to include self care in your daily routine

Set boundaries

Think about what your goals or dream are

Make a list or a vision board

Research information on manifestation or spirituality that aligns with your beliefs

Pile 2:

Shufflemancy -

Bruises by Kelela

Brain by Mariah the Scientist

Omega by SAAY

Seven of Wands, King of Wands, Wheel of Fortune, The Aeon (Judgement), & Nine of Pentacles

This pile gave me goosebumps when shuffling - You have a very intense aura and strong presence, pile 2! Something about having to "fight" or the "brain" being significant. I'm reminded of this wounded emoji: 🤕. You could suffer from past trauma or have a mental disorder. I had to rewrite for this pile because it didn't save and I felt so frustrated having to write for this pile again, but it made me realize that this is possibly how you feel in life. You are constantly having to work with difficult circumstances without seeing any progress of the outcome. There were a lot of struggles that you had overcome and I am reminded of movie The Truman Show. His entire life was just programmed for him and he was forced to live a life he didn't want for the entertainment of others just so they could have a TV Show to watch. So I feel like people found joy in your misfortune and suffering, which I am terribly sorry for. The thing is though that was in the past and you don't have to deal with these people anymore. You don't have to pretend to be this character that obviously doesn't resonate with you. You can create an entirely new life, new self concept, new everything for yourself. Think of who you want to be as an individual, not what other people have labeled you as or want you to be. You have to start realizing that you are free to do as you please. Life can be like a simulation and we could all be considered avatars, but we don't realize is that we are able to customize our reality in anyway we wish. You have the inner strength and passion but you are just stuck in this survival mode that is not serving you anymore. It is time for you to move on and your spirit guides are being stern with me right now but they're saying "take this shit seriously". If you have a dream or goal you know you wanna do, take action and stop complaining. Stop with the excuses, the self pity, and the martyr complex. Once you start asking the universe for help is when you can start to achieve your dreams. "It's like clockwork". I am seeing that you feel that you're running out of time in life to accomplish your goals but I am reminded of Maddy from Euphoria when she said "Don't worry, this is only just the beginning". Your "shift" or soul purpose has only just begun and time is ticking for real now. I am getting a vision of someone holding a bright lantern in a dark cave and they are like making a come hither motion with their hands. So I believe this is the universe and your guides saying if you need guidance and you are unsure what to do or where to go or how to even begin the project you wish to work on - Ask them. Once you start asking the universe for help shit is going to change in your life dramatically because your purpose is very significant and it is going to be for the better of society but you have to stop being in your ego and acting stubborn because it is not helping you or anyone else for that matter. I'm not saying you have to be some sort of holy messiah or the rebirth of Jesus Christ himself, but you are going to be someone who will make a difference in this world. As you embark on this journey, it is crucial that you pay attention to the signs the universe or spirit gives you. It is okay if you make mistakes but you have to be careful and aware of people or vices that will sabotage you in the end. So listen to your intuition and notice those gut feelings. I feel like people will be giving you your flowers in the future, that could mean you will be someone who has a certain level of status, or this means people will show appreciation or gratitude for your benevolence and charity. You have this gift or tool that the universe has blessed you with and you have to utilize it for the good will of others.

This is a powerful message I channeled from spirit: "Others who have begun early are merely the matches that were chosen out of indulgence, for candles & waxes, the faster they burn, the quicker their ashes will fall. The last one to be picked, is the match that is the resource for those in need of hope and warmth when faced with the darkness."

Summary:

Use your intuition

Release the version of yourself that is no longer serving you

Embrace change & endings

The end of a chapter means a new beginning

Rely on your inner strength & wisdom

Ask for guidance

Focus on what it is meant for you

"All that glitters isn't gold"

Pile 3:

Shufflemancy -

Lemon by N.E.R.D ft. Rihanna

Starface* by Jean Dawson

Screen Time by Epik High ft. HOSHI

The Tower, Four of Pentacles (reversed), Three of Wands, The Sun, & Four of Wands

The pile's energy instantly chirped me up and made so happy! Its interesting how the piles are always so unique in their own way. You could have been or are currently in denial with your circumstances. It reminds me of Hey Ya! by Outkast. Go take a look at that music video or listen to the song if you're unfamiliar with it. It's a fun happy song, but the meaning of the lyrics are actually quite depressing. You could have this mindset of: "Y'all don't wanna hear me you just wanna dance!". You could be someone who is pessimistic and a downer, always wanting to look at things from a more "realistic" perspective. Although, your spirit guides are asking you to actually change this way of thinking. I actually see that you have a really bright and energizing aura! You could be really funny, pile 3! Your purpose could align with having a good sense of humor or being a source of hope and optimism for others. You could be interested in working in the entertainment field. Once you get past this, you will realize how much fun life can actually be! Your past challenges could also be viewed from a more positive standpoint. For example, the situation might have been unfortunate, but did you learn anything valuable? Or was there any positive outcomes because of that said situation. Reflect on your life experiences and lessons to see where the universe actually might have helped you dodge a bullet or blessed you with protection or love. You could also attract new people into your life who will make you feel a sense of joy and gratitude. This pile just reminds me of a fun summer day, where people eat watermelon or have fun at the pool. Another song I'm channeling is Summertime by DJ Jazzy Jeff & Will Smith. You will be celebrating and having a good time with your loved ones in the future soon. I believe honestly your path for now is to focus on happiness and sharing love and light with others!

Summary:

Have fun!

Make jokes that uplift people's energy

Focus on the good vs dwelling in negativity

Try to make someone laugh or smile!

Make plans for the summer

Hang out with your friends or spend time with family

Your past struggles are why you're still here. You overcame a great deal and should be proud of yourself!

#pac #pick a card #pick a pile #astrology #astro observations #astrology observations #spirituality #tarot #tarot cards #tarot deck #tarot reading #oracle #oracle cards

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writingsfromhome · 10 months

Text

If you Love Something

A/N: this has been an idea sitting in my drafts for a while. You and Harry had a brief but intense relationship as teenagers, were forced to make a serious decision then, and it’s aftereffects have lingered for the rest of your lives. It deals with some heavier topics so read with caution (alcoholism, depression, unwanted pregnancy etc). I’d describe it as sad but hopeful.

Part 2

—————————————

Age 17.

It started in secret. We’d found each other on the roof of a house party. Truth be told, I saw him sneak out of the window where people were crowded around the TV watching some controversial music video I hadn’t heard about. And I’d followed.

I knew who Harry was. Had him in English, Maths, and Biology last year. He was well spoken, thoughtful, and silly. I never spoke to him once though. Only admired him from afar.

Tonight I had my first drink and then another. I was feeling buzzed and despite being painfully shy for most of the time I’d known everyone here, I was suddenly gripped by the realization that we were approaching the last year we would all be together. Why had I waited this long to pursue someone I thought was cute?

I snuck out after him, when my friends weren’t looking. I even tilted the window more closed than usual so no one would suspect anything; I had the attic room at home so I knew how to maneuver the angled roof to get comfortable.

“You need any help?” Harry’s voice is clear in the silence.

“I’m alright.” I stand up to peer at him. He’s climbed near the top.

“Sure? You don’t seem steady.”

“Oh I’m steady,” I prove it to him by climbing up to where he was. “See?”

“I’m mistaken. My bad.” He holds out a hand to help me sit beside him and the night sky flashes brighter for an instant when I grasp his hand. My stomach is in knots.

“Harry. Styles.” I don’t know why I say his full name but I was nervous.

He repeats my full name back to me. I don’t know why I’m surprised he knows it. It’s not like we went to a big school.

“What brings you out here?”

I try to be bold about it, “You?”

“Party was getting too much.” He says. I stare at him in confusion while he complains about something his friends had gotten up to.

I replay my answer and realized it sounded like I’d skipped answering his question and asked the question back. Bugger.

“You know my name.” I interrupt him, forgetting he was telling me a story. Awkward.

“Yeah? Of course I do.”

“We’ve never talked.”

“We talked. Once in Maths. We had to grade each other’s answers.”

Oh yeah. I burn when I remember the 4/10 he’d given me with a smiley face saying that maths was masochistic.

“Barely.”

“I know you though,” he says with a softness that makes my heart stutter.

“Do you?” I look to him, resting my chin on my shoulder. He gazes down at me and I swear I could taste the colours around us.

His eyes draw me deeper as he inches closer. Was he going to kiss me? Oh my god.

I look back out to the roof and he jerks away. Omg.

“I do.”

“Oh,” I don’t know what to do after that awkward moment.

“I know you’re really quiet and shy but your smile is so loud you can see it from across the room.” He says and my breath catches as he continues. “You’re yourself with your friends, you really like Harry Potter and field hockey. You would kill Mal Adams if you could get away with it and you hate Maths just as much as you love art. You’re dating Oli Graves but your smile is only ever shining half as bright when you’re around him. Can I go on?”

I stop breathing completely halfway through his declaration of knowing me. All this time I had my eye on him, I didn’t know he was watching me too.

“I didn’t ask you for your opinion on my relationship.”

“You didn’t. I didn’t give you one either.”

I glare at him. He was right. He smiles knowing he was. I’m mad that I’m not mad at him. That he was right.

“What are you doing with a guy like that?”

Oli and I had been dating for 7 months now. He was loud and fun in a way I wish I could be. That’s why I liked him so much. That’s why I was at a party like this to begin with.

“He’s a good guy.”

“That’s all?” He asks. I look over but he’s looking up at the sky. I follow his gaze and get lost in the great expanse of nighttime.

“I think you deserve someone who sees you. Don’t you?”

“Did Ally see you?” I ask with a hint of aggression I didn’t mean to have.

“Ally and I broke up during Easter. So there’s your answer.” He’s unbothered.

“Well what do you want?” I ask.

“Right now? Or in life?”

I shrug. “Both?”

“I want to explore the world and meet all kinds of people. I wanna make the world a better place by being in it. It’s cheesy as shit so if you ever said I said this I’ll deny it and you’ll look like-“

“My lips are sealed.” I turn his way to promise him that. It makes me laugh at how serious he looks saying it all and when I do his face relaxes.

“You laugh is nice too. I forgot to mention that.”

That quiets me very quickly.

“And right now,” he continues. “I’d really like to kiss you.”

My ears ring. Did I hear him right? Could you get so drunk you hallucinate? I swear the cold air had sobered me-

“Did you hear what I said?” Harry’s moved in closer to me. Did I? I don’t know.

“What d-“

“I’d like to kiss you.”

I nod, afraid to talk and realize I’d hallucinated him saying that.

The world melts away when he kisses me. It’s tender, nothing like Oli and his jagged pushy kissing. In the nighttime air it’s warm, and soft, and easy.

“I know you,” Harry says when we part. I’d nearly climbed into his lap and I try to edge away, embarrassed, but he keeps a hand firm on my thigh.

“I know you too Harry,” I breathe. He smiles and it crinkles his luscious eyes.

I think I was falling.

***

We keep it a secret after I break up with Oli. For months, until mid-August when I invite him over for dinner after my mom insists on meeting “the boy I was all doe-eyed over”. The night with my family goes so well—Harry is the picture of a courteous gentleman that even my sister is swayed by him despite saying boys were gross. I ask him to hang out, in public, the next day. He doesn’t hesitate to say yes.

That’s what I love about Harry—yes love. He’s not pushy, he lets me go at my own pace. He respects me and sees me for everything I am and loves me anyway. I wanted to spend my whole life with him.

It was so intense and relaxed at the same time. It felt like no relationship I’d been in before. I felt different being with him, even my friends noticed.

When final year started, Harry and I were official but we didn’t flaunt it. We didn’t need to. My friends knew about us and they were happy for us, they told me I was more me. Whatever that meant.

Life was phenomenal and I was living in a dusky haze. Nothing could touch us.

Until one day in February. I was out with my sister, mum didn’t want to take her out and since I recently got my driver’s license with plenty of lessons from Harry, I was driving her to the mall. She needed Valentine’s Day cards.

“I thought you said love is stupid.” I remind her on the way.

“It is.”

“So why the hell am I driving you to buy cards for a made up holiday?”

“Because!” She crosses her arms and stares out the window. I flick her arm at a red light.

“You have a crush.”

“I do not!”

“Do too. Who is it? James? Mattie? Hamid?”

“Ew! They’re freaks.” My sister continues staring out the window.

“Why do you want to buy cards so bad!?”

“I just want them! For my friends!”

“Okay then,” I didn’t believe her. But I couldn’t bring her home crying or mum would ground me.

A lot of places have slim pickings. Wandering the aisle of Waterstones I catch sight of a family friend. She was my dad’s uni friend’s daughter, a few years older than me but by the time I got to secondary she had dropped out after getting pregnant. I remember the buzz when everyone found out.

I avoid her and find an aisle to occupy myself.

Harry and I were always careful, mum had already given me the talk and he never pressured me to do anything I didn’t. I imagine Harry as a dad. He would make a good one I think.

As one thought leads to another I go cold as I realize something. My last period was during the holidays.

I feel like I’m walking in a swarm of locusts as I walk to the edge of the aisle, scanning for my sister. Maybe I can pop into a pharmacy before she’s done. Maybe…

This was crazy. It was probably just a missed period.

But if it isn’t, another voice asks. I felt it in my gut. I had to do this.

I don’t remember getting home. I don’t remember anything about the rest of that day except two faint lines, and then two faint lines again, and a third time. I fall asleep before dinner that night and shut the world out.

***

“I know something’s wrong.” Harry’s walking me home after school. It’s Valentine’s Day and he’d been nothing but sweet. He bought me chocolates, flowers, and we planned to cook dinner together after school. I had bought him chocolates too, and had written him a heartfelt note with a bunch of photos of us weeks ago. The box was in my room, waiting for tonight. “Do you not like the flowers? Or is it dinner? We can go out somewhere instead?”

