#sorry for bringing this back up when everyone else has moved on lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lupinqs · 13 days

Text

CHAPTER THREE ━━ Falling out of Focus

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

☆ ━ word count: 4.5K

☆ ━ warnings: use of homophobic slur, underage drinking, smoking i think, tiny fist fight lol, more angst

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

☆ ━ author’s note: so sorry i did not proof read this and it’s so dialogue heavy but here it is anyways and drama period

IF NOTHING can comfort Paige Bueckers, it’s usually a basketball court that she needs. It’s the place where she’s found solace nearly her whole life, at this point. The steady rhythm of the dribbling, the weight of the ball in her hands, the way her body moves practically on instinct with it now—all of it is usually enough to drown out the noise of the world. Apparently, not today. She feels like she’s playing in someone else’s body, like everything with her game is off. None of her shots fall, she turns the ball more than she assists, and, when, she shoots once more and the ball hits the rim, bouncing off again, she feels like she’s going to lose it.

Coach Cosgriff seems to feel the same way. “Paige! Come on!” his voice cuts, sharp and direct. Paige blinks, shaking her head a little to clear it, before getting back into the drill.

“Sorry, Coach,” she mumbles, forcing her feet to move. But it’s almost like neither her heart or head are in. The ball feels heavy, unwieldy, like it isn’t made for her hands anymore. She passes it to Taylor, who shoots her a worried look before continuing the play.

Paige can feel the eyes of her teammates on her, each glance a tiny needle pricking her skin. Normally, she’d thrive under the attention, but today, it’s suffocating. She feels like she’s spiraling, and she has no idea how to stop it. It isn’t just about basketball; it’s about fucking everything.

“Let’s run it again!” Coach calls, and Paige tries to push all thoughts that aren’t basketball out of her mind. But the harder she tries, the more insistent her brain becomes.

They run through the drill again, and—again—Paige finds herself a step behind. She’s supposed to cut to the basket, but her feet move too slowly, like they’re stuck in mud. Amaya passes her the ball, but Paige isn’t ready, and it slips through her fingers, skidding across the floor.

“Damnit,” Paige curses under her breath, running after it. She can feel her teammates’ frustration, their confusion, and she hates herself for being the cause of it.

“Paige, you good?” Maya asks as they pause for a water break. She’s careful not to sound accusatory, but Paige can hear the concern in her voice. “You’re not yourself today.”

“I’m fine,” Paige snaps, harsher than she intended. Maya blinks, taken aback, and Paige immediately feels guilty. “I’m just… off. It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” KK chimes in, wiping sweat from her forehead. “You can talk to us, you know.”

Paige forces a smile, but it feels all wrong on her face. “I’m good. Just needa get my head straight.”

The words feel empty even as she says them. How can she explain to her teammates without sounding pathetic and stupid that she’s acting this way over a girl? Obviously, it’s not just any girl—it’s Dani. But still. A girl is getting in the way of Paige and basketball and it’s frustrating her so fucking much. She hates it. She hates all of it. She hates that every time she closes her eyes, all she sees is Dani slipping further away from her, replaced by Beau Hudson’s smug, indifferent face?

“Alright, everyone, bring it in,” Coach Cosgriff calls, ending the break. “Let’s focus up and finish strong.”

Paige nods, but her focus is long gone. The rest of practice is a blur of missed shots, half-hearted passes, and growing frustration. When it finally ends, Paige doesn’t stick around to talk to anyone. She grabs her bag, mumbling something about having to study, and heads straight for the locker room.

In the quiet of the locker room, Paige finally allows herself to collapse on the bench. She buries her face in her hands, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. She refuses to let them fall. Crying won’t change anything; it won’t bring Dani back to her, and it sure as hell won’t fix the gaping hole that seems to be growing in her chest.

Paige decides she needs a distraction. Something, anything, to take her mind off Dani, off the way everything’s falling apart.

—SO, a few days later, when Jalen texts Paige about a party, she doesn’t hesitate. She needs noise, people, a chance to drown out the thoughts that have cut off all her access to oxygen.

Paige can feel the bass of the music vibrating through the floorboards the moment she enters the house. The air is thick with the smell of cheap beer, sweat, and the faint tang of weed lingering in the background. The place is packed—people spilling out into the backyard, others dancing in the living room, and even more just milling about with red solo cups in hand. It’s exactly what Paige needs—or, at least that’s what she tells herself.

Jalen and Thaliah walk in beside her, ready for a much-needed night out. Jalen has a grin plastered across his face, greeting people as they walk in, while Thaliah is more laid-back, scanning the crowd for familiar faces as she takes a hit from the pen in her hand. Paige, on the other hand, feels almost like she’s moving through fog—like the world is a few seconds behind her. But that’s the point of tonight, anyways. To blur the edges. To numb the ache that’s been gnawing at her ever since Dani pushed her away.

“Yo, you good, P?” Jalen’s voice cuts through her thoughts, his hand landing on her shoulder as they push their way toward the kitchen. He gives her a once-over, expression tinged with concern. “You don’t look like you’re feelin’ this.”

Paige forces a smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “‘M fine,” she lies, grabbing a solo cup from the counter. “Just need a drink.”

Thaliah, pen still in hand, raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything, though there’s a look exchanged between her and Jalen. Paige ignores it. She isn’t in the mood for questions, for concern. She just wants to forget. Wants to drown out the constant loop of thoughts running through her head—Dani with Beau, Dani avoiding her, Dani blocking her out. It all swirls in her chest, a storm she hasn’t been able to control for weeks now.

With that thought, Paige downs her first drink in one long gulp, barely wincing at the sharp taste of Vodka and God-knows-what mixed into it. The burn isn’t enough. She needs more.

Within the next hour, Paige makes her way through three more cups of whatever mix of alcohol they’re serving, the edge of her thoughts blurring with each one, head starting to swim pleasantly, the fog that she’s been chasing slowly starting to catch up to her. Jalen and Thaliah drink too, but not with the same reckless abandon. Even they have their limits, knowing when to pace themselves.

But Paige? She doesn’t quite care about limits tonight.

“Bro, slow down,” Thaliah says, eyeing Paige warily as she reaches for yet another cup. “We’re supposed to be having fun, not getting wasted in the first hour.”

Paige rolls her eyes, ignoring the warning. “I am having fun,” she shoots back, though even to her own ears, her voice sounds a little too sharp, a little too defensive. She takes another long sip from the cup, the world around her beginning to tilt slightly. It’s like floating—like nothing can touch her, and that’s exactly what she wants. No feelings. No thoughts. Just nothing.

Jalen watches her, his buzzed and carefree smile faltering as he nudges Thaliah. “Hey, maybe we should—”

“I’m fine!” Paige cuts in, louder than she means to. Her hand tightens around the cup as she glances at them both, the alcohol making her words slur slightly. “I’m fine, okay? I don’t need a babysitter. God.”

She turns away from them, her eyes scanning the room for something—anything—else to keep her occupied. She doesn’t want to talk. She doesn’t want to think. She just wants to not feel for a while.

She spots a group of people in the corner of the room, most of them looking just as drunk as she feels. Without another word to her best friends, Paige drifts toward the group, her steps a little uneven as the alcohol works its way through her system.

Jalen watches her go, his eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he turns back to his conversation. “She’ll be fine,” he mumbles, though there’s a slight hesitation in his voice. He glances at Thaliah, who shrugs, clearly tipsy herself but sharing the same concern. Nevertheless, neither of them are quite in the best shape to intervene. Besides, they both know Paige well enough to understand that trying to stop her won’t do any good.

Paige finds herself wedged between two guys she barely knows, both of them laughing loudly about something she isn’t even listening to. It doesn’t matter. She’s laughing too, caught up in the haze of drunkenness, the weight of everything she’s been carrying slipping off her shoulders for just a moment.

“Yo, you good?” one of the guys asks, his words slurred and slow as he nudges her with his elbow. “You look like you’re having a real good time.”

Paige grins, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through her chest. “Yeah, I’m good. Real good.”

He sends her a matching grin in return before handing her another drink—something dark and strong—and, without thinking twice, she takes a long sip, the liquid burning as it goes down. She doesn’t care. All she wants is to keep the buzz going, to keep drowning out the thoughts that keep creeping back whenever she slows down.

Dani. Always fucking Dani.

Paige shakes her head, like she can physically push the thought away. She doesn’t want to think about her. Not about the way she’s pulled away, not about the way she’s acting like Paige doesn’t even exist, not about the way she’s with Beau now. Paige doesn’t want to think about any of it.

“Paige, what are you doing?” Thaliah’s voice breaks through the noise, and Paige blinks, realizing she’s wandered away from the group she was with, ending up near the back patio. Thaliah stands in the doorway, her arms crossed, a slightly exasperated but still concerned look on her face.

“Getting another drink,” Paige slurs, waving her empty cup like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Thaliah steps closer, her eyes narrowing. “Maybe you should chill for a minute. You’ve had, like, five already.”

Paige rolls her eyes again, turning away from her friend. “I’m fine, Thal. Seriously.”

Thaliah hesitates, glancing back over her shoulder toward Jalen, who’s still talking to a couple of people near the couch. She isn’t entirely sober herself, and her judgment is definitely a little clouded, but even she can see Paige practically spiraling.

“Just… don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Thaliah affirms, her voice softer now.

“I won’t,” Paige mumbles, though she isn’t sure she means it.

Thaliah stares at her for a moment longer before sighing and heading back inside. Paige doesn’t look back. She wanders farther into the backyard, her footsteps a little less steady now. She finds a group of people near the fire pit, most of them drunk and talking over each other. She sits down on the edge of the bench, barely listening to their conversation as she takes another drink from the communal cooler.

Zoning out, she stares at the flames in the fire pit, the flickering light casting shadows on her face. It crackles, and she watches, the embers highlighting the dark air around her. Everything is a bit softer at the edges now, almost dreamlike, until something—or, rather someone—catches her eye.

A brunette girl sits down next to Paige, her face half-illuminated by the fire before them. She has softer features and warm eyes, as well as brown hair that falls around her shoulders in waves, light highlights coating it. Her cheeks are red with the unmistakable flush of alcohol. She glances at Paige, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of her lips. There’s something familiar about the girl, a feeling that tugs at Paige’s drunken mind. It takes her a second to place, but when she realizes why, her heart stumbles a bit: this girl reminds Paige of Dani.

The blonde blinks, her gaze instinctively drawn to the girl’s lips, her head swimming a little more than before.

“Hey,” the brunette slurs a little, her voice laced with the same inebriated giddiness that Paige feels. “I’m Delaney.”

“Delaney?” Paige echoes, feeling like she misheard for a second. She blinks again, her heart doing an unsteady flip at how similar the names Delaney and Dani sound to her. It throws her off for a moment, but not in the way she expects. Maybe it’s because she’s wasted, maybe it’s the loneliness she’s been burying, or maybe it’s just how much she misses her best friend. But somehow, Delaney seems all the more appealing to Paige because of it.

“Yeah,” Delaney giggles, leaning closer, her shoulder brushing against the blonde’s. “And you’re Paige Bueckers.”

Paige feels a smirk creep onto her lips. “You know who I am?” she asks, voice dipping lower, ego inflating slightly. She leans in a little, enough so the sides of their legs touch.

The blonde watches as Delaney’s gaze trails across her face and over her lips. “Everyone knows who you are,” the brunette murmurs. She pauses for a moment, her drunk smile widening slightly. “You’re hot.”

The heat rises in Paige’s chest at that, and she grins back, asking, “Oh, am I?”

Delaney rolls her eyes a little and Paige laughs. The air feels smaller now, like it’s just the two of them, cocooned in the haze of alcohol and tension. Delaney’s eyes sparkle as she stares at Paige, and without much more thought, they fall into a flirty back-and-forth, words blending into giggles and gentle touches that feel a little too familiar.

The brunette rests her hand on Paige’s knee, her fingers slowly trailing upward, and Paige doesn’t stop her. It’s easy. Too easy. Paige leans forward, her breath catching in her throat as their faces hover inches apart.

“You really are pretty,” Paige whispers, her eyes drifting to Delaney’s lips.

And before she knew it, the space between them disappears their lips crash together, the kiss hot and sloppy and fueled by too much alcohol. Paige kisses Delaney harder, trying to drown out the ache that’s been gnawing at her all summer—the same ache that Dani left behind when she cut Paige out of her life.

For a moment, it’s enough. Paige loses herself in the kiss, her hands sliding to Delaney’s waist, pulling her closer. Delaney’s hand is on Paige’s thigh again, this time higher, but the basketball player doesn’t stop her. The brunette tastes like cheap beer and something sweet, and Paige kisses her like it’s an escape.

But then, the sensation of being watched creeps up on her, sending a shiver down her spine. Paige pulls back a little, her breathing uneven and her lips swollen as her eyes darted around. She scans the yard and the back-end of the house, the shadows of people milling about. And then her gaze locks onto someone standing just by the back door.

Her stomach drops.

Dani.

Paige’s breath hitches as she stares at her. Dani’s watching her, her eyes dark and unreadable, arms crossed over her chest. Paige freezes, her heart pounding in her ears as she takes in the sight of her former best friend, looking so effortlessly gorgeous. She’s wearing jeans that fit her perfectly and a tank top that leaves little to the imagination and as soon as Paige’s eyes set on her, a familiar fire alights in her chest.

As soon as Dani realizes Paige has seen her, she looks away, turning her head and beginning to walk away from the back door as if she wasn’t watching at all. But Paige saw it. The tension in Dani’s jaw, the flicker of something in her eyes.

And suddenly, it’s like Paige is struck by lightning, jolted back into reality. What the hell is she doing?

“Shit,” Paige mutters, pushing herself away from Delaney, her heart racing. Delaney blinks in confusion, still dazed and flushed from the kiss.

“Wait—where are you going?” Delaney asks, her hand reaching for Paige’s arm.

“I—uh—I’ve gotta go,” Paige stammers, barely sparing her another glance before she’s up on her feet, leaving Delaney sitting there on the couch, confused and drunk. Paige barely feels a pang of guilt as she hurries toward Dani, the alcohol still swirling in her system, making her steps unsteady.

Paige stumbles inside the house, weaving her way through the crowd until she catches up to the Callan girl. She reaches out, grabbing Dani’s arm, stopping her in her tracks.

“Dani, wait—” Paige’s words come out more frantic than she intends, her grip on Dani’s arm loosening when Dani turns to face her. Paige’s heart hammers in her chest as she struggles to form coherent thoughts. “I—I don’t know what’s going on, but can we just—”

Dani jerks her arm out of Paige’s grip, her face stony. “What do you want, Paige?”

“I don’t know!” Paige’s voice cracks, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “I don’t know, okay? I saw you staring at me, and then you—why were you even watching me with her?”

Dani’s expression remains cold, but Paige sees the way her fingers twitch at her sides. “I wasn’t watching.”

“That’s bullshit, Dani!” Paige’s voice raises an octave, her fists clenching as she fights to keep herself at bay. “You were staring at me. And her. Why?”

“No, I wasn’t!” Dani denies again, her voice sharp and biting. “It’s none of my business what—or who—you do at a party.”

Paige’s chest tightens at the bitterness in Dani’s words. She feels the sting of them like a slap to the face. “If you don’t care, then why are you acting like this? Why are you even here?”

“I’m here with Beau,” Dani says, her voice firm. “And I don’t care what you do. So, why don’t you go on back to making out with random girls, yeah?”

Paige’s breath catches in her throat, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. “God, you’re so full of shit,” she mutters, shaking her head. “You act like you don’t care, but you do. I know you do. Why can’t you just admit it, for fucks’ sake?”

