#turning a two person conversation into a five person conversation sure was fun | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crguang · 4 months

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lost virgins with broken wings that will regrow

You’re an ordinary person with a void in your chest. Black Swan means to fill it.

smut, afab!reader, virgin!reader, sorta stalker!black swan (im just going with canon here…) so mention of voyeurism, oral sex on both parts, fingering, overstimulation, switch!r and swan, 9.3k words and 6k of it is just smut……………

A/N: um…… i just think she’s neat.

black swan: they are such a loser, weirdo, freak, social outcast i have GOT to fuck them

It’s under low, pulsing lights and seated between intoxicated bodies, sensual music in your ears and a half-empty drink in hand, that you feel the most alone. The irony burns your throat not unlike the alcohol you’re sluggishly sipping every five minutes as you take in the sea of strangers on the dance floor of the club rhythmically moving with the beat on the speakers.

Beside you at the bar, a couple converses lowly to themselves, staring into each other’s eyes and laughing quietly like there doesn’t exist a world beyond their intimacy. To your right, friends argue over who will be the designated driver tonight and draw from actual straws provided by one of the bartenders. The unlucky one pouts and the rest cheer before enthusiastically ordering colorful cocktails from a pink haired bartender. The bass reverberates through you, inciting you to join the sweaty bodies losing themselves in the music, but the throb of your head is louder. You feel fatigue at the corner of your eyes while you swirl the clear liquid in your glass and watch its hypnotizing movement, briefly lost in it. You tune out the drunk laughter and shameless flirting happening around you and feel the familiar sensation of your heart constricting in your chest. No one is interested in your sulking, people come and go in the seats beside you, oblivious to your inner struggle. When the feeling spreads to your lungs, forcing you to breathe in the smell of alcohol and sweat, you turn on the stool to search for your friend in the crowd. You catch a glimpse of her red hair as she sways against a tall woman with dark coily hair; she seems to be having fun, occasionally giggling when the woman bends to whisper in her ear, so you sigh and rest an arm on the bar. It was an unspoken rule that if you went clubbing together, you would either leave together or make sure the other would be sober enough to walk out the door with a stranger. You’ll give her another half hour, maybe, before ruining her night by telling her you want to go home.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself,” a smooth, sultry voice sounds near you.

You smell her before you see her; strong traces of resins and dried fruit, like incense sticks burning through the air, easily overwhelm the different odors assaulting your nose from the variety of people around. The pleasant fragrance makes you pivot in your seat. A woman sits on the stool to your left and drums her gloved fingers on the counter thoughtfully, keen gaze already on you and a small, easy smile on her lips. They look bare in the low lighting, though you can discern a soft sheen on them that suggests she must have applied lipgloss not too long ago. Her thick, pale hair frames her cheeks and disappears down her back in two wavy parts that would undoubtedly reach the back of her thighs were she to stand upright. The purple veil over her head matches the color of her dress— you think it’s a dress, maybe a tight strapless top?— and the sort of stained glass accessory between her collarbones that connects her top to the lacy piece around her neck. Your first thought is that she looks out of place amongst the flimsy, provocative clothing everyone is flaunting. Your second is that she’s gorgeous, the kind you can’t help but stare at like a fool. Which you are currently doing. Her head tilts in question and you blink, remembering the words she’s spoken to you a moment earlier.

You suddenly feel shy under her gaze as you try to come up with a reply.

“I’m not,” you say, mentally cringing at your lack of tact. Your honesty seems to amuse her though, sunset eyes glimmering with mirth.

“Not your kind of scene, I presume?” She has to lean closer for you to hear each other over the music and you meet her halfway.

You shrug dismissively, not wanting to admit that being surrounded by people only made you feel terribly lonely. It would ruin the conversation, you’re not that socially inept for you to know that. “Not really, no. The drinks are nice, though.”

You can barely hear her hum as she replies, “And yet, here you are. What makes you suffer through such an unpleasant experience?”

You find her way of speaking a little odd. Evidently, she’s not from around here. You turn around to face the dance floor and her eyes follow the direction you point your chin towards.

“I’m here with her,” you gesture to the redhead cheekily grinding against the same woman from before. The sight is a little funny, despite your mood you’re glad that she’s enjoying herself.

“I see. A friend of yours?”

You nod and steal a glance at the woman beside you. Her posture is impeccably straight, chin resting in the palm of her hand while she leans an elbow on the counter, and she looks at you with a sense of familiarity that you can’t reciprocate. You’ve never met her before, you would have remembered. You’re not the type to be embarrassed by every little thing but her attentive stare makes you feel exposed, as if you’re standing in front of her with your flesh turned inside out and she could see the gross parts of you usually hidden from sight. You want to evade her gaze, if only to compose yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to. She pulls you in effortlessly with only a look and you lean towards her when she speaks up again.

“I realize I haven’t asked for your name.”

You tell her your name, having to speak a little louder to be heard over the music. She repeats it, trying the feel of it on her tongue, then her eyelids lower in appreciation, a knowing smile on her face.

You ask for hers in return and she offers a gentle hand after answering you. “I am Black Swan.”