“No everything’s lovely.” I’d never heard Harry this desperate before. It gets under my skin even though part of me knows that’s not really it. But having him hover over me all week trying to figure out what was wrong was too much.

I’d spent every night this week with a hand over my belly. Thinking about it. I hadn’t told anyone. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. All I can think of was Jenny and I didn’t want that life. I couldn’t. I couldn’t be a mother.

“Please. What’s the matter.” Harry asks again, tugging at my hands but I pull them away.

“I just need some space!” I shout and he flinches. “I’m sorry Harry. I just need space right now.”

“Right now like…” he scratches his head. “I don’t get you. It’s Valentine’s Day, we’ve been talking about this day for weeks what do you mean you want space?”

“I can’t do this right now. Please.”

“Are you-are we…”

“I’m not breaking up with you.” I look at Harry with tears in my eyes, I didn’t want to cry out here. But every time I look at him I remember the reality. What’s growing inside me. I can’t take it. “I just can’t do today.”

I go inside my house. Leave him without further explanation. I feel awful, I can’t hold the tears in long enough to get to my room.

***

“Hey love?” My mum and dad knock on my door at half past 5. I lay in the dark, having cried myself dry. “We’re worried about you. Can we talk.”

“I can’t.” I say, voice stuffy.

“I thought you and that boyfriend of yours had plans,” dad says. He liked Harry but he rarely called him by his name. “Did something happen?”

“No!” I wanted them to leave me alone. “I just. I had to cancel. I’m fine.”

“Don’t sound fine to me love,” I feel the mattress dip as mum sits down. Dad strokes my hair. They whisper something I can’t hear and a pair of footsteps pad out of my room.

“Mum just leave me alone.” I try again.

“I’m not.” She pushes me further into my bed and leans down, tugging my blanket down. When I finally look at her she smiles kindly and kisses my forehead. That fills me up enough to start wailing again. “Oh love, what’s wrong?”

“Everything!” I sob into my blanket. Mom lays down beside me and I let myself be cradled like a child. God, I had a child. This was so fucked.

“Talk to me. We can figure it out together.”

I don’t know how my parents would react. They were never particularly strict, especially after what happened with Jenny I remember them always being sympathetic. We even visited her in hospital with a gift.

Mum strokes my hair and whispers that it’ll be okay. Slowly my sobbing eases into light sniffles. I had to tell her. She would know what to do. And if she hated me for it, I would just have to deal with it.

“Mum don’t be mad-“

“I won’t honey I-“

“No. Mum.” I cut her off. She moves back on the pillow so she can see my whole face, moving a strand of hair so I couldn’t hide. “Something…messed up. Happened. And…I was careful. We were always careful I don’t know what happened but I-“

I watch her face changed. Like she knew. She knew what was coming but she waits patiently as I muster up the courage to say the words that felt too real once I said them.

“Mum I’m…I’m pregnant.”

Her eyes fill with tears and she bites her lip. What was she thinking? Was she crying for me or with me? Why wasn’t she saying anything!?

“Mum-“

“C’mere.” She wraps me in her embrace again and kisses the top of my head. My body feels drained and limp. I finally told somebody. It was real. This living thing inside of me was real.

“What happened?” She asks next. And I tell her what I think happened. When. How I found out. She listens, holding my hand in hers. When I’m done and it’s poured out of me she smiles supportively. “This isn’t a bad thing okay? It’s okay. Any decision you make is up to you. I’ll talk to your dad but just know you call the shots okay? I love you.”

This is what carries me. The love.

She asks me it I told Harry yet and I tell her the truth. She urges me to tell him. I tell her I wanted to so bad but I was scared.

She leaves shortly after that, I hear her talking softly outside my room. Nobody calls me for dinner until 7, a soft knock on my door. My sister would never be so soft, I assume it’s dad so I tell him to come in. I was scared to face him.

It’s Harry instead.

“Harry!” I cover my splotchy face with my blanket, why was he here? Did mum invite him? This was soo embarrassing.

My heart pounds and Harry is silent until he takes a seat where mum had previously been.

“I came over, your mum invited me. She explained.”

She did what? For a moment I feel betrayed.

“She said you weren’t doing so well. Stressed? I could make you some tea if you’d like. But I told you y/n, you’ll get into unis. You don’t have to worry so…”

I sigh. Mum had told him a half-truth. But he had come. Of course he had.

I couldn’t even think about uni right now because that lead me down a road of what if I couldn’t go because I had a baby. And that life felt so bleak it made me depressed.

“Harry.” I inch my blanket down a little and his eyes go round when he looks at me.

“You look…awful.”

“I know.” I cover my face with my hair but he brushes it away and kisses my forehead.

“No. I’m worried about you. I brought dinner-“

“Oh Harry.” I spot the bag he brought with him.

“I made it all for us. With my mum’s help but mostly me. I packed it to bring to you.”

I didn’t deserve him. And I had to tell him. And he was going to break up with me. What high school boy wanted a child?

“Harry it’s not uni.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I was carrying another living thing. It was the size of a seed but I was carrying it inside me. Like a living breathing pot. I was a potted plant.

“Then what is it?” His brows crinkle. “Is it us?”

“No!” I rush to tell him. “I…I don’t know how to say this. And I don’t know how you’re going to react but it’s okay either way.”

“What are you talking about?” His hands slide up my lap. “What is it?”

“Harry. I’m um, I’m pregnant.”

I watch him freeze and stay exactly how he is, his brows pinch ever so slightly. I knew this look. He looked still on the outside but his mind was racing. And I was scared what was racing through it.

“Pregnant?”

“Yeah. From…the holidays.”

“How did-I thought we-“

“I guess it’s not foolproof.” I whisper. Mum had told me to go on the pill, and I hadn’t listened because all my friends told me it made them gain weight. If only I had listened. Now I was gaining weight anyway.

“What are we going to do?” He asks next. And I never realized six little words could weigh the world. If I could cut those words out and surgically implant them into my heart I would. Just to remind me the equal parts relieved and comforted they made me.

I hold his face in my hands, new tears springing to my eyes. He was in this. With me.

He kisses me and pulls me into a hug. I cry into his shirt again and he holds me so tight I swear I could break.

“I don’t know if I can keep it Harry,” I finally whisper to him.

His hands fist in my shirt, he holds his breath and after a long minute he lets me go with it.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Was he really okay with all this?

“It’s…I can’t make you keep it.”

“You’d want to keep it?” I couldn’t believe it.

“It’s…” he swallows his sentence and keeps his gaze on my stomach. I tug his hand and lay it over it. When his eyes meet mine I see a hint of heartbreak. We were going to break our hearts either way I think.

Not once did I think he might want to keep it.

“It’s okay.” Harry finally says. “We’re so young right? How would we keep a baby and go to school, and do everything we always talk about?”

“Yeah I don’t…I don’t know.”

“I love you.” He says with such a sudden passion. I wrap my arms around his and return the sentiment.

Eventually we lay down and just talk about everything. Truthfully, my head was telling me not to keep the baby but everything else felt dead thinking about it.

Maybe that’s why it took me until April to finally make a decision. It was the size of a plum by then, and a tiny bump was starting to show but only when I stood naked in front of the mirror. With clothes on, nobody was the wiser. But the longer I kept it, I think the more Harry fell in love with it. The idea of it.

We have a long talk during our Easter holiday. We talked in my bedroom until the sun comes up. I tell him I was sure of my decision.

I’d gotten accepted to Cambridge by then. Harry was staying in London. We knew it wasn’t feasible. To live the life we always wanted, we had to get rid of this new life we never knew could happen.

I don’t know why but I don’t tell him the day I go to do it. I go with my mum. Mum drops my sister off at school—she didn’t know. Mum said she had a big mouth.

We drive in silence. When we park mum asks how I feel.

“Sad.” It was the truth. I knew this was right. But it felt like shite.

“Yeah.” She rubs my hands. “Want to go in?”

“I just want to sit here for a bit.” I tell her.

“Okay. I’ll go sign you in.”

She takes my purse and hers and leaves me there. I take the moment to ground myself. Say goodbye to the other future.

When mum knocks on my window I jump.

“Yn? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah yeah I’m coming in.” I open the door.

“You know you’ve been sitting here half hour?”

I pause, one leg out the door and one still in. “I…I must have got lost in my head. Sorry mum-“

“Look. Do you want to do this?”

“I don’t know…I have to.”

“There are other options love-“

“But how can I give it up and live my whole life like that?”

“We can help raise her. You can go on and live your life-“

“I’d be a horrible mother.” Mum and I had this row so many times before. It always ended in me storming away but I couldn’t here.

“You don’t need to make the decision today.”

“But I do.” I tell her. “Otherwise it’ll drive me insane.”

I tuck both feet back into the car and rest my hand on my belly. I’d allowed myself to do that only in my room, when I was alone. Doing it out here made it feel even more real. Suddenly I couldn’t imagine going through with the decision.

“I can’t do this.�� I tell my mum.

She smooths my hair down and kisses my temple. My door closes and a few seconds later she climbs in beside me.

“Think about it.”

“I can’t. But I can’t keep it either.”

“Okay.” Mum pulls me into her and I think I should cry but I can’t. I’m calm, maybe I know I’d made the right decision. Or just a decision. I was going to stick to this.

“I can’t raise it. I’m just a child I…maybe someone out there wants a baby and can’t have one maybe-“

“I’ll look into it for you.” Mum promises. “You set the rules remember?”

And that’s how it goes. Mum looks into it, we decide to go for adoption. We go to the hospital on the first warm day of the year. By then I’d taken to wearing jumpers over flowy dresses and been thankful for the first time in my life that I wasn’t skinny like other girls. At most angles you couldn’t tell my belly was so perfectly round.

By then too, Harry had accepted the decision. He seemed relieved. Thinking aloud he’d said maybe he could raise it, but quickly turned around when I asked him what he’d do about uni.

“Someone out there can take care of it better than us. Someone will love the baby like we do.”

During the summer, I tell all my friends I was staying with family in midlands. And I do go up there, that’s where the couple who was adopting lived. Harry and I meet them with my mum and his. It’s awkward, we run out of conversation fast. But their house is big and they already have a 2 year old from an adoption last year. My baby was going to be loved here. And have a sibling.

“We did want to discuss one last thing,” they’d said before we left. We all listen intently. “We…find it best when it’s a no contact adoption. We’ve had a lot of friends who keep contact open and it gets messy-“

“What?” I hadn’t really thought about this until now. Hearing I’d have to give the baby up and go on like it didn’t exist felt wrong. Harry’s hand slips into mine.

“This is typical,” Harry’s mum says from his side. “Let’s hear it out.”

“Right. So just to prevent future complications, we do no contact. Of course when baby’s older and wants to seek out the real parents we can’t stop them. But until then…”

“Thank you.” My mum steps in when it goes silent. I could hardly wrap my head around what they were saying. When it gets older?

Pretty soon mum is ushering me out and Harry’s hand is still clutching mine. We don’t let go until we reach my Uncle’s where we were staying until August. The baby was due in September. I was going to miss the first week of class.

“I can’t do this.” I tell them later. “How can we just have no contact.”

“I thought you knew.” Mum says. “I explained that some parents want this when they adopt.”

She might have. Ever since I hit the third trimester like my doctor said, I’ve had a hard time listening and understanding what someone was saying after they spoke too long. I was glad school was done—for obvious reasons, but also for not having to sit in a class and learn.

“We have no other choice.” Harry says from beside me. He rubs my back and slowly, I zone back into the conversation. “We can find another family but they might want the same thing.”

“What if the baby never looks for us?” I turn to him, our heads press against the other’s. “What if we go our whole lives just wondering?”

“What’s the other option?” Harry whispers. He was right. I just didn’t want to get it.

Acceptance slowly creeps into me over the course of the summer. It was always hot carrying another person around, I was always hungry and thirsty, and very cranky. Harry came up to see me every other weekend when he could, mum stayed with me and that summer was one I could never forget.

It was September 1st, a particularly hot day. Rain fell in the afternoon and by the time the unforgiving sun set, the cool air was heavenly.

I sat by the bedroom window, moisturizing my belly like mum had shown me, talking to the baby. I wrote it a letter last week all about me, that I loved them and hoped the best for them. I told the baby about my family, how Harry and I met, and then I sealed it in an envelope with a picture of Harry and me. It was taken last Halloween when we’d both dressed up as each other. I tell mum to give it to the new parents. In case the day came the baby wondered about who we were.

As I spoke softly, I felt a gush of something wet down my leg.

“What?” I stand up, confused. “I…”

It takes me a second. I was going into labour.

“Mum!” I shout. “Mum! Come here!”

She rushes in and confirms it. It was happening.

“But it’s supposed to be next week!” I try not to panic but that’s all I can do as mum grabs our things and my aunt rushes to the car. “Does this mean something’s wrong? Is the baby o-“

I freeze as a contraction forces me to fold. I’d felt the kicking and the nausea and everything in between but these. These were a bitch.

Somehow we make it to hospital. Somehow I lay on a bed and push when the doctor tells me to. I nearly pass out. I just wanted Harry here with me. He didn’t know his kid was being born.

With a final push that felt like I was ascending my body and leaving it behind, I hear a wail and I cry. The baby was out, they cried and everything was okay.

“Okay congratulations mummy,” a nurse crouches down to me. “We’re going to clean you and baby up. She’s healthy and looks okay.”

“What?” I can barely see with my hair in my face and the nurses around me. It was a she? I had a baby girl?

We were never told the gender, so we wouldn’t get attached. But I had a baby girl. The nurse just called me mum.

I feel the tears on my cheeks, I was crying too. I try to look around me but a new nurse is talking in hushed voices to the doctor.