They stare at each for a long moment, face-to-face in silence, anger and something else surrounding the air between them. But before either of them can say anything more, Beau appeared out of nowhere, stepping between them.

“Is there a problem here?” Beau asked, his eyes narrowing at Paige, his tone casual but the tension in his stance clear. He steps in front of Dani like a shield, glaring at Paige.

The blonde rolls her eyes at him, her frustration doubling. “No,” she snaps, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just having a conversation.”

Beau scoffs, his arms crossing over his chest. “Doesn’t look like much of a conversation to me. Looks like you’re harassing my girlfriend, Bueckers.”

Paige’s stomach churns at the word, the jealousy like a punch to the gut. It’s not unfamiliar at this point, but it still gives Paige the same effect. “Can’t you just fuck off?” she retorts with venom. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“I’m her boyfriend, so, yeah, I think it does,” Beau argues, stepping closer to Paige, trying to intimidate her. But Paige isn’t scared of him, even in her drunken state. He may be more muscular—the football kind of body type—but she’s taller, a couple of inches on him, and she meets his challenge with a steady glare.

“I don’t give a shit what you think,” Paige bites out, stepping closer herself, their faces inches apart now. “But Dani and I? We have history. And you—” she jabs her finger into his chest, “are just a replacement.”

Beau’s face twists in anger, his hands balling into fists. “Watch your mouth, Bueckers.”

“Or what—” the blonde begins, but before she can get her words out completely, two figures are by her side, hands pulling her away slightly.

“Paige,” Thaliah mutters, trying to tug at her arm. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Jalen stands there too, shaking his head. “Yep, come on,” he says. And then he lets his gaze shift between Beau and Dani, glaring at the pair. “Neither of them are worth it.”

Paige’s jaw clenches, her eyes still locked on Dani’s, searching for anything that would tell her this isn’t over. But Dani won’t even look at her. She keeps her eyes trained on the floor, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest, her whole body tense.

And so, Paige id about to turn around, to let Thaliah and Jalen pull her away, when she hears Beau’s voice again.

“It’s good you and her aren’t friends anymore,” Beau says loudly, looking directly at Dani. His next words are sharp and venomous. “Don’t want a dyke like her corrupting you.”

The world seems to freeze.

Paige’s heart stops. The word dyke echoes in her ears, and the blood drains from her face. She can feel the heat rising in her chest, the anger boiling over like a volcano about to erupt.

Even Dani’s head snaps up, her eyes wide with shock. But she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t defend Paige.

Without thinking, without even hesitating for a second, Paige turns and lunges at Beau, her fists flying before anyone can react.

Her first punch lands squarely on his jaw, sending him stumbling back. She feels pain erupt across her knuckles, and she shakes her hand for a moment. The shock on his face is almost satisfying—almost. But Paige doesn’t stop there. She she shoves him backwards now, hands at his chest, and he stumbles slightly.

“You fucking—” Beau starts, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish.

Thaliah and Jalen are on her in an instant, pulling Paige back with more force now. Thaliah’s voice is almost panicked, trying to calm her down as Jalen stands between her and Beau, his hands outstretched like a human barrier. He glares at the Hudson boy, saying firmly, “Back the fuck up.”

“Paige, come on, it’s not worth it!” Thaliah’s practically shouting now, her grip on Paige’s arm tight.

“Let go of me!” Paige yells, her voice cracking with fury. She struggles against their hold, her eyes locked on Beau, who stands there, looking more shocked than anything. But there’s no fear in his eyes—only smugness, actually.

Beau wipes his mouth, glancing at the blood on his hand where her punch landed. He sneers. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Can’t handle the truth, can you?”

Paige’s vision blurs with anger, and she tries to lunge at him again, but Thaliah and Jalen hold her back.

Dani, who’s been frozen this whole time, finally speaks up. “Beau, just stop.”

Beau’s glances down at Dani, almost grinning. He clearly is enjoying the chaos he’s caused. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking, babe.”

Paige is done. She’s fucking done.

“Fuck you,” she spits at Beau, staring at him from behind Jalen. He just smirks back. And then she turns her attention to Dani, adding, “And, fuck you, too. You’re such a fucking coward, Dani.”

Paige rips her arm from Thaliah’s grasp, turning from the group and walking straight out of the house, wanting nothing more than to just go home.

THE DAYS that follow are a blur of basketball practices, classes, and restless nights. Paige tries to focus, tries to lose herself in the familiar routine, but nothing feels right. Every time she steps onto the court, her movements feel sluggish, disconnected. She’s there, but she isn’t really present. Her mind is elsewhere, stuck in a loop of memories and worries that she can’t escape.

Coach Cosgriff notices, of course. It would be impossible not to. Paige has always been the one to set the pace, to push herself and her teammates to be better. But now, she’s lagging behind, missing cues, and snapping at anyone who tries to point it out.

“Paige, my office. Now,” Coach says one afternoon after a particularly grueling practice.

Paige knows what’s coming, but she follows him without protest, dragging her feet as she walks. The other girls exchange glances but don’t say anything. They know better than to try to talk to her when she’s in one of these moods.

Coach’s office is small, cramped with old trophies and posters of past teams. He sits behind his desk, his expression unreadable as he gestures for Paige to sit down before him.

“What’s going on with you, Paige?” he asks, leaning forward, his tone soft but firm. “This isn’t like you. You’ve been off for weeks now. Is it school? Family? Whatever it is, you need to get it sorted, because it’s affecting your game.”

Paige looks down at her hands, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s… complicated,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Coach sighs, running a hand over his face. “Life is complicated, Paige. But you need to find a way to deal with it. You’re the leader of this team, and if you’re not focused, the others won’t be either.“

“I know,” Paige replies, her throat tight. “I’m sorry, Coach. I’m just… going through something right now.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Coach offers, surprising Paige. He isn’t usually the type to get involved in his players’ personal lives, but Paige guesses he’s worried about how much this is affecting her performance.

Paige shakes her head, though. She couldn’t talk about it, not without breaking down, and she couldn’t afford to do that. Besides, it would be more embarrassing than anything to have to explain how much losing someone—that’s technically still there—has affected her. “No, I’ll be fine. I just need some time.”

Coach watches her for a moment, then nods slowly. “Alright. But you need to get your head back in the game, Paige. I can’t have you on the court if you’re not all there. Understand?”

“Yes, Coach,” Paige responds quickly, feeling the weight of his words settle on her shoulders.

“Take tonight off,” Coach says, surprising her again. “Clear your head, do whatever you need to do. But when you come back tomorrow, I need the Paige Bueckers I know back on that court. The season starts in less than a month, Paige.”

Paige nods, standing up to leave. “I’ll do my best, Coach.”

As she’s about to walk out the door, Coach Cosgriff stops her, saying, “Wait.” She turns, eyes curious as she meets his gaze, wondering what else he has to say. He offers a small smile, telling her, “I went through a tough time when I was your age, too. It’s difficult to be a teenager. But the best advice I was ever given is that whatever problem you’ve got going on—you gotta either drop it, forget it, and move on, or you fix it. I know it’s easier said than done, but it’s true.”

Paige lets the words sink in.

Drop it, forget it, move on.

Or fix it.

Fuck, she doesn’t know.

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

193 notes · View notes

world0fmadness · 3 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ✩ ˚ KMF1

max verstappen x kmfdm member! reader

featuring: kmfdm fans being a little possessive of reader and max loving his gothic girlfriend

faceclaim: assorted but mainly lucia cifarelli

୨୧ are there any other kmfdm fans in the f1 community? timeline is all wrong obviously because kmfdm has been around for years and i know the tattoo part is a bit unrealistic but just imagine it’s a little smaller and just… shut up <3

reading music recommendations: stray bullet by kmfdm - take it like a man by kmfdm - murder my heart by kmfdm

ynln: sweet show in monaco tonight! thanks to everyone who came out, c u again soon 🕷

loveuyn: more hot yn pictures, let’s gooo

> kmfuckmeyn: her eyes in the first picture… mph

maxverstappen ✔️: amazing show!

❤️ liked by ynln

> iluvf1: max, what are you doing here? 😭

> kmfdmsux: who tf is this?

> ynsteponme: why did mother like his comment? she only usually likes sascha’s comments…

> kmfuckmeyn: someone hit this man with a broom until he leaves, i don’t like the look of him

> ynloveme: relax you guys omg 😭

saschakonietzko ✔️: yah… i’m sure you gave a very special thank you to that one very special person who was there ;)

❤️ liked by ynln

> ynln ✔️: you know it <3

> steponmeyn: sascha… who? where? when? why?

kmfdmsux: such an amazing show! can’t wait to see you guys live again someday 🖤

ynln: taking a short break from touring! loving the stray cats in monaco <3

steponmeyn: and the whole ass man? whooo?

loveuyn: who is that? is it trent?

> steponmeyn: we need to be rid of this trend x yn ship, he is literally married

kmfuckmeyn: can anyone identify the hands and legs?

> kmfdmsux: literally, we need to put a hit out on whoever that is!

> ynloveme: we’re never beating the possessive fan base allegations…

saschakonietzko ✔️: ah… wonder who that is with you?

❤️ liked by ynln

> steponmeyn: sascha FUCKING TELL US 😭

maxverstappen and ynln: soon to be mr and mrs verstappen 🖤

loveuyn: oh he came to set the record straight 😭

> steponmeyn: LITERALLY, MY GIRL! NO ONE ELSES

oldf1lvr: IM SORRY WHAT?

danielricciardo ✔️: congratulations mate! knew it wouldn’t be long before you put a ring on her finger

❤️ liked by ynln and maxverstappen

> maxverstappen ✔️: thanks mate, for everything!

❤️ liked by danielricciardo

maxontop: i don’t know who she is but i’m moving this side of max she’s bringing out 🫢

> f1forlife: no but literally! he seems so confident in these pictures…

lovememax: these pictures just altered my brain chemistry… i want them both

charlesleclerc ✔️: you’ll be wearing redbull gear to the wedding i presume?

> ynln ✔️: absolutely not

> maxverstappen ✔️: you heard the lady! no redbull at the wedding

❤️ liked by ynln and charlesleclerc

> redbullracing ✔️: 😔

lovemyf1dilfs: who is this? they’re hot…

> steponmeyn: kmfdm fans 🤝 f1 not knowing who tf the other is dating despite both being famous because these fandoms are so different

steponmeyn: max, what’s your favourite kmfdm song?

> maxverstappen ✔️: murder my heart!

❤️ liked by ynln and saschakonietzko

maxverstrapon: do i need to go back to sleep? this can’t be real right? he didn’t just announce that he’s engaged when no one even knew he was in a relationship?

> iluvf1: well, the other drivers knew…

maxverlvr: omg… this explains why he’s seemed so much happier the past few years…

lewishammy: max… i’d like to apologise, i wasn’t familiar with your game…

landontop: why do these white bread men get the baddest bitches 💔

kmfdmsux: oh that ring is so cute… i still don’t know if he’s good enough for mother but at least it’s cute

> steponmeyn: right? i’m glad he actually knows her personality so well 🥹

saschakonietzko ✔️: can’t believe you’ve actually gotten yourself tied into a knot! congratulations yn and max

❤️ liked by ynln and maxverstappen

> maxvertappen ✔️: thanks sascha!

> ynln ✔️: thank you sasch 🖤

kmfuckmeyn: we lost her to a m*n who drives in circles lol what the fuck

> ynontop: hope he dies ( not really )

> loveuyn: we’re never beating the obsessed with yn allegations…

> maxverlvr: you mf’s are crazy holy shit 😭

maxverstappen and ynln: officially mr and mrs verstappen ln!

comments on this post are limited

charlesleclerc ✔️: best cake i’ve ever had

> maxverstappen ✔️: that’s all you have to say?

> charlesleclerc ✔️: oh right! congratulations max and yn

> maxverstappen ✔️: 🙄

iluvf1: max having a more gothic wedding instead of a traditional all white church one 😭 we love to see it

danielricciardo ✔️: congratulations mate! beautiful ceremony

❤️ liked by ynln and maxverstappen

> maxverstappen ✔️: thanks mate ❤️

steponmeyn: okay… whatever… maybe they’re a little hot together, but only because yn seems to be really bringing out his personality

sebastianvettel ✔️: congratulations max and yn! very nice wedding setting - sebastian

❤️ liked by ynln and maxverstappen

> maxverstappen ✔️: thank you sebastian!

> oldf1lvr: of course the bug loving dilf would like the wedding in the woods lmao 😭

saschakonietzko ✔️: congratulations you two! great wedding

❤️ liked by ynln and saschakonietzko

> ynln ✔️: yeah… you only drank yourself to a point of wanting to make out with all of max’s friends <3

❤️ liked by maxverstappen and saschakonietzko

> saschakonietzko ✔️: ;)

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧ ˚ NEW ADDED BONUS ˚ ୨୧ ⋆｡˚ ⋆

kids deserve good music

#max verstappen x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smau

204 notes · View notes

lilbadgyu · 26 days

Note

I saw your requests are open -

Could you do Wonwoo thinking YN and Joshua are together? Kind of based on what Joshua said on Youngji's show about people taking his actions the wrong way (like opening her milk for her). Joshua is attentive and nice and YN is sweet and a good listener but they're just friends - two very American pals in Seoul. Wonwoo is a little discouraged but he has the wrong idea because YN is actually interested in someone else...

Thank you! Hope your getting back into writing here brings you lots of happiness 😊 @mykpopficblog

an: omg yes! lowkey that video with joshua and dk with youngji is one of my faves! (edit: i got the two videos mixed up 😭)

Friends: 전원우

✧˚ · . Friends by Chase Atlantic

Seventeen Master List Word Count: 909

✧˚ · .Warnings: jealousy? but not super jealous

✧˚ · . Summary: Wonwoo always has his eyes on you, seeing how you are around the other members, but starts to notice that you and Joshua are close.

✧˚ · .AN: i am sorry if there are any mistakes or weird spellings i just got my nails done and it's lowkey really hard to type lol

it was another day in the practice room, but it was getting close to the end; and that meant dinner. seungcheol came up with the idea that everyone joins dinner. it was friday night, and the team worked hard this week, and seungcheol wanted to treat you and the boys to take out.

you stood to the side, watching everyone pay close attention to the choreographer. they were rehearsing for their soon to be tour, and they wanted it to be perfect. you found it funny when they messed around, but yet they always got back on track. your eyes scanned the whole group, but they always landed on wonwoo. you two were close friends, but over the years you found yourself s,owly falling for him.

no matter what it was, he was beginning to catch your attention big time.

the boys were dismissed for a ten minute break, everyone rushing over to their stuff to get a drink of water; or even check their phones. joshua walked over, and you handed him his water. "well thank you, i hope that you're not bored already." joshua chuckled, taking a sip of his water.

"nope, you guys are very entertaining." you laughed along.

wonwoo;s head turned towards you direction, his water in his hands. his eyes locked on your smile as you talked to joshua, wondering what he said that made you laugh. "uh oh, someones jealous." dokyeom joked, putting his hand on wonwoo's shoulder.

"no i'm not, i'm just checking in on her." wonwoo dismissed quietly, his eyes still locked on you.

joshua sat next to you, scrolling through his phone while you two talked. wonwoo watched from the distance, he was quiet but his mind was speaking a million words a minute. he never asked about who you liked, or if you had a partner; he kept it to himself. wonwoo knew that you and joshua were close, and even friends for a longer amount of time. he knew that you two went to high school together, and that you would come visit whenever you were able to. just this last year you moved to korea to be closer to your high school best friend.

"hey shua," you said, catching joshua's attention, "do you know if wonwoo is seeing anyone?"

joshua was caught off guard, "whoa, wait... do you like wonwoo?" joshua replied.