Black Swan. An odd name, like her odd behavior and turns of phrases. She stands out like a sore thumb and doesn’t seem to care enough to try to blend in. Her politeness is endearing, so you grasp her hand to shake it half-jokingly. Her fingertips linger on your skin when you slowly pull away.

“What about you? Are you here alone?” You don’t see anyone else acknowledging her presence around you. Black Swan confirms your suspicions with a nod. “Ah. A party girl, then.”

Her quiet laugh is beautiful, low and velvety. It makes you suppress a smile. The music blasting through the speakers is now much more energetic and worsens your headache.

“What makes you say that?”

You shrug. “You don’t seem from here but you also look totally at ease. I thought maybe you were either the sort to adapt quickly or to love this kind of scene.”

Black Swan hums, a forefinger tracing shapes on the surface of the bar. “I suppose that assumption is not entirely incorrect. I am not a local, no.”

“Where are you from?”

“That is… a complicated question to answer.”

You raise a curious eyebrow and she pushes some hair out of her face with a hand before leaning into you, closer to your ear. You pause as her soothing scent fills your nose and you feel her breath on your cheek, words meant only for you.

“Let’s talk somewhere quieter, if you wish. We can continue our conversation without having to yell to be heard.”

You consider her offer, hesitant. Your stomach tightens at her proximity and you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to keep talking to her. Her subtle charms lure you in and lower your defenses, and that is both refreshing and concerning. Black Swan feels like the kind of person you only meet once, you want to make the most of it. Not to mention that it would be stupid to deny how attractive she is. You look back at your friend in the middle of the dance floor, suddenly envious of how easy it is for her to be comfortable among the crowd. She hasn’t spared you a glance since she was approached by her dancing partner and while that doesn’t really bother you, part of you wants to prove that you’re also able to make immediate connections with strangers, that you’re not an antisocial freak who only keeps to themself.

“Okay,” you accept and look away at the pleased glint that shines in Black Swan’s eyes. “I have to warn my friend, it’ll take a second.”

You stand from the bar stool and clumsily make your way to the middle of the room, narrowly avoiding sweating limbs and their intoxicated owners. You hate the way anxiety buzzes uncomfortably in your guts as you’re closely surrounded by so many people. You make it to where your friend is, breathing heavier from the stress, and tap her shoulder to get her attention. She wears a grin as she sees you and jumps a couple times in excitement, grabbing your shoulders.

“You wanna dance?!”

“I’m leaving with someone,” you say loudly, pointing to the bar. Her eyes squint, looking in the same direction. She stands on her tiptoes to see over the heads of some clubgoers but doesn’t seem to find who you’re referring to. “Are you gonna be okay?”

She looks back at you and smiles with a quick nod. You don’t think she’s drunk, maybe just a little tipsy, because her eyes are clear and she hasn’t pulled you into an intricate dance only she knows the steps to yet.

“Have fun! Don’t worry about me! Go get laid!”

You make a face, embarrassed by the idea. She only laughs loudly and turns back to the woman she’s been with all night. You make your way back to the bar as fast as you can, eager to be away from the crowd and deafening music. Black Swan waits for you near the end of the counter and gently takes your hand in hers when you get close enough. Her gloved fingers delicately curl around your hand, an unexpectedly comforting sensation. She expertly navigates through the sea of bodies, tugging you along with a firm hand until you’re both out of the club and standing under the moonlight.

From outside, the music has dulled to a faint pulsing and you feel like you can finally breathe properly. You briefly close your eyes to take in a slow breath, inhaling the crisp summer breeze and exhaling softly through your nose. Black Swan is still holding your hand as you do, she turns to face you and observes the way your shoulders relax a little more with each calming breath. Your eyes blink open. You feel a bit sheepish under her stare but her small smile assures you that she doesn’t think any ill of you. Your hand slips from her gasp so you can wring them together.

“Do you want to walk as we talk? My place isn’t too far from here,” you realize how that sounds and falter, glancing away. “Not that we have to go.”

“I would enjoy that. Lead the way.”

You scratch your temple awkwardly. There’s a silent pause as you start to walk through the empty streets and closed businesses, almost close enough that your fingers brush with every step. You take your time, your pace measured to bask in the night air and the way the light winds blow Black Swan’s perfume towards your face. The quiet is a reprieve for your throbbing skull, you feel your headache shift to a dull pulse with every passing minute. You look up at the round moon in the sky, then remember your question from earlier, the one she had trouble answering. You start to cross a wooden bridge over a wide canal and clear your throat.

“You didn’t tell me where you were from, earlier,” you say, slowing down slightly to look at the moonlight reflecting off the still water.

“Ah, that’s right.” Black Swan trails her fingers over the railing before coming to a halt. She follows your gaze on the water and leans her forearms on the railing, seemingly lost in thought. You turn the other way, your back against the wooden bars, waiting for her to sift through her thoughts. Finally, her head turns to look at you and she asks, “Are you familiar with Memokeepers?”

You take a second to remember where you’ve heard that word before. “Memokeepers… from the Garden of Recollection, right? Beings who preserve humanity’s memories for the Remembrance.”

“Yes.” She doesn’t add anything else, only rests her cheek in the palm of her hand and gazes at you like she’s able to see past all your barriers and it only fuels her interest in you.