“…outside…call…adoption…shouldn’t or….contact-“

“What’s going on?” I can barely get the words out. “What?”

“Oh my love,” suddenly mum’s in the room and things are a bit better. A bit better.

“Mum what’s going on?”

“The baby’s born. The parents are outside they’re going to meet her soon.”

“What?” I look at mum’s face and it’s shining with tears. Why was she crying?

“Oh she’s beautiful love, she’s perfect. But your job’s done now. You should rest.”

“Mum,” I cry. “Where is she? Can’t I hold her?”

“No love,” mum moves my hair out of my face. I feel something break in half inside of me. I couldn’t even hold the baby? The baby girl? Mine and Harry’s baby girl?

“Why? Mum why? I just want to see her-“

“I’m sorry,” mum says through tears. “It’s just the way it is. She’s going to a loving home okay? She’s good. You’re okay.”

I can’t stop crying. I was going to lose her last April and I stopped that but I lost her anyway. My baby, I was never going to see her.

I remember when my sister was born. I was 5 and I was angry she’d taken the attention away. But when I saw her with her perfect toes and angel face I was obsessed with her. I even remember her first steps, she’d taken them at a park with mum and dad and me together. I was never going to know these things about my own baby. I was never going to know her.

I must pass out soon after. I remember waking up to the nurses instructing me about something. I’m half asleep and barely remember what I did when I get up. When I do wake it’s morning and there’s a figure on the chair beside me.

“You’re up.”

Harry. Relief washes over me knowing he’s here.

“Harry they took her,” I tell him.

“I know. I know yn.”

I move aside and he crawls into bed with me. I must look disgusting but he watches me with love brimming in his eyes. I can tell he’s been crying.

“I feel empty,” I whisper. Like someone had carved me out like a pumpkin. Something I’d had with me all year was gone. “How can I just move on? Start uni and all that when I…they just took her.”

“I keep thinking that.” Harry says. “Khalil invited me to a party to meet some blokes from uni and I just sat in my car the whole time. I couldn’t even go in. She…she was never going to be ours.”

“I feel awful.” I burrow into his neck as he strokes my hair. “A baby girl.”

“A baby girl,” Harry echoes.

***

I head to uni a week later. My body still feels like it fought a war and lost. It’s like it still thinks there’s a baby there. I produce milk for a few days, continue to have contractions, my belly is saggier than usual and I can’t stop crying about everything.

My dad drops me off to uni. He tells me he was proud of me, that I was always his baby girl. I cry then just like I cried at home when I said bye to mum, or when my sister hugged me which she never does. I can’t stop crying.

When I move into my dorm I feel like a completely different person than I thought I was going to be. My dormmate fills me in on everything she’s learned, complains about a boy and a party and it just feels so irrelevant to me. Did I used to care about those things? I had a baby. And now I didn’t.

By October, Harry and I are in different worlds. We hadn’t broken up but we talk weekly. Each week there’s less to talk about. When I visit home in October, being around him just makes me sad. He tries to cheer me up, make it like old times, but I know he’s hurting inside too.

I decide to do the breaking up. And at first he’s angry, insisting we could make it work. He actually refuses and walks away. We don’t talk for a whole day.

But at a house party in South where his uni mates were from, he accepts the end.

Through tears we kiss each other one final time, we whisper sweet nothings, we pour into each other all the hopes and wishes we had for each other.

When he hugs me for the last time I leave something behind. It’s similar to waking up the morning after my delivery and knowing something was gone. I really feel the shape of the loss. It sits in my sternum, a hole that grows smaller with time, but not just yet.

I fall into a depressed state for most of my first semester but my dormmate doesn’t give up on me and eventually I go to my first uni party. Eventually my brain fog clears and I actually go to all my classes. Eventually my life, on the outside, looks like it could be back to normal but inside I ache with the loss. So much that it becomes part of me. I don’t know where it ends, and I begin. It lives in me.

Age 23.

“The first of many hey?” Mal clinks his bottle to mine. I barely knew Mal but we were both friends with Khalil and therefore both at his stag.

“Before you know it we’re all going down,” one of Khalil’s friends joins in. “Stag after stag, suit after suit, it’s gonna be a blur man.”

“Let’s enjoy it while we can!” Someone cheers and everyone raises their beers. I toast with a smile; blokes loved to act like being in a relationship was the last thing they wanted when I knew most of them were mush in their girlfriend’s hands.

I also smile knowing I bought an engagement ring a few weeks back. I wanted to propose to Shannon, we met on her 22 when a friend invited me along. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the birthday girl. We’d been together since.

“Who do you think’s next?” The bets start going and nobody bets on me. Everyone always thought Shan was too good for me, they were counting on us breaking up. I was going to prove them all wrong.

The night gets sloppier until we all head back to the air bnb we’d rented for this. Tomorrow we were all supposed to go play golf like we were cosplaying old money bastards when we all knew we were just broke blokes from East. But I guaranteed they’d all be too hungover. We would get to the club and just drink the hangovers away.

And I’m right. I update Shan that I’m right when the boys stay in the dining area of the club. They decide on lunch and I step out to talk to my girlfriend.

“No birds allowed this weekend,” someone pipes in when I excuse myself.

“That’s just cuz you’re miserable Eli.” I brush past as the boys laugh. At me. And him.

I catch up with Shan. It was a bright day for September and I stay a little longer after the phone ends. Shan was in med school, she was always stressed or sleep deprived. I tried to support her the best I could—right now she needed moral support that she was going to get an internship she was applying for.

“Mummy doesn’t like when I have sweets,” a small voice says to my left. I look at a father with his daughter. He’s crouched down zipping her sweater up while she rambles on.

“Well it’s going to be our secret.” The dad says. “Sundays are for sweets aren’t they?”

“I love sweets.” She responds.

The father catches my eye and I shoot him a smile.

“Her mum’s going to hear every detail when we get home,” he says as he stands. “Can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

I laugh. The way she was rambling on, I didn’t think so. “How old’s she?”

“6.” He says, smiling down at her fondly. My heart aches.

“Almost 7.” She corrects her dad.

“Birthday’s in the spring.” He says more to me. “But almost 7 sure.”

I see them leave with one more shared smile, like we’re in on something. I imagine that’s how it would feel to be a parent. Always knowing something your kid doesn’t.

My daughter was 6. Wherever she was.

Thinking about the daughter I never had, the girl I lost always leaves me a little winded. Today’s no different.

Yn and I both made an agreement and it had been the hardest thing I’d done. Letting her go. It took me a proper year to even think about moving on.

I liked to think about yn, doing everything she wanted to do. But when I thought about the baby I spiralled into a dark pit. Sometimes when I drank too much, it pulled me in too deep to get out of. That’s what Shan liked to call my depressive drinking. She’s limited me to 3 drinks since.

Before I go in I take a minute to think about yn, where she might be. I hear from friends in high school random facts about her life. But I wonder how she’s doing. If she thinks about our baby like I do. How life would have been if I’d been here, calling her on the phone instead, asking if our baby girl was doing alright.

Age 29.

I stare at the nape of the man in front of me. It couldn’t be, but I’d memorized the back of his head—amongst other things, nearly 2 decades ago and I would bet £1000 I knew who this was. But I continue staring until the cashier rings him up.

In the same voice I remember, the one from my memories and my fantasies, I hear him say: “debit.”

I wait for him to pay before saying, “Harry?”

He turns so quickly he drops his card, wallet, and keys.

“Hi!” I laugh awkwardly and crouch down to help him pick his things up. There’s an awareness that the people in the queue behind me are witness to a moment that feels more intimate than a grocery store chat and it makes me shrink a little in my shell like a spooked turtle.

“Hi I-uh,” Harry short-circuits in front of me as the bored cashier holds his receipt out and stares at him with eyes that have worked one shift too many.

“I’ll just bag-“

“Yeah we can talk later.” I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile but it feels watery. I couldn’t believe of all the places I’d run into him, it was a grocery queue. How intense in such a mundane place.

As I watch my total rise on screen I risk a glance at Harry. His hand hovers over a white reusable bag, I wonder if that was his. Or his wife’s. If they did their weekly shop in a mismatch of bags that looked like that or they were the type of couple to have a set.

His eyes are on me though, somehow here and not here. I feel the same way.

I look back to the cashier asking me how I was paying. She glances between Harry and I. I don’t look back at him. Or the growing queue a few feet away.

I take my groceries—just some items my mum asked me to pick up, and stuff them into the tote I’m wearing. Harry waits for me by the exit.

“Hi.” He says as his eyes scan my face. I do the same, taking in all the ways time had spent with him. It must have been good—he looked good. “I can’t believe-“

“A Whole Foods of all places.” I laugh. A grin splits his face but his eyes stay on me.

“That smile, that laugh. God I’ve missed you.”

“I…missed you too.” How I could miss someone I’d known for one year and then never again for nearly two decades…I didn’t realize it was possible until now.

“Are you busy?” He asks. “Maybe we can grab a drink or?”

“I don’t…drink.” I hated that I had to announce it to people. I was still at the stage where I was figuring out how to say it confidently, or find a way around saying it.

“Oh.” Harry glances down at my belly and I realize he’d misunderstood but it’s too unspoken to correct him. “Cafe?”

“Yeah. That sounds lovely.” Honestly going anywhere with him sounded lovely right now. I wanted to cancel all my plans for the day and just sit with him. Stare at him and catch up. I couldn’t believe he was here.

We walk in a comfortable but waiting silence, like taking a cold drink out to a park with the anticipation it’s going to be good , and no desperation to open it as soon as you get it.

“Usual? Tea?” Harry asks when we step into a nearby cafe. It’s big for a cafe but has enough students working on laptops to not feel empty. I nod, unsure how to feel that Harry still knows what I order at a cafe. Or that my order hasn’t changed since 17.

I find us a booth and pretty soon he’s sliding into the seat across from me. The two of us can’t stop smiling.

“Hi,” he says again.

“Hi…”

“You look good, the same but better.”

“I was going to say the same thing about you!” I exclaim. More smiling.

“How’s…I mean, how are you? How is everything? What-“

“There’s so much to ask-“

“I don’t even know how to ask what I want to know!” Harry laughs and I’m warmed from the inside out at the sound of it.

“This shouldn’t be hard!”

“No.” He scrubs his face. “I’m really buzzing that we’ve run into each other.”

“Me too. It’s a bit unbelievable.”

“I know.” He continues gripping his cup and not taking his eyes off of me. It’s the exact way he used to look at me when we were teenagers. It nearly takes my breath away. “You look good—but I already said that. Sorry.”

“No,” I laugh. “That’s all that’s running through my head.”

“Oh—I remember hearing you were engaged a few years ago-“

“Yeah.” I turn my hand so he can see the ring. “Married now. You?”

“Yeah,” he looks down at his own hand. He had so many rings on I couldn’t tell from a glance. “Coming up to 5 years now.”

“Wow. It’s only 1.5 for me but Tatum and I—my husband, we’d been since uni.”

“Took him a while.”

“Mhm,” it had been a sore subject way back then. Harry says it casually but he studies my face. I know he wants to ask more but he’ll politely maneuver around it.

“Are you happy?”

I let out a breath. “That’s more complicated than anything else you could ask!”

“Is it?”

“Yeah I-“ I shrug. “I don’t know if I am. But I also have no idea what I could do about it. So. There’s that.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” My stomach curdles with his words. I didn’t want pity, least of all from Harry. Harry. I can’t believe he was here. “I get it though. Everyone says your 30s are even more glorious than your 20s. We’ll see soon enough if they’re right.”

I meet his eye, they always intimidated me to look too long into. Even now, I glance back down at my drink. When I look up again he has a wry smile twisting his lips. He knew.

I was sorry to hear life hadn’t been as good for him. And then I understand, it wasn’t pity he was giving me. He truly was sorry like I.

I thought about Harry often. Of course I did. I liked to imagine him living out his dreams like he always talked about. I liked to imagine him happy and thriving.

“Do you ever think about us?” I have to ask. “If we did it all differently?”

“We would have had a 12 year old with us.”

Hearing him say it feels like someone had taken a screwdriver and opened me up. Raw and exposed. But looking at him I know he thought about her as much as I had. Both of us were apparently mourning a future neither of us had fought for.

“Yeah,” I breathe but I just sound winded.

“We were trying, at one point—Shan and I.” Harry fiddles with his ring. “Did all the tests and the trials and the shite. But no kids. It put a real strain on my relationship. I think we cracked instead of bending. And I don’t think either of us know how to make it right again.”

I grasp his hand and squeeze. “I know what that’s like. It’s hard. I…a couple years ago. I lost a baby. A baby boy. I felt like it was a punishment for-“

“Don’t.”

We hold onto each other, our drinks long forgotten. He holds my hand and it feels like being known again, like I wasn’t such an awful person. That someone could see everything I’ve done and still choose to have love for me.

“I’m sorry.” He tells me.

“Me too.” I bite my lip. With a sigh I let him go and lean back. Here we’d been so excited to bump into each other but we’d both been carrying sorrow and grief. It wasn’t very hopeful.

“So I guess you’re not drinking because you’re-“

“No.” I say, surprisingly without feeling awkward. “I’m just sober right now. Trying to figure out life without a drink.”

“Sounds like torture but I respect that. Sounds hard.”

“It was at first. I like the feeling now of thinking clearly. But I miss a glass of wine I do sometimes.”

We smile at each other.

“So do you live around here?” Harry broaches talking again after both of us had lapsed into silence for a while. I blink away the fog of the past.

“Yeah. You?”

“Nah. Shan’s out of town and I was feeling lonely. Came over to visit my sister. I’m just staying with her for the week.”

“Lucky me then.” I smile.