"oh nevermind, i shouldn't of asked." you replied quickly, hiding your face in your knees.

joshua chuckled, "oh don't be embarassed, i promise you he is as single as single can be." he joked.

everyone was called back to finish up the last 30 minutes of practice. once they ran through ss many songs as they could, they called the end of practice.

everyone gathered their things, and all made their way out of the building. you and joshua walked together, discussing what you asked eariler. wonwoo walked with mingyu, his mind filled with millions of thoughts. "alright, what's on your mind?" mingyu asked wonwoo, breaking the silence.

"do you know if joshua and yn are... together?" wonwoo asked, his eyes locked on the back of your head.

"uhh, no i don't i just know that they've been friends for a long time." mingyu answered.

"that doesn't help." wonwoo sighed.

mingyu took a second to put two and two together, "oh my god you like yn." mingyu spoke wth excitement.

wonwoo nodded, "well, considering that her and joshua have been friends for a while; i'd say no, but who knows." mingyu shrugged.

----

everyone gathered around the table, food was on the table; enough to basically feed a whole school. you were sat between joshua and wonwoo; wonwoo kept his body turned the other way. "hey woo, can you pass the noodles?" you asked,

no reply.

"woo, can you pass the noodles?" you asked again.

no reply yet again.

"jeon wonwoo can you pass the noodles?" you spoke up, wonwoo's atention instantly to you, grabbing the pot of noodles, "god, what is going on with you today?" you growled.

wonwoo got up, pushing his chair in so then you could get out. "what?" you asked.

"are you coming or not?" wonwoo asked.

seungcheol looked to you two, "what's going on?" seungcheol asked.

"nothing, we'll be back." wonwoo answered as you got up.

you two walked to where you weren't seen by the other members. "ight, are you going to explain?" you questioned.

wonwoo was faced away from you, he was quiet. you repeated your statement once again, but wonwoo kept turned around. "alright if you aren't going to answer, then i'm going to go back to dinner." you said, beginning to make your way back.

you felt him grab your arm, "are you and joshua together?" he asked quietly.

"what?" you asked.

"are you and joshua together?" he asked again, leaving a short pause between each word, his head down.

you couldn't believe what he was asking, "wait? what? where did you get that idea from?" you questioned.

"you two are always so close, and you only moved here because of him. you two have to be dating." wonwoo answered.

"you're joking right? you do know that joshua and i are literal best friends. i don't date my friends, and besides that i like someone else." you laughed softly.

wonwoo was taken back, "i bet it's mingyu."

you sighed with a shake of your head, "no silly, it's you. it's been you." you replied.

131 notes · View notes

yooglefics · 2 months

Text

The casual type: 04 . The plans change

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader Wordcount: 4,832 words Genre ( for the whole series ): AU. College!verse. Strangers to friends with benefits to ???. Eventual smut. Hurt / comfort at times. Fluff for cute friends. Summary: ( Series ) • Hobi and his girlfriend set you up with a friend of hers to help with whatever happened months back. However, no one really expected things to end the way they did. ( Ep. 04 ) • The night wasn't supposed to go like this, but there's nothing to complain about. Well, maybe a little. Warnings under read more.

Warnings ( for this ep ): The squad being annoying ( I <3 them ). Pet names ( princess , baby , doll ). Flirting. Making out. Grinding. Fingering. ( wash your hands, folks ). Yoongi's hands should be a warning. 1,1714 words of just smut and I literally don’t know how that happened lol. Author's note: The plans for this chapter also changed a lot because I only had like three notes for it lmao. Nevertheless, I'm excited to share it with all of you, thank you for sticking around and I hope you like this ep. Remember to leave a comment, send an ask, with your thoughts and also maybe reblog, and what not. As always, thank you for reading! <3

“No, the thing is, she doesn't want to share space. That's why,” Jimin accuses you from his position on the couch. Not being good at sharing himself since his whole body is on it.

“That's not true! I just don't want to be around sweaty boys.”

“As if you don't sweat,” Jungkook argues.

“I don't.”

“She doesn't, she is a princess,” Is Yoongi's turn to pick on you. He called you that before at the club but this time surprises you since is in front of your friends and your relationship with each other has changed. And actually, you're supposed to be keeping that a secret from them.

“I love how she didn't argue that one,” says Jimin, chuckling.

“Because I am, duh.” You do an exaggerated flip of your ponytail while turning around, carrying another box of kitchenware to put away.

The guys finally decided to rent a house all together, and to make up for the fact that you refused to leave your dorm and follow them, you offered to help organize and decorate because, at the end of everything, you'd probably be spending a lot of time here.

“You should have moved in with us,” You hear Hobi tell Yoongi after bringing more boxes inside the house. “Did you find a place?”

“Yes, one of my classmates and his roommates were looking for someone. Is not too far away from here, actually.”

“That's cool. You guys can come over whenever.”

“You should come to the party tonight!” Taehyung says excitedly.

“Tonight?!” You walk out of the kitchen, a couple of glasses in your hands. “You're not even done downloading the truck. Jimin is not even moving!”

“I withdraw my offer for you to move in with us,” says your friend. “She is more like an evil step-sister,” he murmurs to Yoongi and he laughs along with everyone else.

“I hate you all.”

Storming back into the kitchen, you decide to focus on putting everything away. Not a single thing that can be broken in sight of future drunk guests, that's why you are struggling to put mugs on cupboards you can barely reach.

“Do you need help, princess?”

The nickname makes you almost drop Tae's last birthday present, and Yoongi is right there to catch you both. “Careful,” he says.

“Is your fault.”

“Did I scare you?” he chuckles, “Sorry.”

“You keep scaring me when you call me that,” you whisper.

“What? You don't like it?” Confused look on his face when he turns to you after putting the mug in place.

“I–why do you call me that?”

“Because sometimes you get kinda grumpy and you're cute, like a princess.”

It makes you smile, and it matches the one on his face.

“I'm going to ignore the fact that you called me grumpy,” you pretend to be upset about it, scrunching up your lips in fake dislike.

“Yeah, focus on the fact that you're cute.” you blush and he uses the excuse of grabbing another mug to get closer, making it so if you lean in a little you could steal a peck.

But you still aren't sure about how the whole friends with benefits thing works. Nor confident enough to make a decision before Jungkook announces through the house: “the truck is empty, told you we could do it!”

And soon enough Yoongi is out of the room, helping move boxes here and there, and after everything that doesn't belong in the living room is out of it, he finally sits with you and Jimin on the sofa, you in the middle of the two.

“Are you really having a party today?” Yoongi asks.

“Of course! We have to baptize the place.”

“That sounds gross.” You say, noise scrunched.

“You're gross. That's not very princess-y of you,” says Jimin and Yoongi laughs.

“I feel gross, I'm going home to change. Do you want me to give you a ride to the dorms?”

“Yes, please!”

You have thought about going alone, but after your failed kiss in the kitchen you wanted at least some time alone, and a car drive should be just enough.

Or perhaps not.

Because Yoongi drops you at your dorm and goes home to change, refusing to get close to you when he is all sweaty.

You hit send with one hand and with the other make sure your door is open before sitting once again on the bed, grabbing your mirror and eyeliner to continue your routine.

“Hello?” He knocks a few times and you tell him to come in, all concentration on the task at hand. And that gives him time to look around a little, taking in your space.

Is a large room, just looking a bit cramped thanks to the big pieces of furniture ( two beds, two dressers, and two desks ) but your method of putting everything against the walls definitely helps. That, and the fact that your roommate hasn't moved in yet. “Now I understand why you didn't want to move in with them. You have a room all for yourself?”

You laugh, “Their office was gonna be my room, actually. And no, this year I'm supposed to share it.”

“You didn't last year?”

“At the beginning I did. But then she paired with someone else.” You shrug, not sure about the details since you've only known her for a couple of weeks. “But it's not as cool as everyone thinks, sometimes it gets lonely, mostly on exam weeks when everyone is busy studying.”

“Well, you can invite me anytime.” He only partially jokes.

“Deal. But you've to bring snacks.”

“Deal.”

Yoongi sits on your bed while waiting, scrolling on his phone and every now and then looking up to watch you apply the rest of your makeup, then perfume and pick a jacket, until you are standing in front of him with a smile as you announce you're ready.

“That was faster than I thought,” he says, standing up. “Your eyes do look cute with the sparkle eyeshadow. Bogum was right.”

“Oh, don't remember me that. I think that's the last time he is going to talk to me,” a sigh follows the exaggeration.

“If he is really interested he is going to try again.”

“And if he is not?”

“Then he's not worth it.” The confidence in his voice is as contagious as his smile, and you match it.

For a second you wonder if it should be weird to talk about this with the guy you made out with just yesterday. If this is just normal encouragement because you are becoming friends or do all friends with benefits have this type of conversation?. Either way, you are glad to have someone to talk to about your little crush, and so, decide to not give it too much thought if Yoongi doesn't seem to do it either.

When he first asked you about it on Wednesday it was out of curiosity and you returned the phrase about the cat's tragic ending, receiving a “Well, I guess we are confidants now, kitten.”

You gave him a rundown of the situation and confessed about having a little bit of hope for his now teammate to invite you out again. He wished you the best and told you to let him know if something does happen because, according to him, Bo doesn't seem like the guy to be into sharing, and so, Yoongi doesn't want to be in the way.

“Maybe you should talk to him tonight. He is going, isn't he?”

“Uh, not sure. I asked Kook but I don't think he saw my text.” you turn to grab your phone and check.

But before you can open the app, Yoongi grabs your shoulders and guides you out the door, “Or we can just drive there and see.”

You're surprised to see the motorcycle in the parking lot, thinking it had been just a thing of last week since you haven't seen him use it since then. You even wondered if it was his in the first place.

“What? Are you scared now?” He teases when you don't take the helmet he is holding in your direction. Just standing there without any movement. “You know I'm a good driver.”

“Yeah, I just… didn't expect it.”

He laughs at your genuine shock before explaining, “I always take it to parties because it's easier to find parking and get out of there whenever I want to.”

“And I'm sure girls love it, too.”

“That's a plus,” He nods with a smirk, “but don't worry, baby, I’m not making you share tonight.”

“Shut up,” with your nose scrunched for good measure, you finally take the helmet from him. But instead of grabbing his own and getting ready, he gets closer to you, brushing your fingers with his when you're going to secure it and doing it for you instead.

“You tell me that a lot, you know.”

“You talk too much,” you defend, “it's your own fault.”

“Or… you just want to kiss me.”

Glad your smile is hidden by the helmet, you push him a bit as you answer, "Actually, shut up.”

He laughs, and then goes on to put on and secure his helmet before claiming on the motorcycle and waiting for you.

The shock about the vehicle wasn't only pure confusion, it was also the realization that your outfit was probably not the best choice. The fabric of your skirt was flowier than the one you used last time, and you aren't sure it would do well at a fast speed.

“Don't go too fast,” you ask him, hands on his shoulders to help you get on and sit behind him.

“I don't get that a lot,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes still fussing with your clothes. “You ready?” he waits for your signal before revving up the engine.

He drives faster than last time. Or maybe you're just sober and more scared about it all. Your legs tighten on his sides, and your arms around his middle, all the while telling yourself is only to protect the wind from stealing your dignity. When he stops, you have to open your eyes to realize it is because of a red light and your body relaxes.

Left hand leaves the throttle and goes to your tight, closer to your knee, the coldness of his fingers makes you jump and you feel him chuckle before caressing your skin. “You okay?” he asks loud enough to be heard through the street noises and your covered ears. You nod between his shoulder blades, even if your heart is racing.

Remembering you had felt your phone ringing in your jacket pocket indicating a few texts, you figure there's enough time to check them before the light changes.

You show Yoongi and he gives you a thumbs down, making you laugh. Oh, well. Maybe it just wasn't made to be.

Thinking he would just drive you back to your dorm, you're surprised when he doesn't take the next turn back — is he driving to another party?

The answer comes only when he takes a turn before entering the highway. Right to the top of The Hill. Every teenager destination to run away from their problems. Every horny couple with a low budget looking for privacy, which yes, in itself destroys that very purpose. But, this is not a place to think about too much, even if there are also people who come here to think, like Yoongi.

He turns the engine off, puts down the stand, and takes off his helmet. You follow behind, curious.

“I figured we should make something out of being outside right now, the sun is about to set.” He looks at his watch and then to the front, at the view. From here you can see the city from above, at least a big part of it. Including the mountains and skylines.

“C’mon,” he pats your tight twice, asking you to get down. Complying, you use his shoulders for support again and get closer to the barricade at the edge.

“C'mon,” you throw back to him when he doesn't follow you.

“I can see it from here.”

You frown at him, “really?” He nods. Your head tilts slightly to the side, “reeeally?”

“Let a guy be.”

He looks… weird.

And, suddenly, it clicks.

“I can't believe it.” You walk back to him, “Are you afraid of heights?!”

“Don't make fun of me.”

“I'm not!” But in fact you're fighting back a smile, “is just… unexpected.”

“Yeah. Unlike the death from falling from here to who knows where.” He reasons and you can't really argue with that.

But you can argue with him moving closer.

Grabbing his hand and pulling, amazed when you manage a few steps without problem, but soon he puts strength into it. The abrupt stop of his body pulls yours back, bringing you close to his chest, making a surprise noise cross your lips and your triumphant smile is gone.

“Don't make me leave you here,” and for a second you wonder if he really would. Wonder how much you can push before he actually gets mad. “Look!”

Your eyes stop scanning his face, following the direction he is looking at and you catch the sky changing colors for the next few minutes. Blue. Orange. Pink. Purple. Dark blue, because the lights of the city start to appear avoiding the complete darkness. But from here, you can see more stars than from your room's window and everything seems kind of infinity.

“Wow…” is a bit lame and predictable, but what else is there to say?

“Yeah. Is beautiful.” He agrees, hand finally letting go of yours and moving to your shoulder, “and you didn't have to stand at the line of death to see it.”

“So dramatic.” With an eye roll you turn to him. He appears calmer, with a smile playing on his lips as he keeps looking at the sky.

“What?” he asks.

You're in his room now, sitting on the bed Yoongi just told you he had to buy a mattress for because he used to dorm at his last university and didn't own one. You make no promises of not spilling any of your slushie on it and he laughs, tells you he will not forgive you and both of you know it’s not true.

Going back to your room isn't a priority right now, you're having a good time talking about random things and siping your sugary drinks with a big bag of chips between the two. You were nervous about his roommates because apparently they are older and that scares you for some reason, but he reassures you they are busy with their own thing and he can drive you back before they arrive.

“Nothing.” But your eyes are still on his lips, on the color they are tinted thanks to the red drinks, “do you like it?”

“Is not bad. I prefer blueberry, though.”

“I think this one is better,” you said that before at the store when you stopped for gas, convincing him to try it.

“Of course you think so, you love cherry things. I'd not be surprised if your favorite color is red just because of it.”

“How do you know that?” is surprising he says it with such security.

“It is?”

“No. I mean, yes,” you backtrack, “but how do you know that I love cherry things? Did the matchmakers tell you that?”

“Mai and Hobi?

You nod, too curious of his answer you miss the way his eyes are following your lips as they wrap around the straw.

“No. But you always have cherry candy with you. You gave us cherry lollipops on tuesday. I asked you for gum the other day and you gave me cherry. Jungkook gets you cherry cola specifically, from the vending machine at our building. And,” he pauses his list, the corner of his lip curving up, “like four out of the five times we've kissed, you either test or smell like cherry. Or both.”

“Well,” you answer after a couple seconds of silence, “I'm conscious now.”

He laughs, and you drink again.

“Don't be. Is like… your touch.”

“Ew,” noise scrunched up, “I don't know if I want that. Am I going to be known as the cherry girl?”

Again he laughs, your horrified expression making it impossible not to.