“…Are you saying you’re…?

“I am.”

“Oh,” you ponder the admission for a short moment. That explains why she stands out from the crowd. You think you remember that Memokeepers choose who to be seen by; you must have looked like a crazy person if no one else could see her at the bar. “I don’t think I have any memories worth preserving to attract the attention of a Memokeeper.”

“Mmm… We seek to protect humanity against the irreversibility of time. I, for one, believe there is nothing more human than loneliness, wouldn’t you agree?”

The smile that stretches her lips is a soft one, far gentler than you think you deserve. You look away from her to observe the discoloration of the wood beneath your feet. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised she knows about that considering what she is, but you feel slightly irked at the idea of somebody intruding on your mind without your knowledge or consent. Your thoughts and experiences are yours to keep, no matter what any Aeon may believe.

“I don’t appreciate you looking inside my head.”

Black Swan shakes her head. “I haven’t. I can see it in your eyes.”

“You’re just that astute, huh?”

“Or you don’t hide it as well as you think you do.”

You hum. You can feel the warmth of her stare against your face and when you meet her eyes, you feel small. It’s hard to imagine all the things she has witnessed and lived through, you are nothing compared to her time among mortals. You don’t understand why she’s here with you, who is painfully ordinary and inexperienced in most matters of life.

“I still don’t think I have anything unique to offer to the Remembrance. You’re wasting your time.”

“Collecting every aspect of life includes the mundane, not every memory worth preserving is extraordinary. Besides, I don’t believe you to be ordinary.”

“That’s a bold, but misguided, assumption.”

Black Swan chuckles lowly, straightening up to face you better. She stands slightly shorter than you, even with her heeled boots. A step brings her closer to your body, a hand loosely holding onto the railing.

“I have plenty of those,” she drawls, a little quieter, “and I don’t need to look into your memories to know that they are true.”

“You got all of this from one conversation? I doubt it.”

“Then let me presume something else.”

Your breath hitches as her fingers delicately cup your jaw like it could break under her touch. You’re unable to tear your gaze from hers and you want to shrink faced with the bright sunset colors of her eyes, there’s a knowing sheen in their depths that makes you feel vulnerable in a way you refuse to be with anyone. Her thumb moves across your skin, the gesture almost tender.

“There is an ache in you,” she says, eyelids lowering to watch the movement of her thumb near the corner of your mouth, “a profound desire that creates an immeasurable crater inside of you. You feel that this void makes you fundamentally different from your peers, so you hide behind tall walls and attempt to ignore the cries of your heart.”

Your lips part but the words get stuck in your throat. Black Swan’s smile is without malice and you feel emotion swirl in your gut, tightening the muscles and quickening your breath. A chill passes through you, raising the hair on your arms, and you don’t know if it’s from the temperature or her hold on your jaw. The smooth fabric of her glove rubs against your skin in soothing motions, the smell of incense fills your nose from her proximity, you feel bare in front of her, exposed to her judgment— it’s all too much. You take several steps back to catch your breath and she lets you go somewhat reluctantly, observing your struggle as another breath of wind makes you shiver. The temperature has dropped since you left the nightclub; though you know nights can get chilly, you thought you would be going home in your friend’s car, the same way you got there, and wouldn’t need to bring a jacket.

You rub your arms, hesitantly glancing at Black Swan. “What do you want from me?”

“Let’s get you home, shall we?” She kindly replies instead, extending a hand. “You’re freezing.”

You look at her outstretched palm with slight suspicion. She hasn’t done anything to make you believe that she’s ill-intentioned, quite the opposite, but you’re used to being careful around others. Still, she isn’t wrong. There is a gaping hole in the middle of you and it makes you incapable of letting anyone past the walls you’ve built for yourself, afraid that it would consume whoever ventured too close. You long for something you can’t bear to think about anymore, but Black Swan is… different. Somehow, she sees you for everything you are, and while that thought is uncomfortable at first, it soon develops into something deeper, desperate. You don’t know how it feels to be known. Black Swan materializes behind your defenses and gazes at you with genuine interest. Against your own practiced sense of self-preservation, you let her.

Her hand is warm as you lead the rest of the way to your apartment. A shiver runs through you occasionally and her free hand trails up your arm after each one to warm you. You try to ignore the pulsing of your heartbeat in your ears and the yearning in your gut growing with every casual touch on your skin. You don’t speak much while you walk. It doesn’t take too long to reach your apartment, maybe around twenty minutes or so. You fiddle with the keys when you stand on the doorstep of the building. The door opens with a soft click and you keep it ajar with one hand, turning to face Black Swan.

“Do you want to…”

“Yes.”

She enters the building after you, following you up the stairs to the first floor where you live. Her presence makes you a little anxious since not many people have been inside your living space and you thank the Aeons that you’re a fairly clean person before opening the door and stepping inside. There’s a gust of wind as you walk in and you realize you must have left a window open because the place is colder than usual. You discard your shoes near the entrance to slip into indoor slides, toss your keys into the bowl on the small table and scratch your temple, wondering what you’re meant to do next. You don’t play host often, so for a moment you simply stand in your living room as Black Swan looks around, trailing her fingers on framed pictures and leather chairs. You suddenly feel self-conscious about your taste in interior design but she only looks at you with a smile once she’s seen everything she needs to see.