“Lucky me too.” He smiles back. It’s soft. We’re soft. It felt impossible to me after all this time the tenderness was still the strongest thing between us.

We chat a bit more, much about nothing. What we did for a job, anyone we still kept in touch with from school. Nothing that meant a lot.

“I need to head off now,” I say when my phone buzzes for a second time. “I was on my way to my mum’s. She keeps calling me.”

“Yeah. Don’t want to keep you.” Harry says but he stays seated. So do I.

We continue just studying the other until my phone rings again and I laugh. “It was…I really loved seeing you.”

I slide out and Harry mirrors me. I still come to his chest, he still smells the same and stands the same and looks just as handsome.

“How about uhm, how about dinner some time?” Harry asks. I knew it was coming, it’s still painful saying no.

“I…can’t. I…we can’t just do dinner, can we?”

“No,” Harry bows his head. We had too much history to just do dinner. From what he said—and I knew, both our lives were too complicated to add the allure of each other into the mix. I couldn’t do that to my life as tempted as I was. Especially not sober.

“Yeah.” He stands straight again and gives me space to head to the door. “Good seeing you. Give your mum my best if she doesn’t hate me.”

“She doesn’t.” I assure him. We stand awkwardly not sure if a kiss, a hug, or a wave was appropriate. We settle for a hug.

I remember the last time I was enveloped in his arms, tucked away into his tall frame. When we said goodbye forever, agreed to live our best lives separately. We’d both been too scarred to be anything together. Too much grief.

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again.” Harry smiles at me when we part.

“Maybe,” I say knowing full well I wouldn’t do groceries on the weekend anymore.

With a final wave we both part ways again, this time it doesn’t feel as much like closure.

Age 35.

“Graduation’s graduating, what a mouthful.” I say to Andie. We sit in the parking lot of a local pub back home. Both of us had avoided reunions after going to the first one 10 years ago and being reminded of how much people liked to remind you of who you used to be. But this year Andie found out an old flame was going and single. And this is the first year I saw that Harry had checked off going. So we’d decided to go together.

I could have easily reached out to him. Asked him about meeting up there. But I didn’t want to come across any way. I remember our run-in 6 years ago. We felt the same way—we would do anything for each other, and I didn’t want any affect over him coming. Last I heard he was still in a relationship. Just cuz I was didn’t mean I had to ruin another.

“Okay. We going in?” Andie passes me her flask.

I’d taken to drinking again. Originally I stopped after a particularly bad night when I was 28. It nearly cost me my wedding back then.

I stopped to get sober. To feel what it felt like not to rely on alcohol to keep from feeling my emotions. I had a lot of grief I never processed. And unfortunately being sober, and processing the grief and depression, had ultimately cost me my marriage. But I was better for it. I knew what unconditional love and support was. I didn’t want to settle for someone who only loved me at my best.

Now I felt in control when I drank. I knew when to stop.

“Let’s go!”

“Do you think he’ll remember me?” Andie asks as we walk up to the place.

“You comment on so many of his posts. I think he does.” I tease.

“Gah. It would have saved me so much heartbreak if I just told him back 18 years ago how I felt.”

“Maybe,” I think about my confessed love 18 years ago and the heartbreak that ensued.

“Well at least I would have gotten him outta my system. Oh god I see him-“

“Hi ladies,” we’re stopped near the front and given name tags, making small talk with the girls working the booth. I vaguely remember them from a club but I have to read their name tags to pretend I remembered them at all.

Andie ditches me pretty quickly but I don’t mind. I find some friends I saw a couple times a year. Guess this was the couple time this year.

The whole time my eyes scan the room. People had brought their partners and I wondered if Harry would do the same. Deep down, I prayed he didn’t. I just wanted to see him.

I spot him halfway through the night. He’s leaning against the bar talking to Khalil. I remembered they used to be friends, he was always nice to me while Harry and I dated.

I watch him talk and drink. I lose him for a bit and then catch him leaving. Shite.

I excuse myself and rush out but nearly trip over myself slowing down. He was just outside for a smoke break.

“When did that habit start?” I ask. He nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Fu-y/n you scared me.” He shakes his face dramatically, like he’s getting something off of it. I bite back a smile, he was pretty drunk. “When did you get here? I didn’t know you came to these things?”

“I don’t.” I correct him. I couldn’t tell him I came for him. “It was just the name of this reunion, Graduation’s graduating. How could I pass it up?”

This earns a laugh. Eases the air between us. “Did you see Oli in there? He’s gotten bald.”

“He looks like his dad actually,” I remember his dad was always coming to Oli’s football matches, screaming at his son to run faster.

“Glad you didn’t end up with him?” Harry smirks.

“Oh yeah. I heard last reunion he just kept going up for the karaoke sober. If I want my bloke to embarrass me, at least give him the excuse of being drunk.”

“Shit,” Harry laughs. “I remember that! I remember! Wish I could forget!”

I laugh with him. “Harry you’re getting pretty close to drunk yourself.”

“Ah yeah. More than 3 drinks that, I’m being naughty tonight.”

I scrunch my nose, no idea what he’s talking about.

“I can’t believe you’re here tonight,” Harry says again. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you again for another 12 years after our last time.”

“Thought I’d halve the time.” I watch Harry squash out the butt.

“Glad you did.” He looks at me and I’m 17 again. Why couldn’t we both be single? Why did I come here knowing I couldn’t have him.

Maybe I was as masochistic as the person who invented maths.

“Yn?” A voice calls out to me. “Oi! It is you I thought I was dreaming you up! What a sight!”

I’d been avoiding Oli all night. Not anymore.

I glance at Harry and he hides a smirk. Oli notices Harry then and his face hardens a little.

“Oli! Long time!” I go in for the hug he’s reaching for, unsure why he was so sweaty on an autumn night. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he grins at me. “You look good! Not a day over 25.”

“Don’t flatter me Oli,” I roll my eyes. “It’s not going to get you anything.”

“I’m not looking! I swear it!” He says earnestly. “I’m just paying you a compliment. It’s good to see you. Hey, I’m actually in a good relationship. Gonna propose to her.”

“Are you? What’s she like?”

I stand in the brisk evening as Oli tells me about his girlfriend. I’m happy for him, what we had in high school wasn’t really a relationship but I never wished him bad. He was a good guy, I was glad he found his person.

I change the subject when he asks about my love life, tell him I was getting cold. We head back in and I tell him I’d catch up to him later. I’d lost Harry and wanted to find him again. I had more I wanted to talk about.

“Khalil,” I interrupt him playing pool. He goes in for a hug and I engage in polite small talk until I tire of it. “I’m looking for Harry.”

“Of course you are,” he wags a finger at me. “I saw him leaving ten minutes ago?”

“Jeez really?” I couldn’t believe I missed him! After coming here just for him. Maybe he had to get home, maybe he had a kid by now. Had to tuck him in.

“He’s not doing so well since the divorce-“

“What?” I stare at Khalil like he’s spoken gibberish. Why hadn’t I heard about that?

“Ehm yeah. He’s pretty private about it.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Yeah. He’s been separated a few years now but he just signed the papers a couple weeks ago. I dunno. He gets kinda depressed around this time of year. Probably the weather.”

It was September. It wasn’t the weather.

I had to find him.

I brush past the people I went to school with. I followed Harry outside to a roof 17 years ago and today I follow him out to find him again. We needed to talk.

I look both ways, hoping for a miracle.

I spot a figure slumped on the far end of the road. I recognize the church, it was where we went every Easter and Christmas growing up.

I walk towards the figure until I can make out the hair. It was Harry. Thank god.

“Why’d you leave?” I ask him when he looks up to my approaching footsteps.

“I drank too much,” he hangs his head again. I sit beside him.

“I heard about the divorce. I’m sorry.”

Harry shrugs. “We separated a while ago. It was coming for a long time.”

“Yeah. Still.” I say.

We sit in silence, the only sound is our breathing and the faint noises from the pub down the road.

“She’s in her last year by now.” I say without further explanation. I know he’d know.

“Our baby’s 17.”

Our baby? I feel choked up. All these years we’d been apart, built our own lives, and there was still an our even when there hadn’t been.

“It’s always been us hasn’t it?” Harry says. “Nobody understands.”

“They couldn’t. We were so young, making such a big decision.”

“Oh y/n.” He leans into me and I wrap my arm around his shoulder. He’s cold, his jacket pooled on the steps around him. I gather it to spread over his shoulder but he stops me. “How much heartbreak can you have in one lifetime?”

I sit, aching for the pain Harry was going through. Knowing it was mirrored in me.

“I’ve had enough for a lifetime. I know that.”

“Me too.” Harry sighs. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here.” I intertwine our hands. They still fit the exact same, all these years later. I examine them, but they looked the same too. I wonder if our baby girl ever looked at her hands, wondered who she inherited them from.

“D’you think she thinks about us?” Harry asks what I’m thinking.

“Maybe.” I say. “I like to think so. I just hope she doesn’t hate us for giving her up.”

“Yeah me too I think…” he hangs his head. I hear him sniffle. Seems like Harry hit the point of drinking where all you could feel is regret. I remember those days. I knew where he was.

When he doesn’t finish his sentence I fill the silence; “Me and Tatum split uh…four years ago now.” I update him. “You probably heard something about it. I remember my mum saying she ran into yours when it was happening. They probably talked all about it.”

I wait for Harry to give confirmation but he stays the way he is.

“I went sober a few years before then. Almost ruined our wedding cuz I was exactly where you were. Unprocessed grief and all I could do was drink about it. I’d given up a baby at 18, then lost a baby a decade later. It feels silly to say out loud, that something that never really came into this world—something the size of a fruit could act like the rock you push up the hill every morning. The grief you fight at your darkest times. How could we be haunted by something that didn’t even exist—not technically. But that’s just the way it was. And that’s the way it had to be when we were 18. I’m not always sure I made the right decision overall but I know it was a decision we had to make at the time. I’ve had to find my peace. So do you Harry.”

“Yeah. I-I have to. Y’know? Sometimes I wonder if I would have made her proud.” Harry sniffles. I had similar thoughts. My throat feels tight remembering. “I don’t think, right now, I would be.”

“She’s so loved. She is so loved Harry. Whatever…wherever she is.”

“I love you.” Harry turns to me. His face is raw with grief and emotion. “Never stopped loving you. But I don’t want to give you this version of me.”

“I’ll take any version of you Harry.” I reassure him. “I think we’ve seen too much of each other to be able to hide anything away.”

He tips forward slowly until his head rests on my chest. I hold him there, just like he’d done for me so many years ago. I tell him the type of thing that meant everything to me back then and I hope it helps him to hear it: “We’ll get through this Harry.”

***

“I don’t remember getting here.”

I look up from my book, Harry stands in my kitchen with a confused look on his face. It was weird seeing him here in my flat. But it was so right too.

“We walked home. I thought you sobered up.”

“Nuh-uh.” He takes a few steps towards me, hesitant.

“Coffee?”

“Maybe I’ll take a shower first?”

“First door on your right. Extra towels in the cupboard.”

“Thanks.”

We look at one another for a beat before he moves back. I make another pot of coffee and clean up from breakfast while he showers.

Next time he walks back in he looks a lot better. Smells nice too.

“Black please.” He says when I hold the coffee up.

I pour him a cup and watch him sip it.

“Thank you for last night.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I tell him.

“I remember what you said to me. You’re right of course. I think I knew it, I just didn’t have anyone to talk to about it with. Nobody knew about us…”

“You didn’t have to keep it a secret ‘til this day Harry.” I was surprised he had. “You didn’t even tell any of your friends?”

“The only people who knew were my family, a-and Shan. But. Year after year it didn’t mean the same thing to her. I stopped talking to her about it pretty quickly. Think it made it worse because her and I couldn’t actually…”

“Yeah.” I understood.

“But I realized. I think it was losing both of you. I feel like you were taken away too. We just went from being around each other all the time to cold turkey. That was a loss too so…”

“Yeah.” Again, I understood.

“I’m 35. I’ve gotta…get my head on straight.”

I examine him. “Looks okay to me?”

He smiles and puts his cup down.

“I’m sorry to hear about your divorce.”

“Meh that was years ago. Hard then. Fine now. For the best.”

“I agree,” Harry moves around the table to stand where I am. My heart pulses just like it always does around him. He rests a hand on my hip, dragging it up to wrap around my waist. He must feel how hard my heart’s beating. “Did I tell you? That I love you?”

“Maybe?” I feel myself growing more present. The hole that always lived inside of me growing even smaller in this moment. It allows me to settle on the floor better; less air, more weight.

“Well I do. I love you. At 17, or at 35.” He says this with a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth.

“Well. I love you.” I return the kiss, relish in the way his hand grips my tank. “At 17, or 35.”

“Sometimes I wish I held on tighter at 17. But I look at you now and I’m excited to get to know you again.”

His words pour over me like honey. It was sweet we were still on the same page.

“I’m not letting you go this time.” Harry whispers in my ear. He pulls me in tight, swaying from side to side. “I want to spend 41 and 50 with you. I want all of you, every side.”

“Perfect,” I peer up at him. “That’s exactly what I want too.”

“And maybe one day,” he continues in a hush voice. “We’ll get a call from a young girl. She’ll tell us all about her life in a town up north. About a picture she has of her mother dressed like her father and her father dressed like her mother.”

“She’ll tell us she’s had a good life, and she’s thought about the people in the picture. She’d tell us she wants to meet them.”

“We would be able to show her the love we kept for her. Our love’s like a venn diagram, the bit in the middle is just for her. She’d know why she was born in the first place.”

“Closure,” I whisper to him. “We would know closure.”

I remember the day she was taken, how the loss of not even being able to see her felt bigger than the loss of her itself back then.