“Do I smell like it right now?” Bringing your arm to your nose, you try smelling your clothes. Then your hair.

“Stop,” he asks, reaching to put strains of hair back into place. “You smell good. Forget I said anything.”

“No, I can't. Now it’s in my head.” You try smelling your other arm, almost spilling your drink.

“Okay,” he catches it in time, tilting your hand back completely upright, “that way you really are going to taste like cherry and leave a trace behind.”

“Wait. Do I really taste like it? When you kiss me, does it bother you?”

“Why are you freaking out about this?” And seeing your seriousness, he bites back his chuckles.

“Just answer the question.”

“Okay, okay. Let's see,” and before you can process it, his lips are on yours, and he hums. “Can’t tell.” And he goes in again, free hand to the back of your head to bring you forward, to really capture your lips with his.

Running his tongue over your bottom lip sends shivers through your body since it’s warmer, softer. And a small moan escapes your lips, separating them and letting his tongue in.

You're scared to move. Not because of him. But because you have been wanting to kiss him since sitting down — heck, since this morning — but didn't know how. All this feels so complicated in your head, with rules you have to follow and what not, but in practice, he makes it look so much easier.

Of course you can't pull him for a kiss in your friends’ house, that is too risky. But when he kisses you like this, it gives you confidence to at least ask him to do it whenever you're alone and feel like it.

Somehow your hand is on his neck, fingers running through the hair at his nape as your mouths keep their rhythm going. And you decide to take the risk, kneeling on the bed and moving closer to him. You separate for a second only to make sure you're not making a mess and he smiles at you, “give me that.” Sipping one last time at the slushie, you give it to him to be secured and abandoned on his nightstand, bag of chips moves next and now his hands are free to pull you into his lap by your waist.

“You haven't answered the question,” you tell him, hands cupping his face, “Or you just wanted to kiss me?”

“Stop stealing my lines.”

“Is that a no?” You pretend to pull back and his hold tightness.

“You want me to say it?” a nod is your answer, and is a bit surprising when he obeys. “Yes. I wanted to kiss you,” and he does, making his point clear. “And also yes, you test like cherry sometimes,” another peck, “is sweeter now, but not so much like when is from your candies,” his voice gets lower each time, practically a whisper, “and your lips look amazing tinted red, I want to kiss you every time.”

And you make it happen. Kissing him softer this time, setting your own peace. Yoongi goes with it at first, but those thoughts he doesn't share with you are hard to keep on track when your hips grind against his. Not helping with the situation in his jeans.

His hands hold you firmly, stopping your movements, and his lips move faster, fighting for dominance. He wants you and you know it and it gives you the confidence to move again. At first it was involuntarily, your body's own reaction to him, but then you put force into it, mostly to go against his hold. He groans into your mouth, feeling it rumble against your chest.

Pushing his shoulders back, Yoongi finally gives in and lets go of your hips in order to help himself up with an arm behind him, other hand on your thigh. His eyes travel from there to your chest, moving as fast as his with your breathing, to your face, bottom lip between your teeth and his tongue touches his own in the same place. You just sit there, looking at each other for a few seconds until his hand moves up your leg, dragging the fabric of the skirt along. But he stops mid way, going back down. He chuckles at your reaction of puffing air as a sign of deception, “what's that?”

Prying your eyes from his hand is difficult, but you look at his face, smirk in place as he moves again, fingertips glassing over soft skin. “I should make you do it too,” he teases, “make you tell me what you think and what you want.”

The idea is both terrifying and a turn on at the same time. You have never vocally asked for anything like that, but the tone of his voice, the raspiness, it intoxicates you so much you may be willing to try.

“But I'm not mean like you, baby.” In one swift movement his hand is up your leg again, grabbing your butt and making your skirt rail up, exposing more of your thigh and you gasp as he bucks his hips upward.

“I’m not mean,” you breathe.

“No?” Head tilts to the side, that playful smile of his should be a crime. “Are you a good girl?”

“I hate you.”

“So we are dirty talking,” he nods and you roll your eyes with a chuckle.

It hasn't been long, but you really like what you guys have. Is easy. Without drama or feelings being hurt. And, being completely honest, the way he kisses you is enough to know you make the right decision.

Do you still believe in soulmates and want to meet yours and live happily ever after like all the love stories you have consumed throughout your life? Yes. But maybe your story can also include an arc of exploring your sexuality with someone who is just a friend. Someone who gets your jokes and trusts you too. Someone who kisses you sooo good it takes your breath away without having to be scared of the future and what-ifs.

Someone whose fingertips brush the top of your inner thighs, so close to their goal, but nothing more because he is waiting for you. Although it’s hard because of the little sounds that keep flowing out of your throat as you start moving your hips on his lap, grinding on his hardening erection.

He is kissing your neck, sucking here and there but not hard enough to leave marks, and his other hand has made its way down your t-shirt, looking for that skin to skin contact, glad both of your guys' jackets were abandoned way before at his bedroom’s entrance.

“Tell me to stop and I'll,” Yoongi reminds against your skin and you nod, the hand under your skirt finally moving from its place and you miss the warmth it provided. But his fingers reach for the waistband of your panties and your breath hatch a little as they move south, thumb brushing over your clothed pussy. “Fuck.”

You moan. At the touch, at his reaction to feeling you're wet. And before you can feel conscious about it, he is rubbing circles over it. “Ahh…”

“So responsive,” he groans, “Does it feel good?”

You nod, unable to form words as he pushes gently over on your center, making your body move towards him, looking for more. And he gives it to you by sneaking his hand under your panties, ring finger sliding between your folds, a groan of his own accompanying your whimpers as he truly feels how wet you're.

“F-fuck. You feel so soft,” Yoongi points out and it makes a shiver run down your body, while he keeps rubbing expertly, cupping your pussy when even without realizing your hips start moving again, looking for more friction.

“Y-yoongi,” you call, asking for more.

For a second you think he doesn't get it because he takes his hand out, however is only to bring his ring and middle finger to his mouth, humming around them without breaking eye contact. Brown irises over taken by desire and you could've gotten lost on that look alone, but soon his hand goes back to its place between your legs, “Breathe,” he instructs, “tell me if it hurts.”

And it does, a little. Because you're not used to it and every touch is a bit overwhelming, all the same, he is gentle, one finger pushing in slowly and not all the way before going back. Your eyes close under his gaze, inspecting your reaction as he pushes in again, letting you get used to the feeling.

“Is it good?” his lips go back to your neck, kissing his way up to your lips.

“S-so good,” you smile against his mouth, “you can go on.”

And he moans against yours before adding another one, two digits inside you.

The thing about Yoongi is: he is a pleaser. He likes making his partners feel good and the way your lips part as he pushes into your pussy makes him weak. He knows that if you asked him to finger you all night he would, no questions asked.

But he also knows you don't have much time. That's why you are still sitting on his lap and not laying on his bed, and why he kept your clothes on even if is now regretting it.

His eyes travel down your body, to your hand in a fist with the fabric of your clothes. “Pull it up, doll.” Yoongi requests. “Your skirt. Let me see you.”

You do, the carmine color on your cheeks even deeper as your sight is filled with his hand movements.

“...so hot, taking my fingers so good.” He murmurs, hand on your lower back holding you in place as he picks up the peace. Feeling how your walls tighten around him every time he pushes in and his dick requests attention at the thought of fucking you properly. If only he had time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuc-” is your new mantra as his fingers move expertly, breaking into incohesive moans when they touch the bundle of muscle that makes you see stars.

“I got you,” he says, “f-fuck, so pretty, baby.” Yoongi's voice is so gentle and still filled with lust as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, getting you closer and closer to the end. “C’mon, let me see you cum, y/n.”

And that's all you need, hear your name so out of breath, to practically hit your orgasm on command. Head tilted back and lip between your teeth to suppress any noises, ignoring the voice of reason in your head that tells you is a bit late for that.

When you open your eyes again Yoongi's fingers are back in his mouth, sucking yourself off of them, and even if you just reached your high, you can't help the way your pussy reacts to that.

Catching you staring, he winks at you.

And before you can decide the next move, your ringtone fills the silence, almost making you jump out of his lap. He chuckles, “Careful,” freeing you from his hands as you reach for your phone.

“Yes?” You answer, free hand fixing your clothes and putting black strains in place, trying to shake the feeling of being caught.

“Hi. Sorry about the time, my flight got canceled and then the next one took hours and—” taking the phone away from your ear, you realize that in the heat of the moment you didn't even notice it was an unknown number and not one of the guys. You're about to say they probably got the wrong number but the person keeps talking and it feels rude to just cut them off. “...but I'll have to wait until tomorrow. So apparently you're the only one with a key now and they said you were here but I knocked and well, I don't know if you were sleeping or…?”

It takes you a second to process they do want you to talk now. “Sorry. I don't think I'm who you're looking for.”

“Are you not y/n?”

“Yes…” you turn to Yoongi, confused expression matching yours. “Who are you?”

“Oh, shit. I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I?” You nod even if it can't be seen through the phone, “I'm Subin. Your new roommate.”

A/N: AAAAAAHHHHHH pls don't call Subin a cockblocker ㅠ^ㅠ even if she would call herself that if she knew hahah. A/N 2: ALSO, I decided to try something new with the format of showing the texting, so please tell me your opinion, do you like it as screenshots or prefer it to be typed down? or is the same either way? Send a tip on ko-fi?? ( Only if you can and don't feel pressured to do it! )

♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @nariee02 , @sexytholland , @itsmina29 , @ktownshizzle , @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d , @kimtaehussy .

➪ 01 ・ 02 ・ 03 | ➪ Tag for TCT verse | ♡ Tag list ➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Pinned | ➪ Ko-fi

80 notes · View notes

2cupids · 2 years

Text

pairing: stalker ex boyfriend mark x fem reader

genre: smut, mdni.

wc: 979

warnings: knife play?, pet names, mentions of harassment and a break-in, unprotected sex, noncon to dubcon, degration, oral (m receiving)

a/n: i know i’m a little but happy new year everyone 🫶🏾! i meant to post this earlier but i was debating on whether or not i liked this enough to post it plus it was originally 3k+ words lol. i won’t lie i’m nervous since this is this is my first drabble/real writing but hopefully y’all like it

mark hovers over your sleeping figure before sitting next to you on the bed. he taps your shoulder and leans down to whisper in your ear, “baby? baby wake up, it’s me.”

you think you’re just dreaming but the unmistakable feeling of warm breath against your skin wakes you up.

you’re frozen in fear. you live alone but someone’s in your home, in your bedroom. you replay the voice in your head, it’s a familiar voice. you recognize who the voice belongs to and your blood runs cold. it’s your ex-boyfriend, mark.

“i know you’re awake. open your eyes please baby.”

you open your eyes and it is indeed your ex. your eyes meet his doe ones and a devilish grin spreads across his lips.

“don’t scream or i’ll slit your throat,” and that’s when you realize that the cold blade of a knife is pressing into your throat.

he pulls the covers off your body and moves the knife away from your neck, dragging it down your body, agonizingly slow.

“i missed you so much. did you miss me too?”

you’re still in disbelief and you fail to give mark an answer. he presses the point of the knife into your thigh, threatening to cut into the soft skin.

“i asked did you miss me?” the softness of his voice is gone and a look of disdain has replaced the grin that was present a mere seconds ago.

“i– i did, i missed you so much.”

he removes the knife from your thigh and places it on the pillow next to you. his free hand comes up to hold your chin as he gazes into your eyes and you wonder if he can tell how frightened you are.

he leans forward, bringing his lips down to meet yours. you forget he has a knife and without thinking you turn your head away from him. he pauses for a moment before forcibly turning your head back to face his.

“you know i would never hurt you, right baby? you know that, right?” his voice softens once again.

you nod your head and this time when he goes in for a kiss, you don’t turn away. his mouth ravishes yours, he can’t get enough. his tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip before biting it. you gasp and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue explores your mouth while the hand that was previously on your chin, makes its way down to play with your tits.

you whimper at the sudden attention to your tits and mark smiles into the kiss before pulling away to undo his belt. it finally hits you as to why he’s here.

he tugs at your underwear, wanting you to raise your hips. you hesitantly bring a hand up to rest on his shoulder, your voice shakes as you speak, “i don’t– i don’t want this.”

“i’m not going to hurt you. i’m just going to put the tip in, alright? i just want to feel you. don’t you think i deserve that after what you’ve done to me? you ignored my calls and texts, even my voicemails! then you blocked me and changed your number,” he chuckles, “you went as far as getting a restraining order against me. do you know how that made me feel?!”

he’s crazy, he’s obsessed with you. you don’t owe him anything, but given the fact that he’s broken into your apartment, violated the restraining order, and has a knife with him and who knows what else, you’re in no position to deny him. you shake your head, giving him the go ahead but mark wants to hear you say it. “use your words babygirl.”

“i’m sorry. you do deserve that much.”

that’s all he needs to hear because as soon as your panties are off, he pushes the tip in and he stays like that for a minute, with just the tip inside. you enjoy the slight burn of being stretched out so much that you almost don’t notice that he’s bottomed out in you.

“mark, w-what are you doing? y-you said you would only–“ your voice breaks before you can finish your sentence, he lied to you.

he stops thrusting into you, staring into your eyes with a spine-chilling look, menacingly laughing in your face, “you dumb little whore.”

he resumes his movements and a tear escapes your eye. you don’t want this, but you’d be lying if you said it doesn’t feel good having his dick inside you.

you find yourself wrapping your arms around mark’s neck, pulling him closer and telling him you need to feel more of him. he brings both your knees to your chest, fucking you deeper and repeatingly hitting your sweet spot.

“you’re disgusting. who else would enjoy getting fucked by their stalker?,” he pants, “you didn’t even fight back. you know, i think you wanted this. didn’t you slut?”

his words affect you more than they should and you let out one final moan before your vision goes blurry and pure ecstasy washes over you.

when you come down from your high, mark is still fucking you, chasing after his release. he mumbles something under his breath before he pulls out and tells you get on your knees and suck him off.

you tease his tip before taking as much of him as you can in your mouth and jerking off the rest of his length. he slaps your cheek and you pull away, seconds later he’s covering your face in cum.

he looks at his work before he grabs your chin, making you look up at him, “so pretty,” he murmurs.

he helps you stand up and tells you to get back on the bed, he’s not done with you. you know it’s going to be a long night, but you’re looking forward to it.

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #mark lee #mark lee smut #nct hard hours #nct scenario #nct x reader

1K notes · View notes

arcadian-litterateur · 8 months

Text

sick of kissing you in my head (when can it be real instead?) | modern au!gally x fem!reader

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

summary: your boyfriend, gally, is across the country, and despite the struggles a long distance relationship can bring, your love is strong enough to carry you through the long distance season of your relationship. but spending your birthday without him is different than spending normal days separated, and you know deep down that nothing will make you happy on your birthday when he’s all you need.

word count: 8k holy—i really didn’t even realize how long this was till i checked the wc omg

warnings: emotional meltdown, mention of anxiety and anxiety meds, brief mention of panic attacks

a/n: hey guys! i love love love the song this is based off of: all i need (the distance song) by avery lynch. it's such a good song. this was supposed to just be fluff about visiting your bf gally, and then it turned into a whole thing lol. so yeah, i hope you guys enjoy this long ass one shot. i really really enjoyed writing it.

“𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦. 𝘪𝘧 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪’𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥. 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥.”

𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥 onto my side, legs brushing against my sheets, I smile at the FaceTime call on my phone, but it's bittersweet. On the other end of the video call sits my boyfriend, the soft smile on his face mirroring my own. From where he sits, I can see the San Francisco skyline out his hotel window, highlighted by the rising sun.