“Uh, do you want something to drink?” You ask awkwardly, gesturing towards the kitchen. “I have wine.”

Black Swan shakes her head. “I don’t feel thirst— not that kind anyway. You’re sweet to offer.”

You don’t ask her what she means by that, thinking it might be Memokeeper related.

“You should change into something more comfortable,” she adds. “I can see you shuddering.”

It’s not a bad idea. You nod, adjusting the room’s thermostat to a higher temperature and feeling her eyes on you all the while before disappearing into a hallway. Your bedroom is warmer than the rest of the apartment. You let out a breath as you rummage through your drawers for casual clothes, hesitating between sweat shorts and sweatpants. You’re already warming up a little, so you pick the former. You change into a t-shirt and step in front of the mirror to check that you don’t look as tired as you feel. You rub the fatigue out of your eyes then pinch your skin to make you seem more awake. You fiddle with your hair a little until it looks good enough. Thinking of Black Swan in your living room causes your stomach to flutter uncharacteristically. It’s a different kind of nervousness from the one you’re familiar with, anticipation lingers in your belly and you don’t even know what it’s for.

There’s a soft knock at your door that has you pivoting towards the sound in surprise.

“Come in.”

The hinges creak as it opens and Black Swan slips her head through the opening, eyes briefly running down your figure.

“Is everything alright?” You ask.

“Of course. I wanted to check in on you.”

“Oh.”

Her attention catches you off guard still. She walks further into the room, taking note of the various tapestries and images on your bedroom walls, and you sit on the bed as you watch her. Her hands trail on the desk of your vanity, on your low dresser’s wooden surface, around the bottles of perfume you keep on it. She seems entirely at ease in your room like it was her own, her composure not faltering for a moment. Her eyes stop on a polaroid of you and the same redhead you went out with tonight that is stuck to the full length mirror on the door of your closet. She observes it for a while, a finger tracing the picture’s edges.

“When was this?” She addresses you without turning around, immersed in the sight of you doubled over with laughter while your friend stands to the side with icing all over her face, a pout on her lips. A fingertip touches your frozen form. You think maybe she can sense the emotions through the captured memory.

“About two years ago, when we were still rooming together. We used to prank each other when the other least expected it.”

“You seem… lighter, less burdened than you are now.”

She’s right, once again. It feels as though there’s nothing you can keep hidden from her, like she’s already learned you from the inside. She said she hasn’t been inside your mind but you’re not sure if you’re inclined to believe her words. How else can she accurately perceive who you are? Something takes over the uneasiness you would normally feel at being so acutely exposed to another’s gaze, something you recognize and have desperately been trying to ignore for years. The profound yearning for closeness; for fingertips in your hair, for low confessions into the night, for a synergy that can only exist between two beings completely attuned to each other— it swallows you whole and leaves you writhing in its belly. Your fingers sink into the sheets as they curl to grab a fistful of them. You look away from Black Swan to stare at a point on the other side of the room, willing your treacherous heart to be steady.

You don’t notice Black Swan watching you until she steps into your peripheral vision. She walks around your bed, heels muted on the carpet, and takes a seat beside you. Her fingertips brush your fist as her head tilts, sunset eyes dimmed. You just now realize that she doesn’t have any pupils.

“Poor thing,” her voice lowers to a sultry tone, a hand tenderly resting on your cheek, “you’re scared, aren’t you? These emotions inside of you, itching to leave the confines of your heart…” She watches your lips part when you exhale softly through your mouth. Her fingertips trace your jawline before tilting your chin up. “I can sate this hunger, if you wish.”

You swallow, staring into her appreciative gaze. “Why?”

“Why?” She repeats almost to herself. Her thumb slides up your chin to your bottom lip and follows its curve. “I’m afraid that eludes me. There is something unattainable about you, a part of you that is locked away, perhaps. I feel… inexplicably drawn to it.”

Black Swan slowly leans closer as if gaging your reaction and giving you time to react should you want to push her away. You can almost feel her breath on your lips, then she pauses to look up into your eyes, searching for an answer to an unspoken question. She seems to find what she’s looking for and when you think she’s going to kiss you, a persistent fluttering in your lower belly, her head dips to the side and her lips press against the skin of your neck. You tense as her fingers brush your curled ones on the bed, moving over your knuckles to your wrist, then up your forearm in a deliberately gentle touch. You feel her open mouth trail down your neck. Her hand leaves your face to settle on your bare knee. You let out a shuddering breath, frozen in place.

“Your pulse is racing,” she murmurs into your skin, pressing a firm kiss to your pulse point, “I can feel it.”

“What… are you doing?”

“Enjoying you.”

The hand on your knee slides higher, fingertips brushing the fabric of your shorts on your thigh. The other coaxes your muscles to relax with soft touches up and down your arm. You feel overwhelmed by her closeness and you’re unable to do anything but breathe out at the sensation of her slow kisses up your neck and to your jaw. A shiver runs down your spine and she hums in delight. The tip of her tongue tentatively darts out to lick a stripe up your jawline to your ear, causing you to inhale sharply through your mouth and drawing an amused chuckle out of her.