I think of a 17 year old girl, with green eyes and brown hair. With my smile and Harry’s dimples. My hands, and Harry’s height. She was loved by people, families, that she didn’t even know existed yet.

They say if you love something, let it go. If it’s meant to be it’ll come back.

As Harry and I stay intertwined in the kitchen of my flat, I send out a wish into the universe for her like I did most days. That she was healthy, happy, and one day curious enough to seek us out. That one day, she would come back.

Right now I focus on the man in my arms. The one I never thought I’d get to hold again. For now this was all I needed. I’d loved him, let him go, and after so many years apart, we were back.

#harry styles fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry stylesxreader #read with caution #sad but hopeful #kinda nervous to post #this fic is qd

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peavhyshy · 10 months

Text

𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦 (oneshot)

Pairing: Sarah Cameron x Reader

Summary: In which you and Sarah share a secret kiss while hanging out alone in your room, complicating both of your relationships with John B.

Warnings: sarah cheats on john b with reader, explicit language, fluff, smut, secret relationship, friends to lovers, this set after ward blew himself up, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, fingering, oral sex, grinding/tribbing, nipple play

Words: 2,617

a/n: guys is it bad to sleep with your best friend when your boyfriend is being a douche and didn't comfort you after you watched your dad die? but seriously there needs to be more sarah fics on here, y'all sleeping on her

((not proofread because i'm lazy and rereading stuff I write makes me cringe for some reason))

Outer Banks Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The sun had just set over OBX, casting an orange glow across the sandy beaches. Inside the your families beach house, Sarah lay sprawled across your bed, half-watching some cheesy rom-com on the little TV in your room.

"Ugh, I can't watch this anymore," Sarah groaned, grabbing the remote and flicking through channels aimlessly. She was grateful for you trying to cheer her up after the traumatic events of the past few days, but she just wasn't in the mood for happy endings right now.

You glanced over from where you sat braiding friendship bracelets on the floor. "Yeah, I'm not really feeling it either," you said with a sympathetic smile. You tied off the bracelet and scooted up onto the bed next to Sarah.

Sarah clicked off the TV and flopped back onto the pile of pillows with a dramatic sigh. "I just keep replaying it all in my head, you know? Like maybe if I had done something differently…" Her voice trailed off as she stared up at the ceiling fan swirling above you guys.

You reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "It's not your fault, Sarah. There's nothing you could have done."

Sarah turned her head to look at you, her brown eyes glistening. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, You looked so beautiful and comforting that Sarah suddenly felt the urge to kiss you. Before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned in and pressed her lips to yours.

Your eyes went wide in surprise before slowly closing as you kissed Sarah back tentatively. After a few seconds, you broke apart, blushing wildly.

"Um, wow," you breathed, biting your lip. "So that just happened."

Sarah let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, sorry, I guess I'm just feeling extra emotional and impulsive tonight. I've always thought you were really pretty though." She grinned sheepishly.

You laughed and playfully hit Sarah with a pillow. "Oh so that's how it is, huh? Taking advantage of me in my own bedroom?"

Sarah dramatically flipped her hair. "I mean, can you blame me? Have you seen this hair?"

You both dissolved into giggles, the tension instantly broken. No matter what else was going on in your lives, you always had each other. And maybe this was the beginning of something more.

“What about John B?” you asked, putting the bracelet on Sarah’s hand.

Sarah sighed, twisting the new bracelet around her wrist. "John B…I don't know. He's been so caught up in everything with his dad and the gold, it's like he doesn't even see me anymore. I miss how things used to be between us."

She looked up at you. "But then there's this…" she gestured between you guys. "This connection we have. I've never felt this way about another girl before."

You nodded, a worried crease forming between your brows. "I know what you mean. I care about John B, but I also care about you." you bit your lip. "Maybe we should keep this between us for now? At least until we figure things out.”

Sarah considered it for a moment then nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re probably right. No need to complicate things even more.” She linked her pinky with yours. “This can be our little secret.”

You smiled, hooking your pinky with Sarah’s. “Our secret,” you repeated.

Sarah leaned in conspiratorially. “So should we pick up where we left off before we were so rudely interrupted by your question?” you teased.

You giggled and closed the distance once more, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss.

Sarah lifts your shirt over your head, exposing your bare chest. She runs her hands up your sides, caressing your soft skin as she kisses down your neck. You let out a soft gasp, tangling your fingers in Sarah's blonde hair.

"Sarah…" you breathe out, your heart pounding as Sarah's hands continue to explore your body. You feel a growing heat between your legs, this new intimacy with Sarah awakening desires you never knew you had. Sarah kisses lower, trailing her lips down your collarbone, then takes a hard nipple into her mouth. You moan, arching your back off the bed at the sensation.

Sarah lifts her head to look into your eyes, her own darkened with lust. She reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, then tosses it aside. Sarah sits back on her knees to admire your naked form, a smirk playing on her kiss-swollen lips.

"You're so fucking beautiful," she says throatily before leaning down to capture your lips once more. As your tongues meet, Sarah reaches down to undo the button on your shorts, her hand slipping beneath the waistband. You gasp into Sarah's mouth at the intimate touch, your hips bucking involuntarily. You never felt more alive than in this moment with Sarah, every nerve-ending tingling with anticipation.

Sarah's fingers dip lower, finding slick heat that makes you cry out. She strokes slowly at first, learning what makes you whimper and moan.

As Sarah's fingers work between your legs, you feel pleasure building within your core. Your breathing comes faster, soft moans escaping with each circular stroke of Sarah's fingers over your slick, swollen clit. Your hips rock uncontrollably, pushing yourself against Sarah's hand as your arousal grows.

Sarah watches your face, taking in every flutter of your eyelids, every gasp and whimper. She slides two fingers lower, teasing your entrance before pushing them inside. You cry out at the penetration, panting Sarah's name over and over. Sarah thrusts her fingers slowly at first, then faster as your inner walls clench tight around them.

The coil of tension in your belly winds tighter and tighter until suddenly it snaps, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of euphoria. Your back arches off the bed, a string of curses and Sarah's name on your lips as you come undone.

Sarah pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, her own bright with exhilaration and desire. She runs her fingers through your tousled hair and grins, trailing her hand down your body. She slips her fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts again, raising an eyebrow in question.

You bit your lip and nodded, lifting your hips so Sarah can slide your shorts and underwear off. Sarah tosses them aside, then settles between your parted thighs, kissing a path up your inner leg. You shiver in anticipation, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch. When Sarah's mouth finally finds your pussy, you gasp, your head falling back against the pillows.

Sarah hums in satisfaction at your reaction, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. She uses her tongue to explore your slick folds, quickly finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes you cry out and clutch at the sheets. Sarah focuses her attention there, alternating between broad laps of her tongue and tight circles around your clit.

Your soon panting and writhing beneath her. "Oh god, Sarah…feels so good…" you moan. The coil of tension winds tight once more until you shatter again with a sharp cry, your thighs clamping around Sarah's head as you come. Sarah works you through it with soft licks, not stopping until you go limp with satisfaction.

Your moans fill the room as straddles you and slips off her underwear, your bodies coming together in a tantalizing display of desire. The slickness of your wetness creates friction that sends shivers of pleasure through both of you. Sarah's core radiates heat, igniting a fire within you that can't be quenched.

Your hands greedily explore Sarah's sides, eager to feel every inch of her. You grab onto Sarah's ass, pulling her closer, urging her to grind harder against your throbbing clit. Sarah leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you both breathless. Your tongues dance and entwine, a passionate tango of desire. The taste of your shared arousal fill your mouths, fueling your hunger for each other.

Your hips move in perfect harmony, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. Sarah's grinding against your clit, your clits rubbing together in a rhythm that drives you both wild. The wetness between your legs acts as a lubricant, allowing your movements to become even more intense, more intimate.

You arch your back, offering your breasts to Sarah's hungry mouth. Sarah eagerly takes the invitation, capturing a nipple between her lips, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh. The sensation shoots electric sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

With one final, powerful thrust, Sarah's body shudders with pleasure. She cries out, her climax washing over her in a wave of bliss that crashes through her entire being. Her walls clench around nothing but the air, her core pulsating with every release.

Your own release follows closely behind, your body convulsing in waves of pleasure. The intense sensations ripple through you, causing you to grip onto Sarah tightly, your bodies pressed together in an intimate embrace. You both ride out the waves of your orgasms together, matching each other's moans and gasps.

When you finally break apart your both are flushed and beaming. Sarah's fingers gently stroke your face as you kiss languidly, softly.

"Was that okay?" Sarah asks after a moment, suddenly shy.

You smile, pulling Sarah down for another lingering kiss. "More than okay," you assure her. Sarah grins, nuzzling into your neck.

Sarah smiles contentedly and lays her head on on your chest, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat as it returns to normal. She feels a sense of peace and belonging that she hasn't felt in a long time. Here with you, away from the chaos and tragedy of the outside world, Sarah can simply be. No expectations, no pretending - just two souls connecting on the most intimate level.

Sarah traces lazy circles on your bare stomach as you lay entwined. She thinks about how rapidly her feelings have shifted - from seeing you only as a friend, to suddenly being unable to resist her. It feels natural though, not scary or confusing like her past crushes on boys. With you it just feels…right.

Eventually your lips find each other again, the kisses growing heated once more. You roll yourselves over so you're the one on top, straddling Sarah's hips. You look down at Sarah with hungry eyes as you slowly grind against her. Sarah gasps at the delicious friction, gripping your hips.

"Now it's my turn," you say in a low voice that sends a jolt of arousal straight between Sarah's legs. You reach down and tugs at the hem of Sarah's shirt. "Take this off."

Sarah complies, pulling her shirt up over her head and tossing it aside. You make quick work of her bra too until Sarah is laid bare before her. Your admiring gaze roams over Sarah's body, making her shiver with anticipation, you capture one of Sarah's nipples between your lips.

Sarah cries out, arching up into your warm mouth. As you lavishes attention on her breasts, Sarah is reduced to a writhing, moaning mess beneath your ministrations. This is even better than she imagined as she lets you take full control.

You kiss your way down Sarah's trembling body until your mouth replaces your fingers between Sarah's legs. Sarah closes her eyes, crying out your name as a slick tongue explores her slick folds. She reaches down to tangle her fingers in your hair, urgent moans spilling from her lips.

"Y/N, I'm close…" she pants out. The coil of tension winding tighter and tighter within her finally snaps as she comes undone under your tongue.

You take Sarah into your arms. You exchange soft, languid kisses as Sarah catches her breath.

"Wow…" is all Sarah can say, still reeling.

You grin, kissing the tip of her nose. "I'd say we're pretty good at this secret relationship thing so far."

Sarah laughs. "I'd say so too. But we should probably keep practicing, just to be sure." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

You smirk, pulling Sarah in for another deep kiss. "I like the way you think."

Your lips meet again, both of you giddy with the exciting newness of exploring each other. For now, you’re content to stay lost in your little bubble of bliss, putting your troubles aside for a stolen moment of passion and release.

Sarah sighs contentedly, her body still tingling from her intimacy with you. She strokes your hair softly as you lie tangled together on the bed.

After a few peaceful moments, Sarah props herself up on one elbow to look down at you. "Not that I want this to end, but won't your parents be back soon?" she asks.

You glance at the clock on your nightstand and grimaces. "Yeah, probably. As much as I'd love to keep going…" You trail a hand suggestively down Sarah's side.

Sarah shivers at your touch. "Later," she promises with a grin. She gives you one last lingering kiss before reluctantly climbing off the bed to gather her scattered clothes.

As Sarah gets dressed, you sit up and wrap the blanket around yourself. You watch Sarah wistfully, not quite ready to burst this intimate bubble you’ve created. But the approaching sound of a boat motor outside makes the decision for you.

"Coming?" Sarah asks from the bedroom doorway, now fully dressed. Her cheeks are still flushed, lips swollen from kisses.

You sigh. "Yeah, be right there." As Sarah disappears down the hall, you take a moment to collect yourself. You press her fingers to your lips, Sarah's taste still lingering. Your heart flutters thinking about what just transpired between you too.

With a giddy smile, you get up to get dressed. You rejoin Sarah in the living room just as the front door opens and your parents walk in, loaded down with gear from their fishing trip. If they notice your matching blushes and shy glances, they don't say anything.

"Are you staying for dinner, Sarah?" your mom asks as she heads for the kitchen. "I'll throw some fish on the grill."

Sarah catches your eye, an impish look on her face. "I'd love to," she says sweetly. Under the table, she squeezes your hand, your secret.

The you too sat close together on the worn couch in your living room after dinner, shoulders touching. Your parents had retreated outside to the back deck, giving you some privacy. Sarah turned to you, looking into your eyes. She still couldn't believe what had transpired between you too earlier that evening.

"So…that happened," Sarah said with a small smile, cheeks flushing pink.

You nodded, biting your lip. You reached over and gave Sarah's hand a gentle squeeze. "It did. And as crazy as it sounds, it felt…right."

Sarah let out a soft laugh, interlacing your fingers. "I know, I feel the same way! I mean, I never expected this, but being with you just feels so natural."

She glanced down bashfully. "I know things with John B are complicated right now. But he's been pulling away, and you've been there for me. You make me feel safe and happy even during the worst moments."

You lifted Sarah's hand to your lips, kissing it softly. "You deserve to feel safe and happy, Sarah. I'll always be here for you, no matter what happens with John B. And if this-" you gestured between you too "-is something you want to explore, I'm open to it."

Sarah's heart swelled with affection. She leaned in and captured your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss.

"Then let's explore," she murmured against your mouth. You smiled into the kiss, twining your arms around Sarah's neck to pull her closer.