“I miss you,” I mumble, studying the lines and contours of his face and wondering if they've changed since the last time I saw him in person. If I've missed any change; any detail while we've been separated. If anything has changed or tipped the balance since we've been apart.

I'm not insecure in my relationship with Gally, but be long distance for enough time and everyone gets in their head about it. Catches themselves wondering; doubting.

“I miss you more every time we have to part,” I add, watching the bitter take over the sweet in my boyfriend's eyes for a few seconds before he replies.

“I know, baby, I know.” His gaze wanders into the space between the atoms, his mind leaping forward into the future as he assures both me and himself, “Once my contract with WCKD Enterprises is up, I'll be able to move back to Denver. We'll be back in the same city.”

My smile is tired, only half there, and Gally knows it. It's been months since I've held him in my arms. This long distance routine is wearing us both out. We're both running out of steam—not for each other; not for our relationship, but for the complexity that being long distance has brought to our relationship. Conflicting schedules, spotty internet, the deprivation of physical contact with the person we crave it from the most…it's all beginning to pile up, and we both know it.

In an attempt to change the subject, I ask, “When is your flight back to Chicago again?” I already know, but I'm not sure what else to say, and besides, it's always good to check.

“Your birthday,” comes the cheeky reply, my eyes rolling of their own accord as I secretly admire the handsome grin on my boyfriend's face. But all too soon, his grin fades.

“I'm sorry I can't be there for your birthday,” he says gently. I wave him off, assuring him that I'll be just fine.

“Bren, Tes, and Sony are planning something. Won't tell me what, though.” I sigh before admitting, “It won't be the same without you. But your work's important.” Gally smiles gratefully, but there's cracks in the smile, and my stomach sinks. Guilt over my last comment settles in my digestive tract. “Sorry,” I mumble.

“No, no, don't apologize,’’ Gally says quickly. “You're allowed to be sad that I can't be there.” His amiable grin morphs into a scowl, “Tried to get Janson to give me the time off, I really did. But that rat wouldn't do it.” I give Gally what I hope is a reassuring smile.

“It's okay, babe.” We fall into silence, not necessarily comfortable, but not bad either, before Gally interjects,

“It'll be nice to be in my own apartment, though. I'm getting sick of all these Californian hotels. I'll be glad to be home, smog and noisy L-trains galore.” I chuckle, knowing that Gally loves Chicago because of its quirks, not in spite of them.

Still, Denver has always been home to me. But Gally and I've decided to cross that bridge when we get to it. We've got enough to think about as it is.

I'm trying to come up with another conversation topic, since I don't have work until later today, but unfortunately, Gally isn't so lucky. It’s the perks of working from home as a crisis hotline counselor, I guess. The hours aren’t as demanding, since the work itself is.

“Shoot, I have to go,” he hisses. “I'm sorry, princess. I'll call you tonight?” I nod, forcing myself to look forward to tonight's call, rather than be sad that this one is ending. “Alright, good that,” Gally grins. “I love you, babe!”

“I love you, Gal,” I smile and wave goodbye. The half-baked grin melts right off my face once he's hung up. Gosh, I miss him so much.

There's only so much comfort a video call can give.

Teresa calls me soon after Gally hangs up, blabbering on and on about a date she'd had with some guy named Ben, but I can't focus on her stories like I normally would. Usually, I'm all in to hear my friend's tales, but my mind is still fixated on the miles separating Gally and I. Something in me wonders how much longer we'll be able to go without holding each other. How much longer we can stand to be separated.

When we first started dating, I could have gone months, as long as we were still interacting. But as my love for Gally increased, the length of time I could stand to be without him decreased.

I'm fully, unashamedly in love with Gally now, and part of me wonders what I would do to be living in the same place as him. To be in his arms for good. The easy answer—the most raw answer—is anything. I'd do anything for him.

“(Y/N)?” Teresa's voice brings me out of my thoughts, her suspicious tone confirming that she's noticed my lack of focus today. “You weren't listening, were you?” To an outsider, her tone might sound harsh; reproachful, even, but I know her too well. She's not mad. Just annoyed she'll have to repeat her story if she wants me to hear it.

“I'm sorry,” I mumble, and it's sincere. I am sorry that I lost focus. But I don't apologize for pining after my faraway boyfriend. There's no reason to, for one, and two, I won't ever apologize for thinking of him. For missing him.

Teresa is grinning at my distracted tone, I can tell. Even through the phone, I can tell. “You're good. Dreaming about your bae, aren't you?”

I don't hesitate to admit, “Yes. I miss him more than I thought was even possible.” I hear Teresa's hum from the other end of the phone.

“You need to see him,” she declares. I scoff.

“Believe me, I know, and we're trying to figure out when he can next visit, but we're both just so busy.” Teresa clucks her tongue, the sound distorting oddly through the phone speaker. I imagine it running across the telephone poles, through the wires, twisting and bending and knotting out of shape as it flies all the way to me.

“I didn't mean like that, (Y/N). You need to go see him.” I chuckle, I wish I could.

“He's busy, Tes. Besides, he isn't even in Chicago right now,” I reason. This doesn't deter her.

“Well, when will he next be in Chicago?”

“His flight's on my birthday.”

“That's perfect!” Teresa squeals.

“How is that perfect?” I huff.

“You can fly out and spend your birthday with him! Surprise him!”

I actually laugh at this. “Um, no, I can't. I don't have the kind of money to just throw down for plane tickets. Besides, weren't you, Brenda, and Sonya planning something?”

“Well, yeah, but we could always change plans if we needed to,” Teresa says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. On any other day, I would entertain this kind of silly daydreaming, but today, I already felt lonely enough.

“Sorry, Tes. Those spontaneous decisions are not my cup of tea,” I sigh, and I think she can tell I'm shutting the conversation down. She lets it go, and I thank her silently, forcing the ache in my heart left by Gally's absence to venture to the back of my mind. If I waste the day away, it'll be evening again, and then he'll call, just like he said.

And so despite the fact that I know wasting the days away is bad for me, I do it anyway. Just today, I tell myself. Just today.

Of course, I know I'll do it again tomorrow, and the next day, and all the hours in between my calls with Gally. It's ridiculous, how they all say having space helps one think clearer, when having space just distracts me by making me miss him that much more.

When he's gone, I'm reminded that much more that he's all I need.

_______________________________

𝗜𝗧’𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡 p.m. by the time Gally calls, his eyes lighting up when he sees me despite the exhausted, burnt out look on his face. I'm equally as ecstatic as he is to revel in the gaze of my lover, both of us simply brushing every inch of each other's faces with our eyes, memorizing each other for the millionth time. It won't be the last time, either. I could never get tired of scanning my gaze across his skin, memorizing every inch of his beautiful face.

In our current situation, it's the closest I can get to kissing every inch of his beautiful face.

Gally is the first to break the silence, and I'm okay with it. He's the one who's had a long day. He knows what he needs to talk or not talk about. I just love hearing his voice.

“How was your day, baby?” he asks, a tired sort of happiness seeping into his voice. Like I'm giving him some kind of rest just by smiling at him.

“It was good. Uneventful.” I shrug, knowing that I'd barely moved from the chair I occupied now. “The real question is, how was your day, my love?”

Gally grins at the pet name. He always does. It's the same reaction that I have whenever he uses terms of endearment on me. It's our own personal love language of sorts. How many different ways can I call you mine?

“My day was okay,” Gally says quietly, sighing when he sees the look on my face. The one that tells him to lay it on me; rant if it'll make him sleep better tonight. “Well, it was…mediocre,” he amends, running a hand through his short hair. “Tim was being an ass. As always.” I nod sympathetically, understanding the deep hatred he harbors for his coworker.

Why Gally doesn't like Tim, I'm not exactly sure, but I know it has something to do with taking credit for a project that Gally did all the work on. It resulted in a harsh lecture from their boss for Gally, who was presumed to have slacked off, and a promotion for Tim.

Anyone who knows Gally knows that he would never slack off. He takes duty and work seriously; more seriously than anyone else I've met, in fact. I know my boy. He wouldn't hurt his company's productivity, even if his boss is an asshole like Janson.

“I'm sorry Tim was giving you trouble, baby,” I croon, watching the aches and tension of the day seeping out of his stiff shoulders at the sound of my voice. His smile weaves its way back onto his face. It's a soft, vulnerable smile, the one that makes me want to take him in my arms and just hold him like the precious treasure he is.

“I wish I could hug you,” Gally groans, rubbing his chin with his fingers before trying to regain his composure. “Sorry…I don't mean to bring everything up again. I just…I just miss you.” My comforting smile wobbles, knowing that those same thoughts are eating away at me inside, but I bring the happy thoughts back to the surface and my grin rights itself.

“Soon, love, soon,” I murmur, knowing I can't truly promise anything with how busy our lives have become. But soon doesn't have a time slot or expiration date. I can promise soon and define it later. All I know is that it brings a smile to my boy's face, and that's what I need right now.

We spend the rest of the night talking, lifted by the promise of Soon, love, soon, knowing that it could very well mean a long, long time.

_______________________________

𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠𝗦 in my bedroom window, blinding me when my eyes flicker open. But once I blink away the black spots in my vision, I see that the sunlight isn't the only reason I was pulled from the comforting arms of sleep.

Brenda, Teresa, and Sonya are standing at my bedside, my sheets in a bunched up ball in Sonya's hands. I groan, trying to roll away, but Bren, ever the fearless one, grabs my shoulder and pulls me back to face them.

“Get up, (Y/N). No spending the day moping,” she orders. I heave out an exaggerated sigh, making my body intentionally limp as Brenda and Teresa each grab one of my arms, pulling me upright until I have to support my own weight.

“Sometimes I really regret giving you guys my apartment passcode,” I comment, leading Sonya to pinch my arm. I yelp, rubbing the red mark as I get manhandled out of my pajamas and into a new outfit by my best friends. “What—what are you crazies doing?” I splutter, quickly taking the pair of jeans from Teresa's hands before she can try to shove them on my legs, opting to put them on myself.

“We aren't letting you mope around until Gally visits. Who knows how long that would be? It's not healthy,” Sonya explains, linking an arm through mine as the three girls drag me to the bathroom. Brenda shoves my toothpaste-loaded toothbrush into my hand as Tes starts pulling my hair brush through my hair.

“Ow,” I complain around a mouthful of toothpaste suds, pulling away from Teresa's assault on my tender scalp momentarily to spit. She and Sonya make quick work of my slightly frizzy hair, tag teaming it to create a fun yet elegant braid.

“Beautiful,” Sonya sighs, leaning back to admire her handiwork. Brenda, on the other hand, seems to have some kind of mental checklist, full of all the tasks she must see me complete.

“Breakfast is next,” she commands, and I find myself being pulled into my kitchen, watching helplessly as my friends dive into making us a scrumptious, sugary feast.

I have to admit, the fluffy blueberry pancakes filling my stomach certainly make venturing out into the world much easier than I expected. I only feel the need to text Gally three times before leaving my apartment with my friends, rather than the usual five to ten. Whether these texts are to let him know I'm fine or to make sure he's fine, I've never been able to figure out. Maybe they're both. Either way, it's a good thing Brenda shoved my meds into my hand before breakfast.

When I'm here alone, I don't take them. Sometimes I skip them on purpose, sometimes I just forget. But either way, I don't take my anxiety meds unless Brenda is there to shove them down my throat. Thinking about it, I'm grateful she's here to force me to take them today. With all of these mixed up feelings about being separated from Gally for so long, having more control over my anxiety will be good.

A day shopping with my best friends is a good distraction from the painful loneliness I've been feeling without Gally. It's not exactly a cure, but it's close. My friends know this; know their own limitations, and so they do the best they can.

And I'm so grateful that they've put in the time. Put in the effort. All for me.

“Thank you,” I whisper to them as we sit in our favorite coffee shop, sipping oat milk lattes.

“Of course,” Brenda immediately responds.

“We love you,” Sonya adds.

“We know we aren't your boy,” Teresa chimes in, “but we're your best friends, and that means we stick by you. No matter what.” She leans over to rub my arm. “When you're down, I'm down. We wanted to help pick you back up.”

The smile on my face is genuine for the first time in a long time, knowing that my friends love me enough to support me despite having the knowledge that they can't give me everything I need. They give what they can, and accept me when it doesn't fix everything.

I haven't always had friends this good, and I look up at the sky, thanking the heavens that I've been blessed with such good friends now.

_______________________________

𝗧𝗪𝗢 𝗗𝗔𝗬𝗦 before my birthday, I can’t get Teresa’s half-joking, hare-brained idea out of my head. Realistically, I know that the likelihood that I could find a flight on my birthday to Chicago that isn’t full (or way too expensive) is slim. Realistically, I know that I don’t have the money for plane tickets right now. Realistically, I know that flying halfway across the country on a whim to see my boyfriend is ridiculous.

But when Gally sends me his flight information, knowing I like to watch his progress and get confirmation when he lands safely, I find myself checking flights from Denver to Chicago, telling myself it’s just out of curiosity. Because what if there is a flight to Denver from Chicago on my birthday? What if there is a possibility that I could see Gally on my birthday? What if there is a chance that I could have this gift; the only one I truly want?

If there’s even a chance to see Gally on my birthday, I want to know.

Gally’s flight information is pulled up on my phone, which is next to me on my desk as I scroll through flights on my laptop. My right thumbnail is between my teeth, bitten down to the quick and then some. It seems that flying is a popular travel option right now, as flights are filled even into places like Dawson County, Montana. Every flight I find from Denver to Chicago is either full or too expensive for someone just out of college, like me. The cheapest is $374, and I know rationally that blowing through that much money would be devastating for my finances.

I swear under my breath, angry at myself for even getting my hopes up. It was a stupid idea to check the flights, and I find myself wishing I could go back in time to stop myself from looking. The disappointment grows even larger knowing that there would be a way to get to him if I wasn’t a broke post-college student making minimum wage in the Mile-High City. Then the disappointment and anger melt away, leaving me with a heart wrenching sadness that feels so empty and yet so all-consuming that I can’t help but break down into tears.

I don’t want to let myself cry about a silly daydream that was unlikely to happen anyway, but I’d let myself entertain the thought of seeing Gally soon; of holding him close and kissing him until we couldn’t breathe, and now everything else seemed pale in comparison. It wasn’t that my life had no purpose outside of him—I’d made it very clear when we started dating that the two of us needed to make sure we had lives outside of our relationship, too. But Gally had become a part of me; my favorite part of me, in fact. I was perfectly happy with the life I had, but Gally made it even sweeter. And knowing that sweetness was mine but was inaccessible made the absence of it even more palpable. Even more unbearable.

Crumpled into a heap on my floor with tears slowly leaking from my eyes is how Teresa finds me when she opens my door fifteen minutes later. “Hey, girl—” she calls before seeing me, rushing to my side with a worried, “Oh, my gosh, what’s wrong, (Y/N)?” I just shake my head, the waterworks turning back up to full blast.

“I miss him so much,” I sob as she gathers me in her arms, unable to care that I sound pathetic.

“Oh, I know, darling, I know,” Teresa coos, rocking back and forth with my shaking body, whispering comforting words into my ears just like she always does when I get so worked up. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, hand flying up to wipe the snot from my nose, but of course, the minute it’s gone, more replaces it. I’m past the point of an easy calm-down, instead finding myself close to the edge of hyperventilating. Thankfully, Teresa isn’t a stranger to my emotional meltdowns, and she isn’t afraid of them, either. Instead, she’s the kind of friend who will take my hand and guide me through it.

“Did you take your meds this morning?” she asks cautiously, to which I shake my head in embarrassment. Tears are still pooling in the corners of my eyes as I manage to get out,

“I’m sorry.”