Black Swan pulls away slightly to take in your facial features as her hands sneak under your shirt to hold onto your waist, squeezing once. Your lashes flutter with every blink, the rise and fall of your chest quickening under her seductive touch.

“How adorable,” she mutters with a lustful sunrise in her eyes. Her hands travel over the expanse of your stomach, one of them separating from the other to trail up your back. She rubs the skin over your ribs. “I’ve barely touched you and here you are… so breathless for me.”

A meek sound escapes you at her forwardness and an appreciative gleam brightens her gaze. With her insisting hands on you and her scent all around, you feel entirely at her mercy. When she leans closer for her teeth to graze your neck, your head tilts to allow her better access. Her thumbs rub circles on your waist, enjoying its pliable curves. Your hand sinks into her long hair, messily tangling around the soft locks, and you bite your bottom lip at the low hum that follows. Black Swan finds a sensitive spot on your neck, sucks on the tender skin and your fingers grip her hair tighter at the pleasant sensation of her mouth on you. You relax against her like butter left in the sun. You can’t help the sharp exhales that leave you and with each one, her fingers dig into your sides almost possessively.

Her tongue swipes over the bruising spot at the base of your neck, soothing the dull pain caused by her teeth and earning a quiet, breathy noise from you. Black Swan smiles into your skin.

“So responsive, aren’t you?” Her voice is a sultry purr. Her touches grow bolder, lifting your shirt to pull it above your head in one smooth motion. She discards it somewhere on the bed and leans to gently bite down on your shoulder.

“Oh!”

Her palms roam over your torso, nails brushing the band of your bra. You fleetingly wish she would take off her long gloves so that you could feel her without any barriers and she seems to be thinking the same; a moment later she takes her hands from you to pull the garment off her forearms. You don’t see where they end up, nor do you care, because the feeling of her soft, unscarred palms sliding over the plane of your stomach steals your breath away. They reach your chest, squeezing your breasts over your bra as her wet kisses travel to your collarbones. Her fingertips slip under your bra, grazing your hardening nipples, and something resembling a quiet whimper escapes you.

“I wonder… How long has it been since you’ve been touched like this, mm?”

“I’ve never…”

Her lips pause near your throat. You feel her breath on your skin with every exhale.

“Is that right?”

You nod hesitantly, apprehending her response.

Black Swan pulls her mouth away from you, fingers expertly unclasping your bra to get it out of the way, and firmly pushes you further into the bed. Her gaze is hungry as she straddles your thighs and looms over you, a palm over your breast.

“No one has ever held you so close… had their hands on you like this?…”

“No.”

A possessive glint flashes in her eyes. She squeezes the flesh of your breast, the friction of your nipple brushing deliciously against her palm has you gasping out at the same time Black Swan eagerly claims your mouth. Her tongue pushes past your lips to swirl around yours and she readily swallows the soft moan you let out. You hold onto her hips while she presses breathy kiss after breathy kiss on your lips. You feel a mix of her saliva and yours at the corner of your mouth and her tongue licks it off before meeting your own once more, leaving you breathless. Two fingers pinch your erect nipple, coaxing more needy sounds from you and a low, appreciative moan on her part.

Her thumbs roll your nipples in tight circles, occasionally twisting this way and that to draw a whimper out of you, and she reluctantly separates from your lips to allow you to catch your breath. Her own chest heaves as she looks down at you, at your bruised lips and hard nipples under the pads of her fingers, arousal pooling in her belly. She is the only one privy to the sharp gasps you make, to your soft moans and quiet whimpers. Black Swan fills the void inside of you with her lustful and unrelenting touches, claiming you with her hot mouth and nimble hands. She leaves an imprint on your body with every kiss to your skin, every graze of her teeth or nails across your chest. You feel your arousal ruin your underwear, clit aching to be touched. You bring Black Swan’s mouth to yours with a hand around her neck, lips locking in desperate, messy kisses. Her hums of pleasure only turn you on more and you have to squeeze your thighs together to try and relieve the pressure between your legs.

A thin string of saliva connects your lips as she pulls away to press the flat of her tongue over your nipple. The tip teases your sensitive bud before she takes it into her mouth and sucks, hard and fast. She fondles the other breast, twisting your nipple between two warm fingers, and you can’t help a choked moan at the feeling. Pleasure courses through you in short, intense jolts down your spine, and your cunt throbs in your panties, begging for her attention.

“B-Black Swan,” you breathe out, biting your lip when she hums in satisfaction around your nipple. Her teeth graze the bud teasingly but she doesn’t bite, instead she opts for long suckles and the occasional flicks of her tongue. “Please…”

Her mouth leaves your chest and stretches into a smug smile, desire apparent in the way she gazes at the faint marks she’s left on your skin.

“What are you pleading for, darling?”

You forego timidity to focus on the burning need in your belly. Your fingers curl around her wrist and guide her hand down your stomach, over the band of your shorts. Her eyes narrow though the smile doesn’t leave her face as she lets you slip her fingers into your shorts. Her middle finger sinks between your outer lips over your panties and feels your slick through the thin fabric. You hold onto her wrist to keep her hand over your covered sex, sighing in relief.