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logansargeantsbabymom · 4 months

Text

Anyone but me

Insecure!Logan x Fem!Reader

warnings: Cursing, Insecure Logan

A/N: Here’s something short, I wasn’t gonna post since today makes 10 years since my grandpa passed but I didn’t wanna make today abt me. Enjoy.

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

instagram

Another race. Miami had been another race this season that has been shit for Logan. Why was something always fucking it up for him?

First they gave him shitty cars, then whenever they did give Logan a somewhat good car, he wasn’t driving it the way he should, then they gave away his car to Alex after he crashed his. Now he had to retire the car because KMag decided to crash into him?

It’s almost lil the universe is against Logan and his time in Formula 1, which might I add is utter bullshit.

Logan hasn’t been the best driver and I knew that, but I didn’t fall in love with him because he’s a formula 1 driver, no, I fell in love with him because he’s always been there for me even when he was going through his own problems and has never once complained about it (him being a famous driver was just a perk).

Logan and I have been together for just over 2 years which means I’ve seen the best and worst of his career, but right now after he got hit at his home race was heart wrenching.

I stood by the tv screens that showed his camera footage live from his car and my hands shot up to my face when I saw the impact of the crash. The crash wasn’t what made my heart shatter for him though, no, instead it was the live radio feed from him to pit that I was currently listening to.

His groans of pain and the tremble in his voice asking if he did anything wrong was what hurt. He was so worried and scared that he fucked up something whilst driving that he didn’t pay attention to whether or not he was hurt.

They replayed that crash maybe a dozen times and each time felt like it stung worse than the previous one before it. I watched as they got the track clear from any debris and brought Logan and the car back to the Williams garage. The look of red eyes and tear stained cheeks was the sight I was greeted with.

I would’ve done anything to take his pain away in that moment. Hell, I would do anything to make sure he never felt pain again. But unfortunately, I can’t. So I had to suffice for the next best thing, comforting him.

I walked over to him and the second he turned and saw me walking over with a somber look on my face he rushed into my arms, pulling me into a tight embrace before absolutely sobbing.

The team around us walked off allowing us a moment of peace while I comforted my boyfriend. His face was in the crook of my neck as he shook with violent sobs and I rubbed my hands up and down his back trying to soothe the ache in his heart.

“Logan you did amazing, it wasn’t your fault. I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far, I love you so much” I whispered in his ear as I kissed the side of his head.

We stayed like this for a moment, as Logan continued to sob I continued to try to soothe him and murmur sweet nothings in his ear with more small kisses on his head.

After a moment or two, I felt Logan pull away before he looked me in my eyes. I could tell he wanted to say something.

“What happened, Baby?” I whisper as I bring my hands up to his face to wipe his tears away

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers, his voice breaking again as he moves my hands from his face

“Lo, don’t” I say, tears of my own springing in my eyes

“No Y/N/N, please. I don’t deserve you. I’m not good enough, you deserve to be with someone who wins and makes podiums. Not me, someone who finishes last or doesn’t finish at all.” by the time Logan was done berating himself, I was the one sobbing.

“Logan Hunter Sargeant. Stop talking like that. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. There was before you, during you, and I never want there to be an after you. I have never loved anyone more than I love you. My heart is so filled with happiness and you’re the reason. You’re the reason I’m still alive today, I have the best life right now and it’s because of you. So please don’t break my heart because you feel like I don’t deserve you, because I never want to live without you. So unless you’re unhappy in our relationship, we are not breaking up. Are you unhappy with us?” Tears were falling like waterfalls from both of our eyes.

“No, I love you too much. I just don’t want you to be with a loser like me” My hands shot up to his face and I made him look at me

“Stop it, I’m not leaving you. I’m staying with you whether you win 100 grand prixs, 1 or none. I’m here until the Lord takes me from this earth. I promise” I said as I placed a sweet and sincere kiss on his lips before we rested our foreheads together

“I’m here always and forever”

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#logan sargeant hurt #logan sargent fluff #logan sargeant angst #logan sergeant imagines #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant #charles leclerc #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris #lewis hamilton

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aaakikoo · 1 year

Text

Low effort scenarios with my favorite fictional man. Bakugou.

an -> low effort is what I do best lmao, I hope you enjoy this. I have alresdy done these with more effort put in them 😭 I’ll list some below.

here and here.

another an -> requests currently open, or if you want to send ideas, thirsts or suggestions feel free to do that too. Comments and rblogs r appreciated!

paring -> k.Bakugou x f!reader

warnings -> language, idk tell me if there is any other.

———

1. NOT SHARING HIS RAMEN WITH YOU

“Babe please just one bite” you said as the blond was slurping on his noodles. “Fuck off, get your own.”

“You made the last pack! I am not heading to the store for a packet of noodles!” You said in defense but he didn’t seem to care as he continued chewing.

“Babe please!” You held him by the shoulders as you whined further. “I said no.” He said taking another bite.

“Fine.” You huffed and sat your ass back down on the couch. after Bakugou had finished slurping and munching on his noodles he came and sat with you on the couch.

At first you didn’t pay him any mind until he made a mistake and placed his arm around your waist.

You quickly slapped his arm away. “I’m mad at you.” You said leaving the living room and heading to your shared bedroom.

On your way you heard him scoff but you didn’t care.

A few minutes later he came in to apologize but it wasn’t successful.

“Why do I have to apologize after eating something I ate, and paid for? Do I have to share everything with you.” He asked in annoyance.

“Well you could’ve gave me one singular bite!” You said in defense and he scoffed and left the room annoyed at your behavior.

About half an hour later he came in, this time you didn’t bother to look at him. He didn’t say anything either, he came in and picked you off of the bed.

“W-what? Hey, what are you doing??” You asked surprised, no answer. “Put me down!” Still no answer.

He walked downstairs and headed to the kitchen placing you on one of the island chairs.

“What are-“ you words were swallowed up as you saw what was in front of you.

“Stop being mad at me now okay?”

He had bought you more noodles, made them for you, cut you fresh vegetables to have with, seasoned it, and put chopsticks on the side for you to eat.

You didn’t replay, only offering him a little hidden smile as you began munching.

The man still sat across from you on the island. “Thank you. Best boyfriend ever.”

“Huge mood swing.”

2. BUYING FOR YOU

It was a Sunday afternoon and you were both chilling on the couch.

Tomorrow was your day off so you were in a good mood, scrolling on whatever expensive brands site, checking out their latest drops and most hottest items.

Also Bakugou told you he will be taking you out after his shift, by 7pm. So you were trying to see if you could make a steal for the date.

Currently, Bakugou’s eyes were glued on the tv and your eyes were glued on your phone.

The guy in the show Bakugou is watching had made a pretty funny joke and Bakugou looked down at you to see if you had catched that.

Instead he finds you eyeing a dark red pair of high pump heels. He saw you like it and add it to your list and he thought that was it.

He continued watching the series like nothing happened and you closed your phone and now focusing on the tv.

The next day you woke up to an empty bed like always when it is your day off, currently 9am and you headed down to make yourself breakfast.

After you had eaten you clean up a bit and chatted with your friends for a little. Until the doorbell rang and there was a mailman, delivering you a package and asking for your autograph.

You had told him that you didn’t purchase anything but he kept on insisting that this was the right address.

You took a look on the address and it was correct then you saw that it was bought with your boyfriends name. So you gave the mailman your autograph.

After you closed and locked your door you took the box into the living room. Wondering what your boyfriend could’ve possibly purchased. He always asks for your opinion before he purchases anything.

Curiosity got the best out of you and you opened the brown box, the box revealing another box inside. A more expensive looking one. Matt black box with golden letters from the expensive brand you were looking at earlier.

You opened the black box, now this time the box revealed a white stretchy bag, you opened the box and your jaw dropped at the sight.

The dark red pumps you were looking at yesterday. Before you could properly make up your thoughts your boyfriend messaged you.

[ wear em today ]

Is all he sent to you, you wondered how he knew that you had gotten them, then you remembered he gets a notification when a package is delivered.

Your heart was filled with warmth.

By 17:30 you started getting ready, quick shower, blowing your hair, picking your outfit. A long black silky dress and gold jewelry everywhere from your ears, wrists to your neck and fingers. Elegant makeup and your hair out up in a golden butterfly claw clip. Along with of course the new heels.

By 18:50 you received a text. Which meant to head outside. And so you did.

When you stepped outside you were met with your boyfriend dressed in black suit pants and a white dress shirt with a dark red tie to match his eyes and your new bought heels.

He greeted you with a hug and a kiss on your temple. “Thank you.” You said and pecked his lips.

“Nothing but the best for you.”

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newobsessionweekly · 4 months

Text

Broken Blue

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: Tim's anger and harsh words drives you apart. Despite his attempts to make things better, your stubbornness wins until an accident forces you to realize you need Tim and love him more than you want to admit.

Angst

Warnings: descriptions of injuries, blood, bruises, bandages, strong language and harsh dialogue, past traumas, insecurities, briefly mention of death, Not Proofread Yet

Requested: No Words: 4k

GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

Tim rested on a bed in the emergency room, his normally composed face now contorted in pain. Blood, sweat, and scratches from the day's chaotic events adorned his rugged features, evidence of the intense encounter with one of the suspects. A momentary lapse in judgment, cost him a trip to the hospital, to nurse a superficial wound and his pride.

He didn't want you to worry, knowing very well hearing the news would distract you from your duties and as a first responder, focus is crucial in your job. He just watched as his phone lights up with two texts from you. Despite the pain throbbing through his body, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a flicker of guilt flashing at his conscience for not responding. But he couldn't bring himself to burden you with his troubles, not when he knew you were busy saving lives of your own.

Y/N❤️ Takeout or homemade dinner? Y/N❤️ You ok?

He shuffled the phone back into his pocket after the doctor finished bandaging his wound. All stitched up and blood free, he sighed heavily, waiting for the nurse to finish her paperwork and release him back on the streets.

"You need anything?" Lucy asked from Tim's side, carefully testing the waters.

"If you can't help the nurse with that damn paperwork, then no."

Tim was beyond angry and his grumpiness reached a level neither of them had ever witnessed. The fact that he had let a suspect slip through his fingers while he grappled with another man ate away at him. Failure was not an option, especially not for Tim.

Lucy hesitated for a moment before tentatively broaching the subject, "Should I call Y/N? I mean, if you don't want to tell her yourself, I can do that. She should know."

Tim's jaw tightened at the mention of your name, " Absolutely not." he replied firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I don't want her to worry."

The clock on the wall ticks away the seconds, each one feeling like an eternity as you anxiously check your phone for any sign of a response from Tim. But as the minutes stretch into hours, your worry only grows, gnawing at the edges of your mind like a persistent itch.

You try to push aside your concerns, telling yourself that Tim is probably just caught up with work. After all, Lucy or Sergeant Grey would've called you immediately if something serious had happened, right? But despite your attempts to rationalize his silence, you can't shake the feeling that something isn't right.

Kojo senses your unease and nuzzles closer, his warm fur a comforting presence against your skin. You bury your face in his soft fur, seeking solace in his silent companionship as you absently watch your favorite TV show.

You glanced at your phone for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, but the screen remained stubbornly blank. A pang of concern tightened in your chest as you checked the time, noting that it wouldn't be long until Tim returned from his shift.

You replayed your texts and the morning conversation with Tim in your mind, wondering if you had said something wrong or if he was upset with you for some reason. But deep down, you knew that wasn't the case.

The sound of keys clicking in the lock jolted you from your thoughts, and both you and Kojo jumped up from the couch, eager to greet Tim as he returned home. But as you caught sight of his face, your excitement turned to shock and concern.

His handsome face was now stained with angry red, purple, and blue bruises, the evidence of a day gone wrong. Kojo bounded over to him, tail wagging enthusiastically, but you remained rooted to the spot, unable to tear your eyes away from Tim's battered face.

"Babe, what happened? Are you okay?" you asked, trembling with worry as you took in his appearance.

"I'm fine. Just a little scratch," Tim replied dismissively, his tone harsh as he attempted to downplay the severity of the situation.

But when he knelt down to pet Kojo, you couldn't help but notice the slight wince of pain that crossed his face, and your heart clenched with concern. You caught a glimpse of the bandage peeking out from under his shirt, and horror washed over you as you realized the extent of his injuries.

"You're not fine. You're hurt," you insisted, concerned as you took a step closer to him.

But before you could reach out to examine his wounds, Tim's attitude shifted, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

"I said I'm fine. Please, Y/N. I've had a long day," he snapped, his words sharp and cutting.

You recoiled slightly at his coldness, hurt flashing in your eyes as you tried to reach out to him again.

"Let me take a look," you pleaded, softer this time.

But Tim pushed you away, rejecting your attempts to help. "I don't need to be babied. I can take care of myself. I went to the hospital, everything is okay," he insisted, his tone final as he shut you out.

Tim's anger simmered beneath the surface, tension radiating from his rigid posture and the sharp edge to his words. Each syllable was punctuated by a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, his frustration palpable in the way he paced back and forth across the room.

"I just want to help you, be there for you," you pleaded, desperate as you tried to bridge the growing void between you and Tim.

But he backfired at your words, his expression hardening as he turned to face you, his movements sharp and jerky.

"You know what, Y/N? Maybe you're right. Maybe I do need help. But not from you. You're just like everyone else, trying to fix me, trying to change me into something I'm not."

The venom in his voice cut through the air like a knife, leaving you shaken by the force of his words.

"Tim, that's not fair," you protested, your voice trembling with hurt. "I'm not trying to change you. I just want to help you."

But Tim's anger only seemed to swell with each passing moment, his frustration boiling over as he lashed out at you once more. "Help me? You think you can help me?" he spat, his words dripping with disdain. "You don't know the first thing about me, Y/N. You don't know what I've been through, what I've seen."