Teresa just shushes me calmly. “Don’t apologize. It’s in the past now. I just wanted to know.” I nod shakily, the soothing pressure of her hand rubbing my arm helping me steady my breaths slightly. “What set you off?” she queries, squeezing me a bit tighter when the tears speed up again.

“I—I decided to check the flights for my birthday,” I answer, sniffling as my best friend strokes my hair lovingly. “It was stupid, because it just made me upset. They’re all too expensive, and I knew they would be, and it just made me miss him so much more.” Admitting it out loud makes me feel even dumber, the guilt creeping into my stomach. “I did this to myself,” I mumble. Subconsciously, my nails find their way to my arms, digging into the delicate skin and leaving pink crescents behind. Teresa pulls my hands away from my arms quickly.

“Stop blaming yourself. You did nothing wrong. I would’ve done the same, (Y/N).” I know she’s trying to comfort me, but I just squeeze my eyes shut.

“Yeah, and it wouldn’t have caused you to end up on the floor like a pathetic child.”

“(Y/N)! Stop!” Teresa scolds me. “Stop with the negative self-talk.” I try to protest, but she fixes me with that no-nonsense look that can get anyone to agree to anything, and I find myself nodding meekly. “None of this is your fault. You’re in a difficult situation, being separated from your boyfriend, and your heart isn’t sure how to handle it. That’s okay. You don’t have to know how to handle it perfectly yet.” I sigh, leaning into my best friend’s shoulder, feeling slightly calmer now. She always knows the right words to say when I’m in too deep to think straight.

Teresa coaxes me into the kitchen to drink hot chocolate once my breathing has steadied somewhat. She’s looking at me with an odd look that I can’t quite place, as if she’s…proud of me?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask warily over the top of my steaming mug. My best friend grins, staring at me for a couple more seconds before replying,

“You’re just, like, the strongest person I know.” My face turns what I assume is beet red at the compliment, not expecting such high praise from the woman who just held me in her arms as I sobbed like a baby. But then again, Teresa is special. She doesn’t judge based on outward appearances or impressions. She can see right into the heart of people, as if she can sense their goodness; their potential, and then she nudges them down that path. Helping them choose the sunshine. The good side. The light.

Knowing her compliment is slightly overwhelming, Teresa shrugs and changes the subject so fast I think I get whiplash. “You should call Gally,” she suggests. “Tell him that you were missing him and ask him for some love.” I cringe, turning away from her.

“I don’t want to make him feel bad that he isn’t here. I think I’ve already done that too much this week.”

Teresa scoffs, “That’s nonsense. He’ll be happy that you reached out to him after your meltdown. He’ll be touched that you wanted to let him know how you’re doing. He’ll feel honored that you’re willing to be vulnerable with him.” I know deep down that she’s right; that the only thing he’d do is make me feel better. Never after calling Gally do I feel worse. I know I’m just scared to hurt him, but he always assures me that I don’t need to harbor that fear. I don’t need to hold onto that anxious voice in my head that whispers, You don’t deserve him.

I can even imagine him next to me if I try hard enough, murmuring, “You’re perfect, baby,” when I grow insecure. Whispering, “I’m so lucky to have you” in my ear when I doubt myself.

“Okay,” I agree, letting Teresa take my phone and FaceTime him. Despite the fact that it’s the middle of the work day, Gally picks up on the first ring, a concerned look decorating his handsome face.

“Teresa? Wha—”

“She’s fine!” Teresa rushes to assure him, motioning for me to join her on the couch. I pop my head into the frame, wincing as I see how swollen and puffy my face is. Gally’s forehead immediately creases upon seeing me, obviously still worried when he sees the tear stains on my cheeks.

“Babe, are you okay?” he asks. Teresa silently asks if I want to take the phone, but I shake my head. My hands are still slightly shaky, and holding the phone is an added stressor. Teresa understands and angles the phone towards me.

“Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry,” I whisper, my boyfriend’s shoulders relaxing only slightly. “I just had a bit of a meltdown. Teresa found me and helped me calm down.” Gally’s eyebrows soften, his mouth tilting down in a sympathetic frown.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “What happened?”

“I just miss you,” I mumble sheepishly after a second’s pause. It seems kind of silly once I admit it out loud, and I start to duck my face away when Gally gets my attention.

“Hey, (Y/N), (Y/N),” he says, waiting until I’ve turned back to him before continuing, “You don’t need to feel embarrassed. I miss you, too, okay? I miss you so much. You don’t need to feel ashamed for struggling.” He waits for me to respond, and I nod slightly. Truth be told, just hearing his voice has made me feel better; stronger. There’s something about his comforting, strong tone that soothes me. Just his voice can make me truly believe in myself. I swear, this man could make me believe anything as long as he says it aloud.

“Thank you for picking up,” I smile, finding my mood lightening as a grin finds its way back onto his face. “Seeing you helped.” Gally blushes slightly, rubbing a hand along his chin.

“I’m glad I could help, baby.” Offscreen, someone gruffly commands him to get back to work, and he mutters an apology before turning back to the screen. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. But call me if you need anything, okay?” I nod, trailing my eyes over his freckles one more time as he thanks Teresa for taking care of me and then hangs up.

“It helped?” she asks, as if double-checking to make sure I truly am feeling better.

“Yeah,” I grin sheepishly. “You know what you’re talking about.” With a roll of my eyes, I joke, “You should be a counselor for a living. At this rate, you’re better than me at my own job!” Teresa just laughs.

“Well, now that you’ve cracked a joke, I know you’re feeling better.” She pulls me into a hug, and I gladly return it, silently wondering how I got blessed with such an amazing best friend.

“Hey, I’m here for you,” she reminds me one more time as she leaves, her meticulous check-ins a promise for the next few days.

“I know,” I assure her. “I promise I’ll call if I need to.”

“Good,” she says, smiling as she waves. “I love you, babes!”

“I love you, too, Tes!” Feeling a bit lighter, I wave back as I close my front door.

_______________________________

“𝗜 𝗖𝗔𝗡’𝗧—I can’t take this,” I stutter the next day, wide-eyed at the wad of cash Teresa is currently shoving into my hands. Brenda and Sonya are flanking her on either side with looks that imply they’re attempting to telepathically convince me to take the money.

“Don’t be sorry!” Brenda sighs. “Just take the money! It’s our birthday present for you!” I look back and forth between my three best friends, realizing that there is no way they’re letting me reject the money. But it feels so weird having this many fifties weighing heavily in my grasp.

“Yes, you can,” Teresa sighs exasperatedly. “Like I already told you, it’s the money we were going to spend on your celebration pooled together. But we all know you’d rather spend your birthday with Gally, and we want you to be able to, so we’re giving you the money for that plane ticket you couldn’t afford. It would be a waste to throw you a party you don’t want to be at. Helping you see your boyfriend is a much better use of that money. We all agreed.” Brenda and Sonya both nod, Teresa shoving the cash even further into my palms. I take it shakily, counting silently as I gape at them.

“But—but this is nine hundred bucks! I can’t—I can’t take this, I’m sorry!”

“Please take it,” Sonya says softly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “We want you to be able to go see Gally. We want you to enjoy this birthday. You’ll be giving a gift to us by making this impulsive choice to do what makes you happy.” My resistance gets melted away by her words, knowing that this was their tactic all along. Get (Y/N) all toughened up to the ‘just take it’ ruse and then let Sonya slip under her defenses when she least expects it. But I’m not annoyed by it. Instead, I let Teresa close my fist over the cash.

Immediately, the three start cheering, but before I can even blink, they’ve moved on from celebrating and are pushing me towards my laptop where, just as I’m sure Teresa suspected, the flights from Denver to Chicago are still pulled up. Teresa obviously asked Gally to share his flight information with her, because she seems to have it memorized as she scans the flights.

“Alright, here’s the best one,” she announces after a few minutes of looking. “United, nonstop, leaving at 9:30 a.m. MT and arriving at 12:56 p.m. CT. It’s in the same terminal as Gally’s flight, and he lands at 2:23 p.m. CT, so that gives you a little over an hour to get to his gate and wait for him. Sounds good?” I nod wordlessly, still slightly in shock over the way my best friends have handled this so nonchalantly, as if their friend flying across the country on a day’s notice is just a normal part of their lives.

Sonya pulls me towards my room as Brenda takes the stack of cash back from me, mumbling that Teresa insisted they have it for show but was just planning on Venmoing the cash to me. I laugh at our friend’s antics before following an impatient Sonya, who grabs my suitcase from my closet and starts making a list of what I should pack.

“We’re not buying you a return flight,” she explains, “because we didn’t know how long you’d want to stay, and we figured you didn’t know either. Just bring your work stuff and you can work from Gally’s apartment, and use the rest of the money to buy a return ticket when you decide to come back.” I shake my head in awe at the schemes of my friends, who have obviously thought of every single anxiety I could have because of this plan and have set out to refute them.

With Sonya helping me pack, a task that would usually take me at least three hours, two cups of coffee, and a panic attack is done in under one hour, no coffee or panic attacks in sight. While I wouldn’t have minded the coffee, the no panic attack part is nice, and I decide I can live without those two cups of coffee if it means my peace of mind is intact.

And the next morning when Teresa drops me off at the airport, my medicine taken and an ample breakfast eaten, the nervous butterflies in my stomach don’t feel scary. In fact, they feel almost…exciting. And I feel crazy for doing this; for flying halfway across the country to surprise my boyfriend so I can kiss him on my birthday, but I also feel so alive.

And today, the idea of living doesn’t seem as scary anymore.

_______________________________

𝗔𝗦 𝗜 wait at my gate and sip my Starbucks latte, I answer the countless birthday texts I have already received, smiling at the overflow of love from people I talk to everyday and people I barely even know. It’s funny, knowing that there are people out there who remember my birthday but don’t talk to me otherwise. Some might feel disheartened at the idea, but I just giggle quietly to myself, wondering if I’m going crazy for feeling so lighthearted.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, I think to myself. The adrenaline from doing something so stupid and yet so exciting. Shrugging to myself, I take another large gulp of coffee, finally getting to the text from Gally. I saved it for last, knowing it would be the best one. And sure enough, as I read the message, I feel happy tears pricking my eyes. As always, he’s sweet; sappy, even, but his message also holds the serious intensity that he always has around him. It’s like an aura, telling those around him that he does everything fully and completely, never giving only half of his effort. That intensity is probably why I love reading texts from him over and over. Even if it’s a simple good morning, his texts always seem to scream I love you from between the lines.

I text Gally back, thanking him for the love he’s sent zipping along telephone lines, across the country and all the way to me. I suck the last dregs of liquid from my Starbucks cup, finally accepting that the beverage is gone as the gate attendant calls for Boarding Group 1. I find myself bouncing from foot to foot, realizing once again that I’m really doing this. I can’t bring myself to sit down as I wait for my group to be called, instead standing by the gate’s charging station, fidgeting like I’m about to run the 100 meter dash. By the time I’m boarding, I’m breathing heavily like I just sprinted up Pikes Peak. Whether from nerves or excitement, I can’t really tell, but it’s enough that the flight attendant touches my arm as she checks the cabin.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” I look up in surprise before giving her a quick grin.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous.”

She smiles empathetically. “Is it your first time flying?”

“No. I’m flying out to surprise my boyfriend, and I guess I’m just hoping it all works out like I planned,” I explain.

At this, I receive an even bigger grin from the flight attendant, who thinks that is just—“the most adorable thing ever!” I nod along, unsure whether I’m actually smiling or just masking my anxiety. Either one is a plausible explanation, and I’m pumped so full of adrenaline that all of my emotions currently feel interchangeable.

I spend the entirety of take-off nervously fiddling with the little screen in front of me, trying to distract myself. Once we’re at a constant altitude, the flight attendants offer drinks, and I ask for a ginger ale, my go-to drink on airplanes. It calms me down, the comforting security of it helping me stay rational. Unfortunately, the ginger ale combined with my anxious thoughts cause my bladder to reach its limit quite quickly.

I hate the little bathrooms on airplanes. So loud, so claustrophobic, so turbulent. It’s like trying to pee while in the middle of an earthquake. But my bladder isn’t playing games today, and the last thing I want to do is ignore it and then pee myself. The intrusive thoughts fight to take over as I rush through the motions, washing my hands as quickly as possible, but I stave them off and make it back to my seat in one piece.

The remaining hour until landing is the longest hour of my life.

When we finally touch down and taxi to our gate, all of the tension that has built up inside me feels ready to explode, but I hold it in, knowing that I can let it all out once I see Gally. It’s barely even occurred to me that I’m a year older now—that it’s my birthday—because all I can think about is getting to hold my boy.

I almost trip getting off the plane, too busy checking his flight’s progress and landing gate. His flight is still an hour and thirty minutes out, giving me more than enough time to go to the bathroom, get some food, and wait for him. I pull my suitcase behind me, so glad I decided to take everything in my carry-on, as I’m now realizing that baggage claim is outside the secure area of the airport. I break free from the flow of traffic heading in that direction, redirecting towards the bathroom.

One bathroom trip, makeup refresher, and food court scavenger hunt later, I’m standing against a column at Gally’s gate, drinking my second Starbucks latte of the day. Normally, I wouldn’t let myself indulge like this, but it’s my birthday, so I feel justified. I even treat myself to a slice of sweet bread, too. I’m too anxious to eat a full lunch. Besides, I’m sure Gally will be happy to get lunch on our way back to his apartment. He’s always willing to eat, no matter the time of day.

I’m trying my best not to look suspicious. There’s a flight leaving from this gate after Gally’s flight arrives, so I blend in, but my leg is bouncing nervously and my hands are shaking slightly. I’m a naturally energetic person, but the fidgeting increases exponentially when I’m either excited or nervous. Right now, I’m both.

Thankfully, no one seems to notice me or think I’m behaving weirdly. I’m simply overthinking, like I often do. At least it passes the time. I only have thirty minutes left to wait.

I run back to Starbucks and buy another latte. It’s gone within ten minutes, my anxious energy prompting me to gulp it down like I’m dying of thirst. Then I’m running to the bathroom again, bladder shouting angrily at me for the caffeine abuse I’ve been subjecting it to. It’s unpleasant, but it kills more time.

Ten minutes to go. I’m staring at my phone, Gally’s flight details pulled up, reloading the page over and over in hopes that magically, they’ll teleport and be here instantly. With anyone else, I wouldn’t be this obsessive; impatient, but it’s Gally. I could obsess over Gally for days on end with all the love overflowing from my heart. So I pass three minutes refreshing the page persistently, watching the minutes countdown.

I let out a quiet, barely there gasp when my phone screen tells me he’s landed. I can barely contain my excitement, nervous energy causing me to wiggle my hips like a rhythmically challenged dancer. His plane is on the ground, taxiing over, right to where I’m waiting. He’s going to walk through that gate, and I’m going to see his beautiful face, and I’m going to run and jump into my boyfriend’s arms.

All of a sudden, doubt crashes into me like a fucking tidal wave. What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if this is weird, and he’s going to be all awkward about it? What if this was one huge fuck-up? I can feel myself starting to spiral, starting to lose touch with the confidence I’ve been channeling all day. The panic has started to grow, and it surges through my veins, reaching to the tip-top of the cliff that is followed by a plunge off the deep end. Thankfully, though, with only a few minutes to spare before my boyfriend gets off his plane, a little girl in a princess dress bumps into me, hard, causing my knees to buckle and my head to snap out of the spiral it’s in.

I catch myself against the trusty column I’m leaning against, looking down to find a young girl, maybe six, wearing an Elena of Avalor dress-up costume with a stuffed animal that looks like some kind of leopard with bird wings.

“Amity!” her mother scolds her, ordering her to apologize for bumping into me. Amity looks up at me with big, brown doe eyes and a huge, genuine grin.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” she chirps. I smile back, making eye contact with her mom, before crouching down to her level and holding out a hand to shake.