“How rude of me,” she says lightly, finger running up and down your slit, “to neglect you like this. I was caught up in my own desire, it seems.”

Black Swan settles between your thighs. Her lips leisurely trail wet kisses down the curve of your stomach and her pussy flutters in response to the whimper that comes out of your mouth. She’s so wet already and all she’s done is kiss you. Her gaze is intense as she looks up at your brows furrowed in anticipation of her tongue on your cunt. How stunningly helpless you look under her ministrations. So sensitive, so responsive… she wants to ruin you, devour you until your thighs tremble pressed to her ears and your throat is sore from crying out her name. It sounds beautiful in your voice, even more so with unashamed desire lacing your words.

Black Swan discards your shorts without ceremony, tossing them on the floor next to the bed. Her tongue swipes over her lips at the sight of your wet panties. Her fingertips trace the edge of the material, hooking under it to watch the sticky string that connects it to your cunt as she pulls it away from you. Part of her wants to take her time ravishing you, she’s waiting this long, after all, but she also desperately wants to indulge her desires. How can she resist when you’re panting under her this way, a hand around your own breast and gazing down at her figure between your thighs?

Her hands fondle the flesh of your inner thighs, lost in the sight of your glistening cunt. Arousal slides down your pussy in slow drops, the tip of your pretty, aching clit poking out from between your lips. She almost wants to curse.

“You have no idea how long I’ve craved to have you bare before me like this,” she purrs, two fingers spreading your lips to fully appreciate your cunt, “how much I’ve wanted you.”

You exhale shakily, brows twisting for a second. “We just met…”

“Officially, perhaps.” Black Swan presses a kiss on your wet folds, tongue licking a stripe up your slit and collecting your slick. You moan, eyes squeezing shut. The taste of you makes her greedy and she has to contain herself not to lick you silly. “I’ve had my eye on you for quite a while…”

Your brain barely registers the words. Your thighs threaten to close in around her head with every flick of her tongue against your needy cunt. You pinch a nipple between your fingers as Black Swan places wet, open-mouthed kisses on your pussy and you almost forget to reply to her statement.

“What— What do you mean?” You ask breathily, hips jerking forward further into her mouth.

She laughs softly at your confused tone. Her fingers keep your lips spread wide to allow the flat of her tongue to collect more of your arousal. She feels your thighs on her ears and makes no move to stop you from squeezing them together.

“What do you think? Memokeepers are rarely eager to show themselves, and this pull I feel towards you… I had to understand it.”

You don’t know what to say. She’s admitting to stalking you while in between your thighs, tongue greedily swirling around your slick folds. She feels so good that you can’t focus on anything but the way she spreads her saliva on your pussy and swallows your arousal. You vaguely recall that this is the thirst she meant earlier, this bottomless need for more of your taste coating her lips and chin as the tip of her nose bumps against your throbbing clit.

You have trouble forming full sentences in your mind when she sucks your folds into her mouth and you don’t even care about the invasion of your privacy.

“You…” A finger teases your entrance and you whine, momentarily forgetting what you meant to say. “You’ve been following me.”

“Mmm…” Black Swan tentatively pushes the tip of her index finger into your cunt and swallows a moan as it effortlessly sinks inside you. “I needed to know who you were, what makes you tick, your unspoken desires. And after observing you for so long, committing your every heavy sigh to my memory, I could not resist meeting you myself— to touch you with my own hands and hear my name fall from your lips the way curses escape you on the brink of pleasure.”

You bring a hand to your mouth to muffle a moan, the tip of her finger brushing against a sensitive spot inside you. Her pace is steady, careful not to overwhelm you too fast or too soon, and it takes you two full minutes to understand what she’s implying. She takes your clit between her lips and sucks, long and hard.

“F-Fuck,” you whine, hips jerking forward in need. You feel your orgasm build in your lower belly and grip a fistful of the sheets under you, grinding your pussy against Black Swan’s experienced tongue. “You’ve— You’ve watched me… watched me touch myself?”

A throaty chuckle leaves her like she’s amused by how hard you’re trying to follow her sentences. She pulls away from your puffy clit for only a moment, looking up at you with unbridled desire. She drinks in the quiver of your bottom lip and the creases around your eyes, your parted lips and your hand palming the flesh of your breast. You are as beautiful under her as she imagined you to be when she would take a look around your empty bedroom, piecing together the puzzle of you with the help of your possessions.

Black Swan quickens the thrusts inside you, feeling her own cunt clench inside her shorts at the sensation of your warm walls around her digit. “How could I not? The way you fall apart under your own hands… your quiet moans as you play with yourself, oh…”

She moans into your cunt and you feel yourself gush into her mouth at the thought of her gaze on you all this time, watching you pleasure yourself and having to restrain herself from touching you, quietly suffering while she ruins her underwear. You wish you could have seen her and you wonder if she squeezed her thighs together as you played with your clit or sucked in a breath as you thumbed your nipple. She’s usually so composed, to think that your bare body can bring her to the edge of her self-control makes you so wet you’re sure you’re ruining your sheets.