Your heart ached at the bitterness in his tone, the pain in his eyes mirroring your own. "I may not know everything about your past, Tim, but I know you," you insisted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know the man you are, the man I fell in love with."

But Tim's laughter rang hollow in the room, his expression twisted with self-loathing as he dismissed your words with a bitter scoff. "Fell in love with?" he sneered, his movements sharp and erratic. "You don't love me, Y/N. You love the idea of me, the idea of some perfect boyfriend who's always there for you, always has the right thing to say."

As he turned away from you, his shoulders hunched with the weight of his own insecurities, you felt the distance between you widen with each passing moment.

"You're just like everyone else, expecting me to be someone I'm not," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "Well, newsflash, Y/N. I'm not perfect. I'm broken, and I always will be."

With a final, agonized glance in your direction, Tim retreated to the sanctuary of his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking himself away from the world.

Tears cascaded down your cheeks, you felt the weight of Tim's harsh words bearing down on you like a crushing weight. You tried to push aside the pain, but you couldn't stop the them from spilling over. With trembling hands, you wiped the tears away, your body trembling as you struggled to make sense of it all.

It felt like a dagger to your heart, shattering the illusion of the love you thought you shared. You knew that it was time to leave, to give Tim the space he so desperately seemed to need.

Gathering your belongings, the weight of Tim's rejection pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket, you couldn't help but question everything you thought you knew about your relationship. Did he ever truly love you, or was it all just a facade?

As you made your way to the door, the weight of your decision pressed down on you like a ton of bricks. But you knew it was the right thing to do. Tim needed space, time to process his emotions and come to terms with the trauma that haunted him. And as much as it pained you to leave him behind, you knew that staying would only make things worse.

Behind the closed door, Tim laid on his bed, consumed by the weight of his own traumas and the burden of today's shift. Regret gnawed at him, a bitter taste in his mouth as he replayed his words to you over and over again in his mind. He knew he had crossed a line, said things he didn't mean, but it was too late to take them back now.

But try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at his soul, the knowledge that he had pushed you away with his rage and irritation when he needed you the most.

Closing his eyes, he let out a heavy sigh. He wished he could go back, erase the hurtful words that had spilled from his lips in a moment of weakness. But he knew that was impossible. All he could do now was wait, wait until he was sure that his anger and frustration had subsided enough to face you again.

And so, he lay in bed, the minutes ticking by like hours as he wrestled with his demons. But deep down, he knew that no amount of time would erase the pain he had caused you.

Tim's excitement was palpable as he approached your doorstep, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Tonight has to be special, a chance for the two of you to spend some quality time together away from the chaos of everyday life.

He knocked lightly on the door, eager to see your face light up with delight as you welcomed him inside. But as the moments ticked by without a response, a sense of unease began to gnaw at him.

Pushing open the door, he stepped into your apartment, the familiar surroundings bathed in a soft glow that seemed to washout his excitement. The sight that greeted him sent a chill down his spine, freezing him in his tracks.

There you were, lying on the floor, your body still and unmoving, a pool of blood spreading out beneath you like a macabre halo. Panic surged through him as he rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he tried to stop the flow of blood.

But it was too late. Your eyes stared blankly into the void, empty, and Tim felt his heart shatter into a million irreparable pieces. "No," he whispered, his voice cracking as he held you close.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pressed kisses to your forehead, his mind stumbling with the weight of his loss. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice choked with regret. "I should have been here sooner."

But there was no response, only the cold silence of death that surrounded him like a heavy cloak. And as he held you close, his tears mingling with the crimson pool that stained the floor.

Tim's heart pounded in his chest as he jolted awake from the nightmare, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to shake off the lingering clasps of the dream. Frantically, he reached out for you, his hand searching desperately for the warmth of your body beside him, but all he found was empty space, cold and drained of the warmth he craved.

Panic surged through him, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts and fears. "Y/N?" he called out as he scanned the room for any sign of you. But the only response was the terrifying silence that filled the air, mocking him with its emptiness.

He stumbled out of bed, his movements clumsy as he made his way to the living room. "Please, Y/N, come back to bed," he pleaded, his voice echoing in the empty space.

But you were nowhere to be found, and as he searched every nook and cranny of his house, his anxiety only grew. "Kojo, where's Y/N?" he asked, the dog whimpering in response, adding to Tim's sense of unease.

Days dragged on with agonizing slowness for both you and Tim as he waited for any sign of a response. His phone remained stubbornly silent, your absence a constant ache in his chest that refused to fade. He sent text after text, each one filled with apologies and pleas, but you remained radio silent, a painful reminder of the rift that had grown between you.

Desperate to bridge the gap, Tim even mustered the courage to go to your place, but his hopes were crushed when you refused to answer the door. The rejection hurt like a slap in the face, leaving him feeling more lost and alone than ever before.

You found yourself seeking solace in the company of a familiar face and fellow firefighter: Bailey. As you poured out your heart to her, she listened with sympathetic understanding, offering gentle words of wisdom and advice.

"Maybe it's time to give Tim a chance to explain himself, to apologize," Bailey suggested gently.

But you remained stubborn, unwilling to entertain the thought of reconciliation until you had had time to process your own hurt and anger.

"I can't," you insisted, your voice thick with emotion. "Not after what he said to me."

But Bailey wasn't ready to give up on you just yet. "What if you met him at our place, with John and me there to... mediate?" she suggested, her tone hopeful. "It could be a chance for both of you to talk things out, to find some common ground."

But you weren't ready to entertain the idea, your heart still raw with pain and betrayal. "I appreciate the offer, Bailey, I really do," you said softly, "but I'm not ready to face him yet."

Tim sought solace in the familiar surroundings of the station, his footsteps heavy as he made his way to John. "Hey, Nolan," he said, his voice. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about Y/N, would you? Did Bailey mention something...?"

But John shook his head, his expression guarded. "It's not my place to say," he replied, his gaze fixed on Tim with a mix of sympathy and concern. "But I can tell you this much: she's hurting, Tim. More than you know."

Tim's heart clenched at the thought of your pain, his guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders. "Okay... what should I do?"

John offered him a sympathetic smile. "Give her some time, Tim," he advised. "And when she's ready, be there for her. I have a feeling she'll come around eventually."

Tim's phone rang unexpectedly, breaking the silence that hung heavy in the air. His heart skipped a beat as he glanced at the caller ID, his fingers fumbling to answer the call. "Y/N?" he breathed, relief flooding through him at the sound of your voice.

"Tim, uh. Sorry to bother you so late, but…" your voice came through the line, strained and weak, and Tim's heart clenched at the sound. "Can you… pick me up from John's? Please."

The urgency in your tone sent a shiver down Tim's spine, his mind racing with a thousand possibilities. "Of course, baby. On my way," he replied without hesitation, his heart pounding in his chest as he scrambled to grab his keys and jacket.

You’ve been crashing on John’s couch for the past few days after one call turned unexpectedly bad. Gladly, no one else was hurt, but Bailey couldn’t just let you go back into your empty place. She insisted keeping you close to them, checking on you, after you stubbornly refused to call Tim. But you’ve had enough. Not seeing the man you loved from the bottom of your heart, not feeling his touch, not having him close when you need him the most. So, you mustered all your courage and broke the silent vow to pay Tim back in his own coin.

When John answered, Tim barely spared him a glance, his focus entirely on you. Relief flooded through him at the sight of the woman he loved, barely in one piece, but alive, and it was quickly overshadowed by the magnitude of your injuries. You looked so small and fragile, curled up on John's couch, your body covered in bruises and bandages, but still beautiful in his eyes.

Rushing to your side, he gently gathered you into his arms, careful not to worsen your pain. "What happened?" he asked softly, his voice laced with worry.

As he gathered you into his arms, his touch gentle yet firm, you felt a wave of emotions wash over you. Relief, gratitude, and love mingled with the pain and exhaustion that weighed heavily on your body. The warmth of his touch was a balm to your battered body, easing the ache that seemed to permeate every fiber of your being.

You recounted the events of the past few days, your voice trembling as you described the accident. Each word hurt, the pain of seeing you in such a state almost too much to bear. Tim's heart clenched at the thought of you suffering alone, and he cursed himself for not being there when you needed him most.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he scolded gently, a a surge of protectiveness washing over him.

But your eyes flashed with defiance, and you bristled at his words. "You're not exactly in a position to scold me for that, Tim," you shot back, your tone tinged with frustration. "You did the same thing."

"Is this some kind of revenge?" Tim asked.

You scoffed at the suggestion. "No, Tim, it's not revenge," you snapped, your patience wearing thin.

But as Tim furrowed his brows at you — something he often does when he’s not buying your words — your resolve began to waver. "Okay, fine, maybe at first it was about revenge," you admitted. "But I can't do this anymore, Tim. I need you even though I'm still upset."

Tim pulled you closer as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm here now, babe," he whispered lovingly. "I've got you."

As you buried your face in his chest, the weight of his words washing over you like a soothing balm. "How did you that“ you asked, “How did you manage to get through being shot all by yourself?"

Tim's embrace tightened around you, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. "I needed you so much, Y/N," he admitted, "I tried to reach you, to explain everything. Tell you I didn't mean a single word I said."

But before he could say more, you stopped him with a gentle shake of your head. "But I left you..." you whispered.

Tim's expression softened, his gaze locking with yours. "I don't blame you for that," he said softly, his voice filled with love and understanding. "I would've done the same thing if I were you."

You couldn't help but let out a small giggle at his words, a sense of relief washing over you like a wave. "I guess we're even?" you teased, batting your eyelashes playfully at him.

Tim chuckled at your words, his heart swelling with love for you. "You're such a kid," he joked, "But I love that about you. And I love you."

As John and Bailey watched the exchange with amused smiles, John cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "Alright, lovebirds," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "As much as I've enjoyed your presence, Y/N, it's time to get off my couch."

Tim grinned at you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Let's go home."

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bluerthanvelvet444 · 6 months

Text

ᯓ★⋆˚🅰🅿🆁🅸🅲🅸🆃🆈⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

(Peter Maximoff x fem!reader)

tags: smut with plot and a bit of fluff in the end.

warnings: subby!Peter, restraints, handjob, fingering, riding, p in v, denied orgasm, praise, mentions of abuse, mentions of alcohol, mentions of fight, swearing.

summary: Peter gets captured by the villains. This fic takes place after x-men apocalypse and before x-men dark phoenix.

character count: 19k.

full fic under the cut ↓

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Memoir. What’s its provenance? What is it?

According to scientists, memories are “formed as a result of connections between neurons in the brain”. The poet Sylvia Plath, instead, “sardonically embraced the most horrific and vulgar fragments from the storehouse of collective memory”. The great philosopher Aristotle believed that “memory is like a writing that remains etched in wax, and whose inscriptions remain more or less durable”.

Although you continually researched and seeked in books for the perfect depiction, you weren’t able to find anything that could comply with your personal belief. You were staunch that memories are, in fact, the mirror of our being. Disgraceful memories, glorious ones…they’re both needed to construct the way we act, the way we think, and the way we are. You had always been involved in memoir personally, because of your quirk. You had the marvelous capacity of intruding into one’s memories. You couldn’t directly change or interact with them, instead, you could see, reproduce, assimilate and mimic them. Phenomenal, isn’t it? You may think it is but, your biggest gift to you was, in fact, your biggest ruin. Your life started its downgrade the exact moment you found out about it. You remembered it all.

You were standing small in front of your mother, who had either fallen asleep or passed out. The bottle of cheap tequila in her hands made both answers valid. You were just a kid but you knew it wasn’t easy. Your father had left when you were just a fetus in your mother’s womb. Since then, she had never been the same. All the bills, the rent, expenses were on her. Her job exhausted her and the little time she had left, she spent drowning her worries in alcohol. She didn’t need any more problems, so you never told her about that awkward energy growing inside of you. That particular day you felt it bigger than ever, the need to find out what it led to even stronger. So you put your tiny fingers on her temples, as the little voice in your head told you to, and you started seeing. All of your mother's life was flashing in front of your eyes quickly. You stopped at one particular memory, you inspected it. Your mother stood pregnant in front of a man that kept yelling at her. You put the pieces of the puzzles together. It was clear, and the new knowledge of the situation triggered something inside of you, inside of your power. You kept replaying and replaying the scene, tears in your eyes, as the man’s words dissolved from the memory and came directly out of your mouth. That woke your mother up, she was holding her head as the same image kept banging in her mind, and as the man’s voice spit those known words harshly from your little mouth. She yelled for you to stop, and you lowkey wish you never did. As soon as you stopped, she grabbed you and threw you inside of-what you playfully called-the dark room, your basement.

“I-I’m sorry…I can’t-you’re him…I-I see him-” Her words came out broken from her mouth, her sobs stopping her mid-sentence as she locked you inside.

That became a habit since then. You grew up in the “dark room”, hardly ever going outside if not to eat and respond to natural calls. Your main activity was watching TV and day-dreaming about the outside world. You knew it was better than what you were living, it had to be. Especially because you found out that you weren’t crazy or evil but that you simply belonged to a different species. They called them mutants.And apparently, there was a school for kids just like you, the interviews of the famous Charles Xavier were the ones you liked watching the most on TV. As the years went by, your urge to run away grew more and more, and so you did. One day in the early 70s, you grabbed all of your things and left, taking advantage of your mom’s blackout. You took different taxis and avoided the questions about your young age, and you were finally standing in front of Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Although, it seemed different from what you saw on TV: it looked abandoned, the plate with the name on it rusty and absentmindedly resting on the ground, and the gates closed. You tried peeking inside, before being startled by an unfamiliar voice behind you.

“Don’t waste your time. They can’t help you anymore, but we can.”