“I forgive you. I’m (Y/N). Want to know something?” Amity shakes my hand, grinning widely, before looking at her mom as if to make sure it’s okay to talk to me. Her mom gives a gentle nod, a kindness in her eyes as they meet mine. “Well, Amity, you actually helped me just now. I was feeling super duper nervous and it was making me get shaky and worried. But then you bumped into me, and I saw your smile, and it made me feel a lot better!”

I can tell Amity’s mother is touched, and I make sure to assure her that I’m doing better. That Amity’s little scuffle with my legs was truly helpful. And then Amity and her mom are on their way, Amity’s tight hug and whisper of “You look like a princess” giving me the last boost of confidence I need.

Right as I finish waving goodbye to the adorable little girl, I hear the sounds of passengers starting to come down the jetway. I suck in a sharp breath, making sure my small suitcase and jacket are safe by the column before stepping closer to the junction between gate and jetway, watching passengers closely as they start to trickle into the airport.

It’s no surprise that I can pick Gally out of the crowd immediately after he walks out of the jetway, his head easily peeking over every other passenger. He doesn’t see me at first, focused on trying not to trample the small toddler whose family is trying desperately to get him to behave as they walk in front of my boyfriend.

I wait until he’s right there, just the toddler’s family in front of him, to call his name. “Gally!” His head snaps up, eyes scanning the surrounding area before settling on me, his jaw going slack, falling open in surprise as the toddler’s family quickly moves out of the way.

It’s like we’re living in slow motion, the way I watch Gally’s backpack slide out of his hand and hit the floor with a thump, his look of shock morphing into a state of joyous disbelief, as if he’s not sure he’s truly seeing me. He looks frozen in this state, unable to move towards me, but I don’t care. I’m already running up to him, happy tears gathering in my eyes as I jump into Gally’s arms, my head burying itself in his neck before I lean up to kiss him with all the pent-up love, tension, and nerves that have been coursing through my body all day.

His lips are warm just like they always are, soft and full and inviting as we kiss passionately; shamelessly, right in front of everyone waiting to board their flight. I can’t bring myself to care, anxiety nowhere to be found now that I’m here. In his arms. Held tightly, kept safe, flooded with warmth, just like I’m supposed to be.

He pulls away first, still in shock as he scans my face, as if expecting to find some imperfection that reveals me as a doppelganger. “Baby—” he chokes out, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes, my own tears rolling down my cheeks. “Baby, you’re here.” He lets out a giddy, confused laugh, cupping my cheek with his hand as he wipes the remnant saltwater away with his thumb.

“You’re—you’re here. In Chicago,” he repeats, putting my feet back on the floor so I can stand there with my arms around his neck, his other hand coming up to cup my other cheek. “You’re—it’s your birthday!” he says, and I can’t tell if it’s another reason he’s confused I’m here, or if it’s just an observation. Well, probably both, so I just giggle.

“Yes, Gally, it’s my birthday.”

“But—did you—when did you get here?” he asked, bewildered, a lovestruck, excited smile lighting up his whole face. I run my hands through his hair, admiring his gentleness as he cradles my face in his palms.

“An hour and a half ago, I think. I’m not sure the exact timing,” I shrug. He gasps.

“You flew on your birthday?” I give him an odd look.

“Yes…why? Is that illegal or something?” Gally chuckles through the joy-filled tears still drifting down his face every once in a while.

“No, baby. I just thought—most people wouldn’t be willing to fly or even be at an airport on their birthdays. Don’t you have cool stuff to do? Fun people to see?” I shake my head, pulling him as close as I can, our lips hovering inches apart.

“You’re the only person I wanted to see. This is my birthday present.”

Gally’s eyes water even more as he presses his forehead to mine, running his hands through my hair. “Baby, I—” He pulls away to wipe a tear from his eye and then leans back down, pressing a gentle peck to my forehead, “I love you so much.”

“I love you even more, Gally,” I whisper back, staring into his teary eyes with my watery own. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Not possible.”

“It is, too,” I giggle, still whispering as I press a kiss to his lips, “and I’m the birthday girl, so you have to let me win the arguments today.”

“Oh, that’s how that works,” Gally laughed, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Well, I suppose I can let you win this one, since you did fly all the way to Chicago on your birthday.”

“Oh, but that was selfish,” I smiled. “I wanted to see you. I needed to see you. It was purely selfish.” Gally just hugged me tighter, pressing kisses to the top of my hair as he admitted quietly,

“Well, I needed to see you, too. I needed to have you in my arms.” I relax into the warmth of my boyfriend’s chest, the material of his hoodie tickling my nose. I endure it because it smells like him, and that makes it the most calming aroma in the world.

“Being in your arms is all I need. You are all I need,” I whisper.

I kiss him again, a loving, sweet kiss, reveling in the presence and taste of my boyfriend, a sense of peace and safety wrapping its warm arms around me.

Nothing else matters in this moment. Not my job, or my life in Denver, or my birthday. All that matters is that I am here, in my boyfriend’s arms. In Gally’s arms.

Right where I’m supposed to be.

the end

144 notes · View notes

hihello-pinky · 10 months

Text

part one ,, last part

i’m still stuck on Sight part 4 but heyyy i got kinda inspired to make this pt 2.

will post part 3 hopefully before the year ends lol.

not edited/written at 3am

8:50 PM

suna watches as osamu guides you out of the restaurant with a hand on your lower back. he hears atsumu whistle across him. “i swear to god, if my idiot of a brother won’t make a move on y/n, i will.”

he resists shaking his head, knowing that atsumu already has eyes on someone else, but he doesn’t bring it up. instead, his brows furrow, concern about you starting to cloud his mind.

he’s always been observant of you. it was only after he began dating hani that he started to spend less time looking at you. that was a few months ago and yet, he wonders why he wasn’t able to tell that you were feeling unwell.

“are you okay, love?” hani asks beside him, breaking him out of his reverie.

“yeah…”

something passes along her face but he’s not able to catch it and what it can mean. instead, hani gives his hand a squeeze. he knows it’s meant to be reassuring but to suna, it feels as if he’s being held back from running towards something that he has always wanted.

QUESTIONS

suna always looked forward to practice and to say it’s purely because of volleyball would be a lie. sure, he loved the sport, but his excitement towards practice was amplified by something else – the thought of seeing you.

he wasn’t sure when he began to develop feelings for you that crossed the boundaries of platonic friendship. maybe it’s the way that whenever you would pass by their room, you’d look through the window and give him your sweet smile. maybe it’s the way you would always scold the twins during lunch whenever they get engrossed in their banter rather than eating. maybe it’s the way you would tie up your hair in a messy ponytail during practice, hands busy scribbling down notes on your manager’s pad.

suna wasn’t sure but by the beginning of sophomore year, he knew in his heart that he liked you.

on that particular day, you arrived at the gym a few minutes late and he was surprised to see that you weren’t alone. another girl was with you. as you introduced to the team that she’s your friend from student council, he could feel her curious eyes on him.

hani nakamura was her name, you said.

that day after practice, he noticed you and hani pass by the convenience store where he and the twins stopped by at. he immediately but subtly went ahead outside, only to see a glimpse of you blushing as you talked to hani.

he couldn’t help but think that the two of you were probably talking about boys, hence your blush. isn’t that what girls do? that night, when he got home, suna began playing scenarios in his head on how best to confess to you.

8:55

“i’m tired,” hani says softly as she rests her head on his shoulders. it snaps suna out of his thoughts, a reminder that he’s already dating the girl beside him, who, unlike you, will never play with his feelings.

he strokes her hair gently. “should we go?”

her response is a pout and a cutely-said “yes please.”

around him, his teammates fake barfing. “you two lovebirds are so cheesy! get out of here!”

suna is unable to resist his smirk as he shakes his head. “we’ll go ahead. y’all better also leave soon before you get wasted.” to atsumu he says, “except you, idiot, since you’re already wasted.”

hani giggles beside him as she links her arm with his. they both walk towards the parking lot, hani excitedly talking about everyone’s reactions when they told them about their relationship.

once they reach his car, hani murmurs, “oh no…”

“what?” suna’s instantly alert, “what’s the matter?”

hani looks at him sheepishly as she says, “i need to run to the restroom. sorry, love. be right back!”

suna exhales in relief and smiles. “okay. be careful. i’ll start heating up the car.” he waits for her to disappear from his view before he turns towards his car but before he could open the door, something catches his eyes.

it’s you inside osamu’s car, legs bent towards your chest, body shaking. and though he can’t hear it, he knows you’re crying.

he feels a little pain by his chest as he resists the urge to run to you, to comfort you and ask what’s wrong and to just make sure that you’ll be okay.

instead, he shakes his head and refocuses on his car but not after mumbling to himself, “stupid osamu and his non-tinted windows.”

EXPECTATIONS

it felt as if the universe was against suna’s plan of confessing his feelings to you. whenever he tried to get you alone after practice, something comes up and then either you or he would need to go ahead.

it was beginning to frustrate him. it didn’t help that on your non-busy days, your friend, hani, was always tagging along. after the first time, hani’s visits during their practice frequented and it soon became apparent to suna how close the two of you had become.

an idea suddenly came to suna.

since hani was close to you and it seemed as if she would never leave your side, what if he befriended her? maybe she could even give insights on and help with his confession.

he didn’t let the thought sit too long in his head; by the next time hani accompanied you to practice, suna started a random conversation. this would soon mark the beginning of their friendship.

suna admittedly only talked to hani in hopes of getting help confessing to you but what he didn’t expect was for him to actually get along well with her. once their friendship had reached a comfortable level, he finally decided to open up to her.

what he didn’t expect was the words that would leave hani’s mouth. “oh, suna-senpai, are you sure? i’m not sure if it’s my place to say, but…”

she was looking at him with sympathetic eyes, making suna feel foolish as he replayed what he had shared – about his changing feelings at the beginning of the school year, about the hints you’ve been dropping to him for the past months.

he awkwardly scratched at his nape. “well?”

hani bit her lip. “y/n-senpai actually likes someone in the volleyball team. you’re actually very close to him, maybe that’s why she was being too close to you as well…”

the end of her sentence was blurry to suna as he watched across the court how you playfully interacted with osamu.

suna’s eyes hardened as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “i see.”

11:42

suna couldn’t fall asleep. it’s been a few hours since he dropped hani off at their house but he’s still wide awake, his eyes fixed on the dull ceiling of his room.

thoughts of you swarm his mind.

after that conversation with hani many months ago, his treatment towards you never changed. he was mad at first but then realized that what you did to him had the same intention as why he even approached hani in rhe first place; the stark difference being he didn’t intend to toy with the girl’s heart.

nonetheless, he let the matter go. you were all still young and stupid anyway, and at the same time, he got too pre-occupied with his budding relationship with hani.

still, it bothered him. the sight of you sobbing in osamu’s car wouldn’t leave his mind. what could have happened to make you have a breakdown like that?

he contemplated on sending you or osamu a message just for his peace of mind and before he can decide who to text, his phone rings.

his eyes widened once he saw your contact id. he stared at it for a few more seconds before swiping right.

“y/n?”

“… hey, suna. i didn’t think you’d pick up.”

he hated how you sound stuffy but chose not to comment on it. “well… what’s up?”

a barely-concealed sniffle. “c-can we talk?”

“okay, sure. go ahead.”

“no, i mean in person. the 12th convenience store?”

he smiled at the mention of the place. “okay. see you in a few.”

“see you.”

once you hang up, suna dropped his phone on the bed and immediately went to get his favorite hoodie.

the same hoodie that you’ve been asking for him to give to you ever since he let you borrow it on one rainy afternoon.

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou #haikyuu fic #haikyuu!!#suna angst #suna rintarou angst #suna x reader

188 notes · View notes

miam0re · 2 years

Text

A Rich Man's Slut | Pantalone, Childe, Al Haitham, Ayato

Warning: Pantalone- name calling(slut), clothes ripping; Childe- name calling(whore), collaring, slight choking; Haitham- car sex, fingering, public sex, exhibitionism if you squint; Ayato- food??play (wine), nipple play. more stuff I probably missed

Pairing: Pantalone, Childe, Al Haitham, Ayato X Fem!Reader (separate)

Summary: He's a rich man and you're his sweet little girlfriend for him to use as he pleases

Mia's Notes: I wanna be a rich man's slut smh. Also the grammar and tenses are messed up so lol sorry bout that

Being the businessman he is, you’d think he’d have some care for the thousands of dollars he spends on things he likes. Things such as his sweet little darling, buying her all the prettiest dresses to wear to gatherings. You’re a trophy for your lover to flaunt and he doesn’t hold back in decorating you with the finest silk and velvet cocktail dresses. But he’s so careless, oh so careless.

“Hah! Pantalone! No!” You squeal when his hands scrunch the back of your blue satin dress with an animalistic grip. The fabric rips to shreds and loosened from your shoulder, revealing your skin to the chilling air. “That was one of my… nghhh… my favourite dresses.” Your face burns red, body grinding on his cock as it claimed your plush cunt.

He rolls his eyes and seizes the cleavage of your gown, splitting the dress from the front. Your lace-clad breasts waited for his bites and hickies, acts of when he lost his composure because of the intoxicating feeling your pussy provided him. The lace panties you wore were pushed aside to make space for his dick to impale your struggling cunt.

“Ugh, my dress.” You pout and whimper as his mouth suckled your skin. His lithe fingers danced over your breasts and neck, applying the tiniest pressure to remind you of the punishments brats get before he parted your soft lips with his thumb.

He slid a thin plastic card into your mouth, making you bite on the edge of his platinum debit card. You make a move to pull it out, but a sharp thrust rubbing against your clit made your jaw clench with a muffled cry.

“I bought one, I can buy a thousand, and it’s my choice if I want to see the dress on you or on the floor. Now be a good little slut and try to not bite my card too hard if you want to purchase more clothes of your liking.”

He’s got the money. He knows it and he makes sure everyone else knows it too. He’s driving the best cards, he’s living in the best penthouse in the city. And he has the best little girlfriend whose the perfect little whore for him. And what better way to show off his relationship with you than to adorn your neck with the most expensive jewellery money could buy.

In the privacy of your chambers, he’ll have you strip bare without a single touch to your burning skin. Your clothes are falling one at a time, leaving you in nothing but your diamond collar reflecting the dim red lights in the room. And that’s when you see a feral side of Childe.

“Sir! P-please!” Your mind is fogging, words garbling out your lips into the pillows your face was shoved into as Tartaglia ploughed into your pussy from behind, smacking his balls against your thigh with every plunge of his hips into yours. “Babe, I can barely make out a word you’re saying.” He laughed, skimming his fingers up your shaking spine, curling his pointed finger around your collar and pulling, bringing you up with his actions.

There was no doubt about the high quality collar, it was able to withstand the kinky nights you shared with your lover. He tugged and pulled until you were on your knees, your back flush against his chest with his dick twitching and hitting a new angle inside you, you could see a visible protrusion on your tummy. The way you gagged and lolled your tongue out at the pressure of the collar on your neck, Childe could have burst and cummed then and there, seeing your hazy eyes begging him to support your weight.

“Are you such a whore that you’d like the way I choke you with this collar and use you as I please? You’re so adorable. Only a whore like you is fit to wear this collar. A diamond collar for my gem of a girl."

He’s always getting invited to some or the other event, being the hotshot of the Akademiya. Everyone knows him for the academic breakthroughs he has made, for the amount of money he’s earned, and for the eye catching girlfriend who accompanies him to all the events. No exaggeration that he drags you to all the boring ‘parties’, but he always makes up for it.