“I can be a very patient person. I’ve had to restrain myself all this time, to be content simply watching you.” Black Swan circles your clit with her thumb, applying pressure on the tip as her slender finger drills into you the same way you do it when you touch yourself. The pleasure is too much and has you moaning into your forearm, uselessly trying to contain the noise due to living in an apartment building. “And… I think I deserve a reward for my patience, don’t you agree, darling?”

There’s a tightness in your stomach begging to snap; the pad of her thumb presses against your clit and the jolts of pleasure that course from your cunt to the rest of your body is heavenly, you’ve never felt more desired than with Black Swan’s uneven breaths fanning over your pussy, tongue darting out to taste you in soft, sweet kitten licks. You can’t control the tremble in your thighs and the stutter of your chest, or the hand that tangles into her pale hair to pull her closer to where you ache for her. Broken, high moans fill the room along with the wet sounds of her digit inside of you and her lips around your clit. You can’t think of anything but the pleasure that suddenly crashes over you and makes you shiver. You come hard around her finger and on her tongue, thighs squeezing against her ears and fingers tightly gripping her hair, and Black Swan laps up your cum with a rumbling hum of satisfaction. She helps you ride your orgasm by slowly massaging your walls, but her mouth doesn’t leave your cunt even as your high subsides. She licks long stripes up your slit, teases the base of your sensitive clit, then attaches her lips to your gushing entrance.

“S-Swan…” you manage to utter, back arching.

Black Swan inhales sharply at the soft sigh of her name. Her hands fondle the flesh of your inner thighs and spread them wide, keeping them pinned to the mattress. Her colorful eyes have dulled, the shine of your cum on her lips alike the lipgloss she’d applied earlier tonight. Her gaze is hungry and smug at having you shake for her, at being the first to make you come, to hear the mewls spilling from your open mouth. The thin layer of sweat on your skin gives it an intoxicating glow and she can’t resist dragging two fingers between your folds to watch your slick envelop her digits.

“You are a vision,” she drawls, unhurriedly rubbing your sensitive cunt. “Beautiful and so, so responsive to my touch…”

The pad of her thumb presses against your twitching clit and your hips jerk as you whimper, helpless under her. Black Swan hums appreciatively and gives you some reprieve, hovering over you to plant a tender kiss to your jaw. Your fingers grip the back of her neck to pull her body closer and the friction of your hard nipples on the fabric of her clothes makes you exhale audibly. She uses sticky fingers to tilt your chin upwards. Your lips part almost instantly to welcome her hot, wet mouth. It’s a softer kiss than the urgent ones from before, her lips slowly slide against yours and you feel her breath in your mouth, her firm tongue swiping over your bottom lip. Your arm sneaks around her waist, pulling her body flush on yours, earning another long hum from her. Her weight on you is a delight as she leads the pace of your mouths and your heart constricts as if squeezed between loving fingers. This is intimacy, you realize; Black Swan’s thigh between your legs and her wet digits under your chin, her tongue past your lips and the warmth of her skin on yours. You feel breathless in an entirely new way.

The ache of your pussy dulls to a soft pulse, your hands run down her sides to squeeze her waist and you’re suddenly hungry for everything she has to offer. You rub circles into her pliable flesh, your touch growing insistent as you keep her pressed against you. Black Swan moans low into your mouth when your palms slide down her body to grasp her ass. Her breathing is a touch heavier against your lips and you prop up the thigh between her legs, drawing an exquisite gasp from her.

“Need you…” you mumble, fingers slipping under top to pull at the mesh of her bodysuit over her back. It slaps her skin when you let go and the needy sound that leaves her almost makes you moan. “Off.”

“Demanding…” Black Swan sits up, lavender hair cascading down her back, and grips the material of her purple top from the bottom to pull it over her head in one smooth movement.

Your pupils dilate considerably at the sight of the intricate lace of her bra. She leans forward to capture your mouth in an eager kiss. You run your hands up her stomach and fondle her heavy breasts between your palms, enjoying their plushness. Your fingers tug on the cup of her bra to free one of them and you whine in the middle of the kiss at the feel of her hard nipple under your thumb. Black Swan leans into your touch with a quiet sigh. You harshly twist her nipple for the surprised moan that escapes her. Pulling her tight bodysuit down her waist only takes a few seconds and your hands greedily take fistfuls of her breasts and squeeze once, then twice, as your mouth chases hers, her tongue wetting your lips in a sloppy, hurried kiss.

Black Swan helps you pull her clothes past her hips and takes the rest off herself, revealing the creamy skin of her plump thighs and the dark lace of her underwear. Slick clings to the fabric in a thick, sticky string when she slides it off her legs to discard it on the floor. Two of your fingers run down her cunt, grazing her engorged clit, and she lets out a breathy moan, resting her forearms on each side of your head to support her body. She’s incredibly wet, so ready for your touch between her folds. Her entrance gushes with another wave of arousal, breath heavy, as the tip of your index teases her hole. Her forehead rests on yours, the tip of your noses brushing. You nuzzle into her at the same moment you push a finger inside her throbbing pussy, tentatively thrusting into her to feel the warmth of her walls before slipping a second digit into her.