This is how you found yourself with a group of mutants who had the exact same hopes you had, before they were broken by the closure of the school. You were guided by The Captain-that is how he wanted to be called-that was trying to create a new safe place for young mutants. And his plan seemed to work, kid mutants were actually starting to come…before Xavier’s school opened again. At this point, your group desperately found itself in front of the school’s gate again. You were dismissed,though, by a blue beast mutant.

“We’re sorry, the school only accepts young kids between 5 and 17-” He told you before turning his back.

“You can try and talk to Charles though, I’m sure he will find some space for y-'' He stopped seeing you had all left.

This is why The Captain’s plan was ever created in the first place. He believed that Charles Xavier was a man only drawn by his personal needs, and that he only used the young mutants to gain popularity and be idolized by the US government.

“This is why we were rejected. Our powers aren’t conventionally pleasing. No human kid would ever desire our powers. So if he believes our gifts can’t be used for good, we won’t use them for good.” He spoke firmly to you all.

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Your flow of memories was interrupted by The Captain.

“We’ve captured one. You will watch him while we take care of the others. Do your thing on him and find out his weakness.” He spoke with a deep voice.

You nodded and began making your way downstairs before he gripped your wrist.

“Don’t disappoint me, Y/N.” You felt his piercing gaze in your eyes.

“I won’t.” You gulped and quickly left the room.

When you opened the door you scanned your surroundings. The room was all white, with petty furniture. No windows, a table, a chair, a small closet, and a bed which had a figure laying down on it. You inched closer and scanned the boy. His eyes closed, he was probably knocked out, a few bruises on his skin, his hands and legs restrained by the strong collars around them… he looked your age, his hair was silver with some goggles resting on them. He had a pleasant face to look at, if the circumstances had been different you could’ve even admitted that he was pretty attractive. He was wearing a black protective suit, probably X-men’s equipment, you guessed. The more you observed him, the more you were confused. You expected them to capture the great Mystique, the glorious Magneto…not a newbie. You sighed and started walking towards the desk, ramaging in your bag for a sleeping pill so that you could do your magic without being interrupted.

Peter slowly opened his eyes, he could feel his body sore from the previous fight. He started to panic as he didn’t recognize his surroundings. He tilted his head forwards, noticing the person standing in front of the desk.

“H-hey…! Ppsttttt…Lady! Yes! You! Lady!” You heard his desperate calls.

You walked towards him and stopped at the side of the bed.

“Hi! So there’s a bunch of bad people who captured me and probably want to beat my ass-” You stopped him mid-sentence.

“I know.” You replied with a monotone voice.

“You-you know?! Don’t tell me you’re one of ‘em- oh shit! You’re one of ‘em! C’mon you have to be kiddin’ me…you’re too pretty to be mean! Hey! C’mon help me!” He rushed, his hands and legs squirming at high speeds against the restraints. You didn’t budge at his compliment, instead, you were focused on his movements.

“A speedster, huh.” You mumbled.

“A speed…A speedster?! Babe I'm not a speedster- I’m the speedster! Quicksilver! Peter Maximoff! The one and only!” He replied cockily, almost as if he was offended by your lack of knowledge. You raised your eyebrow, clearly having no clue of who he was.

“Aah babe you’ve got to be kiddin’ me! I’m Quicksilver! The one who beated Apocalypse’s ass! I did it all myself heh- I’m basically a hero, everyone loves me. Don’t ya watch TV or what?” Even though you had no idea who this guy was and what he did to be part of the X-men, you could sense the exaggeration in his words.

“I prefer books.” You shrugged before turning your back and making your way to the desk again.

“Hey! Hey! Where ya goin’?! Are ya a mutant too? Hey, yer not gonna hurt me aren’t ya?! What’s your power? C’mon tell me…What’s your power? Whaddaya do?!”

You rolled your eyes as his continuous questions started to annoy you.

“Will you shut up and let me do what I need to do?!” You snapped while holding between your thumb and index the sleeping pill. His pupils dilated.

“Whoa-whoa…let’s chill down a bit, yea? No need to use that, babe. Ya just gotta ask and I'll do whatever you want me to do.” He said with a smirk forming on his face. You sighed.

“Close your eyes and stay still.” You began pressing your fingers against his temples.

“...Will it hurt?” He said with a nervous smile, big brown eyes looking up at you.

“It doesn’t have to.”

Just like that you were thrown into Peter’s memories. You saw his child self, his mom, his sister…his first time using his powers…Magneto…many memories about Magneto, weird. You decided to dig a little deeper. You replayed the memory where he found out that…

“Magneto is your father?!” You exclaimed, visibly surprised.

“Hehe, I guess…so that’s your power?” He said with a tiny chuckle.

You kept thinking about what you just saw. You never saw a direct contact between Peter and Magneto, so you supposed he didn’t know about his son. That could’ve easily been used against him, you had to tell The Captain. You walked towards the table and gathered your bag.

“That’s a cool power…I’ve never heard ‘bout it. Actually, I’ve never heard ‘bout ya either…do ya have a supervillain name? Why didn’t ya fight with the others?” The words fell rapidly out of his lips. You gulped.

“Just Y/N. I don’t fight with the others. My powers weren’t made for physical combat.” That’s true, they hardly ever let you come with them on missions. You were useless for superheroes as much as you were for supervillains.

“Pffffttt…that’s bullshit! Ya can do those cool things with yer mind! Ya totally have to meet Charles, he’s gott-”

“Charles? Charles’s a selfish man who puts his needs first. I don’t want anything from him.” You scoffed.

“Wha-what? Are ya out of yer mind? Have ya ever even met Charles? He’s the coolest. I was literally a loser who lived in his mom’s basement before meeting him. Always been cool though.” His words made your blood boil, hearing that he didn’t hesitate to help him but discarded you immediately. You told Peter your story, how you truly believed Charles was gonna save you but ended up breaking your inner child’s heart. Your eyes started to water as memories flooded in front of your eyes.

“Hey-I-I’m sorry that happened to ya but- hey- if I get outta here alive, I promise I will take you to the school. The professor will help ya, he always does.” You looked at him, a tiny glimmer of hope appearing in your eyes even though you knew that you couldn’t leave.

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You spent all your day talking to him. He was funny, you had to admit. The nicest company you had ever had. He told you about his family, how he joined the X-men, everything. And before you knew it, the night came.

“Oh uhm. You should get some sleep, you’re probably exhausted.” You said while getting up, ready to leave.

“Wait- uhhh…I can’t really sleep with this armor thingy on. It’s uncomfy.” He complained.

“Oh. Right, I can bring you some clothes. But I…can’t untie you. It’s the rules.” You shrugged.

“No need to. I usually sleep naked.” He winked at you.

“...” You contorted your face, not really knowing how to respond.

“HA! Gotcha. Just kidding. I sleep in my boxers.” He said with a proud grin on his lips.

“...I’ll bring you clothes.” You said before being interrupted again.

“No! Seriously, I just need to take my clothes off.”

You raised your eyebrow.

“...Not because I’m a creep. Simply because my speed speeds my body’s functions, and by speeding it highs my temperature so I get hot.” He spoke as if it was obvious.

“...Right.” You sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

“How does this thing open?”

“W-whoa whoa…you-are you gonn- wait-” He stuttered as his cheeks slightly reddened.

“You said you wanted your clothes off, and I’m not gonna risk getting scolded by The Captain by freeing you.” You sighed. He gulped and pointed where his zipper was.

C’mon Peter…ya can do this, buddy. Ya just need to focus, yea? Don’t let a fine chick undressing ya speed yer speedy hormones, mh? Peter thought to himself. Your hands gripped the zipper and started pulling it down. Stay focused soldier. His broad chest was revealed as you slowly undressed him. You stopped at his abs to hop on the bed and take his shoes off. As you leaned to pull his boots, your arm slightly brushed his crotch. Holy fucking mother of all the fucking mutants, fuck. She barely touched ya and yer already growing hard, Peter? Must be tha speedy genes, yea, has to be. Totally not has nothing to do with ya being a virgin in your 20s. Nuh-uh. Goddamn you, Peter!

You threw his shoes on the floor, and started pulling his suit down again. You let your gaze linger as he was half-naked in front of you. He was wearing boxers with lightning bolts on them, a tiny chuckle escaped your mouth at that.

“Someone’s excited.” You said with a playful grin on your lips as you pointed at the prominent bulge in his boxers.

“Hey! Not my fault ya got all handsy- how did ya expect me to react?” He said with a tiny blush on his cheeks, he was so cute.

“...And it’s the speedster genes, by tha way. They call me Quickie for a reason.” He replied, annoyed because of how embarrassed he got.

“Do you need help?” You suggested. It may have been wrong, since you were “enemies” and you barely knew each other but…when are you gonna have another cute speedster all for you again?

“DoIneedawhat-” He blurted out, not believing what he just heard.

Your lips curled up in a smirk, and before he could process anything, your fingers grazed his crotch through his underwear.

“Oh- fuck- yea…yes-” He moaned, you giggled.

“So eager, mh?” You teased him by pulling his waistband up and then leaving it smack against his skin. He groaned and nodded, he was so worked up by nothing. You undressed him of his boxers too, his shaft springing free against his stomach, leaving him naked on the bed. His hips bucked up in search of friction. You grinned and gently took his dick in your hand, slowly pumping it.

“Aaah…f-f-yes…please…faster…” He whined.

You giggled and leaned in to kiss his lips gently, muffling his pleas. You started speeding your movements, and he deepened the kiss as his moans rolled off his tongue. As you made out, you could hear the sound of his hands desperately squirming against the restraints.

“Please…let me touch you…” He whimpered, big puppy eyes gazing up at you.

“Mh…sorry, can’t do, baby. It’s the rules.” You smirked and leaned in to peck his lips again. You stopped and sat up to pull off your shirt. He groaned at the sight. You took him in your hands again and fasted your pace even more.

“O-oh..f-fuck...gonna…gonna cum babe…c-cant hold it in…ahh..” You giggled and sped up even more, your mouth working hungrily against his, eating up his moans. He came with a loud groan, muffled by your lips. He kept whining after that.

“Pleasepleaseplease…wanna please ya too…lemme…I’m good at it- I promise…I’m basically a human vibrator-long lasting rose toy- please…” You giggled and nodded, pecking his lips. You took off your pants, before untying one of his hands. He groaned and immediately pulled you closer, his hand making its way under your panties. He suppressed a moan by biting his lip as he felt your slick with his fingers. He gently started circling your clit, and after he heard a few moans of confirmation from you, he began buzzing his fingers against it.

“Ooh…f-fuck…just like that, baby, don’t stop…” You moaned, he answered with a cute whine. He looked up at you, his middle finger gently pushing at your entrance, not fully sliding in. You nodded and bit your lip to suppress any more unholy sound coming out of you as his fingers started to fuck you slowly.

“F-fuck…” You threw your head back. He was gazing up at you with parted lips, as if he had never seen something so breathtaking. He kept picking up the pace, until you stopped his wrist and tied it up again.

“Wha-Wait-Why..? Y-you didn’t like it?” He said with his silver brows furrowed, he was lost and scared of what your answer could’ve been.

“Oh, it was fucking awesome, baby. But I wanna use something else to come, yea? Will you let me do that?” You said in a cooing voice, clearly driving his mind crazy.

“Mhm…yesplease…” He nodded, his gaze not daring to leave your body.

You undid your bra, his eyes widening, and straddled his hips. Your entrance just above his cock. He groaned at the sight, his shaft fully hardening again. You smiled and slowly sinked in, until your hips met his.

“Aaah…w-warm…so warm n’tight…mppph…” He moaned loudly.

You grinned and started slowly sliding your hips up and down repeatedly, reaching a stable pace. You moaned as you started speeding up, yet it wasn’t enough to satisfy you fully.

“Mhh…baby…mind helping me a little?” You said looking down at him.

He moaned and nodded. He started superspeeding his hips to meet yours as you bounced on his cock. The new sensation making you moan loudly.

“Ohhh! Fuck! Just like that, baby…such a good boy…” You groaned as you felt yourself closer. He let out a tiny whimper as he heard your praise and kept speeding up, his wrists and legs straining against the collars, forming tiny red lines.

“Fuckfuckfuck…can i cum? P-please-ah…?” He whined.

“Mhhh...not yet- baby…let me finish first…” You smirked.

He groaned and sped up even more, trying desperately to bring you to the edge. He hissed as he felt that knot in his stomach urging to snap. It didn’t take much for you to come undone. You cried out as you were still jumping up and down at lightning speed. As soon as he felt you clenching around him, he moaned loudly, as he was just about to cum. You quickly pulled him out of you and allowed him to spatter his fluid on your body. He panted heavily, droplets of sweat sinking from his forehead to the mattress. You waited a few moments before grabbing a towel and cleaning you both. You laid down on the bed with him, moving his head on your chest as you ran your fingers in his silver locks, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

“You're my apricity.” You said while caressing his hair and pecking his temple. His eyes were closed, and he was clearly drifting off to sleep.

“Mh?” He mumbled, not moving one single part of his body, still restrained.

“Apricity. I read that in a book.” You chuckled.

“In simpler words?” He mumbled.

“The warmth of the sun in winter.”

“In even simpler words?” He muttered, his voice coming muffled by your chest.

“My life is the winter, you are the warmth.” You admitted. He didn't answer to that. You weren't sure if he actually understood the concept or even just your words, but one thing you were a hundred percent sure of.

He fell asleep smiling.

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taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @angeldollw @marchsfreakshow @newwavesylviaplath @happy74827 @evpeters87

a/n: raaaahh!!! I'm honestly so proud of this, the fic came out just like i imagined. Anyways, hope you like it, love you all🤍🤍

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