His fingers are squelching so loudly, you’re embarrassed. But he lust flooding your veins overpowers every rational thought in you head. Your sitting on his lap, dress hiked up to your waist and legs spread for him to touch and prod at your sensitive hole. Your head hangs back against his shoulder, mouth agape with silent gasps being the only sounds, apart from the sucking of his lips on your neck as the sloppy sounds of Haitham finding your g-spot.

The car hits a speed breaker, making you bounce and his fingers slip out your cunt. Haitham grumbles under his breath before pinching you clit and inserting two fingers back into your hot sex. Your slick is dripping down his knuckles, soaking the cuffs of his shirt, and whatever part of your juices that dripped down were smeared across the sleek leather seats. “Haitham…slow…” you panted at how his speed increased when the car turned a corner, not too far from your destination. “Shhh, you’re doing so well. Think I can make you cum before we reach?” He hummed, knowing full well that he was capable of making your orgasm at command.

You clawed the leather seats, squeezing your legs tight as Haitham dragged his fingers into the deepest part of your cunt, making you see stars and cum all over his lap, making a mess of his fingers as he continued his thrusting till you calmed from your high.

Leaving the car to head to the party after your little, episode, he handed the driver a generous roll of cash.

“Hopefully this can pay for car wash services. And your silence.”

A fine man with fine taste. Be it in the ages old wine he drinks or the company he keeps. And in the moments he shares with you, why not have fine wine with fine company? Only, he never really is in need of wine glasses when he’s with you.

“Stay still, Dearest. This wine costs a fortune, wouldn’t want to waste a single drop, now would we?” His giggles are light, hinted with the slightest bit of intoxication from the sips of wine he’s been taking. You shiver when the cold liquid pours into your navel, Ayato’s thirst mouth latching to your naked skin and slurping the liquid with loud gulps. He doesn’t stop licking and biting your skin, even when he’s cleaned the wine off your body; he can’t help but stay for the flavour of you.

He’s finding it hard to hold back much, deciding to grab your chin and pry your mouth open and pour a small amount of the bitter liquid right on your tongue, ordering you to hold it in your mouth. His cheeks are dusted pink as he sits back and calls you on his lap, asking you to give him the wine. Directly.

Unable to disobey, you climb on his lap and tilt his head up, connecting your lips and pouring the cool liquid into his mouth through the steamy kiss. Stray drops of wine trickle down his chin, his Adams apple and slowing on his chest. He can feel how messy you’re being, shaking so much that the wine escaped the kiss, so he squeezed your nipples between his fingers in warning. Once he was satisfied with the taste of the wine (and of you) he pulled away, looking down at the mess on his chest. He sighed with mock disappointment, fingers still firmly grasping your sensitive breasts.

“Look at the mess you’ve made. Didn’t I tell you the worth of this wine? You should clean it up, or is some punishment required?”

tagging: @aijlin

#mia.writes #mia.smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #childe smut #pantalone smut #tartaglia smut #kamisato ayato smut #ayato smut #al haitham smut #haitham smut #ayato #kamisato ayato #al haitham #childe #tartaglia #pantalone

3K notes · View notes

i-think-i-thunk · 19 days

Text

steddie racing au

Okay so I have some family that do drag racing for fun and I went to see them recently and it had me thinking about a steddie au. Also bear with me cause I only know a little bit about this lol. Also also, this turned out to be really long, sorry.

So Wayne Munson buys a racetrack in the late 60s/early 70s just outside of Hawkins

He's slowly working on fixing it up and ends up with a bunch of project cars

Word gets around town and pretty soon, local car and motorcycle guys start showing up

Even some from nearby towns

They all start meeting up on the weekends, bringing their families and kids, having barbeques, etc.

Needless to say, they become a really close little community

Something something Eddie's dad sucks and he ends up moving in with Wayne at like 9 or 10 years old

Cue Wayne suddenly having a traumatized kid that he hasn't seen in years and has no idea how to take care of him

So he starts taking Eddie to the track and of course lets him name it (Hellfire Raceway)

All of Wayne's friends step up and welcome little Eddie to the group

The guys teach him how to fix up cars and bikes and show him the ins and outs of racing

The moms take one look at him, decide he needs to bulk up asap and cook more food for him and Wayne then either of them have ever seen

Plus, the kids teach Eddie how to be a kid again

Eddie grows up covered in oil and grease and dirt, spending all his free time tinkering with things and helping Wayne maintain the track and learning to race

As he's learning to restore and maintain cars, he teaches himself how to do different paint jobs and straight line detailing

And he gets to be good, really good

Eventually racing starts catching on in the rest of Indiana, and the different tracks start having competitions with each other

The Hellfire community is slowly but steadily growing

In communities as tight nit at these, new faces are easy to recognize

So when one Steve Harrington shows up with nothing but his beamer and an odd girl at his side, people are shocked

He's spoiled, rich, entitled and cocky

Or at least, the old Steve Harrington was

This Steve is different

He's quiet and reserved, only offering a small wave and a smile every now and then

He starts at the bottom like everyone else

Works his way through the time trials as he learns

A few months in, Eddie starts to get curious

He's been watching Steve stumble his way through racing

He's also happened to notice that Steve doesn't seem to know much about car maintenance

One day, after Steve's car fails on the runway, Eddie helps him and Robin steer it off the track and offers to look at it

Cue Eddie and Robin having a very animated conversation while Eds tinkers with the beamer

After a couple attempts, Robin finally manages to rope Steve into the conversation too

And wouldn't you know it, Steve's actually a pretty good guy

They end up talking for a few hours and when Eddie walks them back to the track, he takes the time to explain scoring and the different types of racing

Maybe he introduces him to some of the guys

The summer is coming to an end, and Steve and Eddie are avoiding the topic at all costs, afraid of what it might mean, worried that autumn will mark the end of whatever it is they had going

Maybe Wayne has a mechanic shop that he and Eddie run during the week and in the off season

A few weeks after the track closes, Steve shows up to talk with Eddie while he's working in the garage

Watches in awe as Eddie works on engines and paints intricate details onto beautiful cars, always with a steady hand

And Eddie is ecstatic, constantly trying to show off for Steve and flashing a bashful smile when his natural clumsiness shows

Then Eddie starts showing up at Family Video to talk with Steve and Robin

Steals a few snacks and definitely doesn't flirt with Steve

Then Eddie is invited to their weekly movie night where he meets the kids and the rest of the crew

Gets real close with Jonathan and Argyle (maybe some background Jargyle)

Starts DMing for the kids and teaching Will and Erica as he goes

Steve, Robin and Eddie are rarely seen without each other at this point

Wayne is skeptical at first but becomes fiercely protective of Steve and Robin once he really gets to know them

Endgame steddie obviously

They bring the kids to the track the next summer and end up their own little cheer squad

Chaos and antics ensue of course

Maybe they work their way up to the pros or maybe they stay and take over the shop and track together. But either way, they survive everything the world throws at them. They buy a cute little house and grow old together.

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #au #uncle wayne #wayne munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #racing au #steddie au #background jargyle #mechanic eddie munson #racer eddie munson #racer steve harrington

46 notes · View notes

p-taryn-dactyl · 26 days

Note

maybe for way down we go somehow agatha manipulates everyone/the evidence so it looks like she's innocent/falsely accused or reader has to hide her bc she doesn't want aggie to go back to jail idk I'm sorry lol i just love reading your work

way down we go: the aftermath (ii)

a/n: ok confess did you read my mind? but really, i’m so glad you sent this in bc i was wondering if the ideas i had were bad😭 but great minds think alike and so now here’s part 2 hehehe (also thank you anon! i’m so happy you enjoy my work!) edit: dear god i am so embarrassed by what i have written here but also i hope some of y'all like it?? oh god imma go climb in a hole christ maybe i should go back to church idk word count: 1.6k warning(s): first part of this fic is smut, or what i consider smut (ok idk why it's harder for me to write spicy shit on this blog when ive written it so many other times) the rest is back to normal production of murder, crime and debauchery; like a second or two of angst; im making so much of this shit up plz don't come for me

Once she started, it felt like she would never stop.

You didn’t want her to.

Your hands grasped Agatha’s neck and shoulders, trembling as she brought crashing waves of pleasure over you. With eyes screwed shut, your head leaned back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. But your wife wouldn’t allow you to rest. With the hand not pumping into you, she grasped your chin, forcing you to look at her as you pried your eyes open.

“Look at me,” her voice commanded softly as the heel of her hand pressed into your clit, drawing a surprised whimper from your lips as her pace became slow and languid, “I want to see what I do to you, what only I do to you.”

At her words, there was a question radiating in her eyes, along with a sudden hardness that took your remaining breath away. You tightened your grip on your wife, following her instructions and looking deep into her eyes.

“There was no one else, there’s always been no one else. Only you.”

Agatha nodded slightly, increasing her pace once more and looking proud of herself as your face twisted with pleasure.

“Only me.”

Agatha added a finger, continuously brushing your bundle of nerves with the heel of her hand, relishing in your moans and how you wrapped your arms even tighter around her neck, bringing a hand to tangle in her hair and bring her into a crashing kiss. A battle for dominance was quickly lost as her tongue parted your lips, devouring you. You felt your mind grow hazy from pleasure, the hot coil in your abdomen threatening to snap.

The ring of your phone interrupted everything.

You felt it buzz in your backpocket, vibrating against the wall behind you.

Agatha didn’t like your attention being taken away.

She shifted, removing her fingers from you, much to your chagrin. You only had a moment to process before you were moved. In a blur, you now sat in the very chair Agatha once sat, your legs propped over her shoulders, your phone in her hand as she handed it to you. You furrowed your brow in confusion as you watched it ring, Agatha’s eyes never leaving yours.

“Answer it, we can’t have anyone worrying for you.” There was something in Agatha’s tone that you couldn’t decipher but you couldn’t go against what she told you to do. You put your phone to your ear, hitting the answer button. Darcy’s panicked ramblings flooded out, barely giving you time to answer any of her questions.

“Did you see the news? Y/N, this is crazy. Do you think she escaped? Oh god with our luck she was behind it all! Where are you right now? Do you need company? Girl I can be over to your place so fast-”

You were quickly distracted from your best friend as you felt Agatha’s hands tighten on your thighs, pulling your pants and underwear down with her teeth. She only took a second to take in the sight in front of her, your glistening folds, wet from the pleasure she gave you. Then she dove straight in. You could barely contain your surprised squeal, slapping your free hand over your mouth.

She was relentless, fingers parting your folds as her mouth covered your entire core, tongue going straight to your clit. It was like she was doing everything to get you to fall apart before her and you were oh so close.

"...Y/N, are you ok?"

It was like Darcy was speaking to you underwater, your focus purely on how your wife's head moved between your legs. Swallowing back a moan as Agatha's tongue flattened and lapped harshly at your folds, you gave your friend an answer.

"Yeah...I'm, I'm just shaken. Can I call you la-later?"

You could practically feel Darcy's hesitation through the phone but the second she agreed you hit the hang up button. Throwing your phone onto the floor somewhere, your hands tangled in Agatha's hair, encouraging her. You felt her smirking before she removed a hand from your thigh to slip two fingers into you, almost immediately finding that electric spot within you. Paired with her lips and tongue staying firmly suctioned onto your clit, you felt your orgasm crash into you and over you. Your mind and body felt seperated as you caught your breath, Agatha peeling herself away from you, coming up to kiss your forehead. She nuzzled you with her nose for a moment, the soft action sending you into a light sleep.

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

The weeks that followed Agatha's return were nothing less than stressful. Constantly looking over your shoulder as you walked into your home, unplugging every and any device that could connect to internet, and ordering food but having them deliver to your neighbor finally made you snap one day at the lab.

You knew how to do it, you knew how to collect evidence, how to manipulate it wasn't exactly hard.

The issue was Darcy.

While she was a great friend, constantly checking in on you, making sure you were okay with your supposed serial killer ex-wife being on the run, she was the greatest obstacle in your goal.

One night, while the two of you had dinner, you mentioned this to Agatha, angry at yourself for being untruthfull to your friend.

"Well, I could always," Agatha made a gesture with her knife jokingly, smirking to herself as she cut into the steak. It was like all the air left the room, the reminder of what your wife was hitting you like a truck. At your silence, Agatha looked up, her eyes widening at your expression. With a shaking hand, you pointed at your wife and shook your head.

"No, no, you don't-" your voice broke as everything swirled around in your mind, "You don't joke about that. Definitely not about Darcy."

Agatha opened her mouth to respond but you found yourself not wanting to hear her voice. Some petty, evil, part of you called from the dark part of your mind to call the police. Turn Agatha in once more and remove the weight from your shoulders.

You ignored that thought, instead pushing your chair away from the table before Agatha could speak and walking to the bedroom, calling over your shoulder.

"I'm going to bed, I need to think."

You got into your pajamas, going through your nightly routine with a lump in your throat, like your flight or fight was being triggered. It took a while for you to notice that Agatha had yet to come to bed, the time well into the night. Making your way into the living room, you took some steadying breaths. While your reaction was valid, maybe you should've stayed to listen to what she had to say. When you crossed the threshold into the living room, you saw that Agatha had gotten some spare blankets out of a closest, making bed on the couch. She too was awake and smiled at you hesitantly when she noticed you standing in the walkway.

"I didn't know if you would appreciate my company tonight." Her voice was soft, almost as if she was trying to be careful. You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow.

"I always appreciate your company, I didn't appreciate the comment you made."

Agatha nodded, slowly getting up from the couch to come stand in front of you, holding her hands up as if she wanted to hold you.

"It's too early for jokes, I understand."

At a peculiarly pointed glare, Agatha quickly added on,

"And Darcy is off limits, of course. I would never, I mean- she's safe, totally safe."

Some part of you wanted to laugh at your flustered serial killer wife but you simply held out a hand, pulling her back to your bedroom, your plan and anxiety of tomorrow swirling in your head.

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

You'd never been more grateful for a robbery before. Since you specialized in murder or special victim cases, you were able to stay behind in the lab while Darcy and Jimmy went to case the gas station and talk to the poor teen who was at the register. You reviewed the two key pieces of evidence that were used to hammer the final nail in Agatha's coffin. A strand of hair and the blood profile. Anything else was circumstancial or based on a loose psychological profile.

The hair was easy enough to make doubtful as it wasn't a reliable source by itself. The follicle of the strand wasn't even attatched, meaning the only use this had was to be compared with a strand of Agatha's hair taken during the trial process.

One click and the hair was digitally gone.

The blood, however, was the tricky part. It was a 94% match to your wife, meaning it could either be her or a relative. You felt your stomach drop when you realized this could be the evidence that ruins everythings.

Until you noticed something.

In your report, in the other forensic report, and in the court transcript, it said the other blood profile was heavily mixed into the victims. You did a cross reference between Agatha's supposed blood and the victims, the result showing that one couldn't be distinguished from the other. Agatha's blood was triggered as the closest possible match of the two blood profiles, even though realistically the computer should've said the evidence was inconclusive.

An excuse formed in your head.

You, and your team, were so focused on catching the serial killer that had been terrorizing the town, you had overlooked key inconsistencies, instead focusing on the one true suspect you'd had on the case.

One click. The blood was deemed inconclusive.

One click, the case was reopened.

One click, all evidence of Agatha being guilty was erased.

One click, no one would know it was you who had manipulated the system.

One click.

Agatha was officially innocent.

a/n: was this ok? lie to me and say yes, wait no don't do that I'll get happy then remember you're lying and then ill be sad. on another note, r is officially a criminal whoo. i do have something planned for this series but can y'all tell me if you genuinely like this series? many thanks 🙏

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #way down we go #agatha harkness fanfic #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x female reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x y/n #serial killer!agatha #forensic scientist!reader

47 notes · View notes