Black Swan squeezes her eyes shut with a needy moan against your lips and her cunt clenches tight around your fingers. The slight stretch of her pussy brings her considerable relief; it’s not long before her hips follow the pace of your thrusts inside her. Her breasts move with the rest of her body, baby pink nipples grazing your chest with every roll of her hips. Her breath is hot on your face and she stutters out soft gasps as you quicken your pace, drunk on the feeling of her cunt sucking in your fingers like she never wants to let you go.

“Yes—” she gasps against your mouth, “You feel so good…”

You plunge into her up to the knuckles, determined to have her gush over your hand. Your name is a half moan past her lips and her brows twist in pleasure, the filthy, wet sound of your digits drilling into her fluttering pussy filling your bedroom in an intoxicating melody. A quiver goes through her thighs. Black Swan lifts one hand from the bed to bring it between her legs and swipe her aching clit in tight circles, low oh’s and ah’s spilling from her mouth. Together, you bring her closer to the edge. You masturbate her the way you know how, the way she’s watched you do to yourself so many times, fingers curling inside her and making her see explosions of colors behind her eyelids. She’s tempted to curse, her who never does, and she feels the coil in her belly snap as white hot pleasure washes over her. Her hand stutters on her clit and she comes around your fingers with a sharp moan, squeezing them tight and forcing you to slow down your pace, her limbs trembling over you. Her orgasm is intense, she shivers from head to toe and struggles to keep herself above you, chest leaning into yours.

Black Swan barely has a moment to catch her breath as you slip out of her and rub comforting shapes into her love handles with one hand while bringing her wrist up to your face. You take her fingers into your mouth and her eyes blink open at the sensation of your tongue swirling around her digits, sucking her clean. She gazes down at you, lips parted.

“Swan…” you breathe out around her fingers, the hint of a whimper in your words. “Want you on my face.”

Black Swan applies pressure on your tongue, making you moan. “Is that right?” Her voice is low and throaty, each word carefully enunciated despite her heavy breathing.

You nod eagerly, squeezing the dip of her hip. The thought of her plush thighs around your head, trapping you between their soft flesh as she grinds her cunt on your tongue makes your head spin. You want to bury your nose in her slick folds and have her come in your mouth until she’s too sensitive to handle your ministrations. Black Swan hums, a fondness in her lidded eyes as she takes her fingers out of your mouth. They leave a wet trail on your skin when they cup your cheek.

“So eager to please,” she says softly to herself, thumb tracing the curve of your top lip. “Alright.”

Like she was ever going to say no to the needy look in your gaze; you look up at her with twinkling admiration and she feels herself pulled to you once more.

Black Swan positions herself over your face, thick thighs on each side of your head, and your arms wrap around them to pull her closer. Her pussy glistens, puffy and pink, as she gently tangles her hand in your hair and the sight is breathtaking. The short hairs on her cunt are only slightly darker than the ones on her head, they shine with her slick and entice you further into her folds. Your tongue darts out to lick a stripe up her slit, delighting in the soft hum that follows the gesture. You’ve never done this before, but you try your best to apply theory to practice, rubbing the flat of your tongue on her cunt and collecting her tangy cum. The grip on your hair pushes you closer to her wet pussy, but she’s careful not to be too harsh.

“Just like that,” her quiet, breathy moans encourage you as you suck her pulsing clit. The drawl of her words sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your pussy. “You’re a quick learner, aren’t you?”

The taste of her fills your mouth, the smell of her arousal takes over your nose as it coats the tip of it, you can feel her all around and it makes you moan into her throbbing cunt. The vibrations reverberate through her pussy, pulling another long moan of your name out of her lips. She’s sensitive from her previous orgasm, already twitching against your tongue, yet her hips rolls into your mouth to chase release a second time. You stare up at her head thrown backwards in blind pleasure, at the sheen of her lips and the movement of her breasts, nipples like pretty pebbles on her chest. Sweat clings to her brows and dampens the bangs framing her cheeks. She’s a painting above you, one that you can’t tear your eyes from.

“You’re so pretty, Swan…” you mutter into her pussy, flicking your tongue on her clit, and she almost melts at the compliment.

Her hips grind into your face as she feels herself getting closer to release, gripping your hair a bit tighter to keep your mouth on her cunt.

“Oh…” Black Swan moans, two fingers closing around her nipple to pinch it softly. Her cum drips down your chin and her eyes shut in bliss.

Her orgasm comes embarrassingly fast— after having to rely for so long solely on the thoughts of you as she touched herself, hearing your muffled sounds into her pussy is enough to bring her to the brink. You’re enthusiastic, licking up her slit and between her folds, sucking her clit hard and fast, and she can’t resist bucking into your mouth as she comes on your tongue. Her body trembles and you welcome the gush of her cum in your mouth with a pleased moan, eagerly lapping up her release. Your hands tighten their hold on her thighs, keeping her flush against you while she rides her high, slightly leaning forward. Her clit twitches, her cunt throbs and she can’t believe how wet she is, cum staining her thighs and the bottom of your face.

You don’t let her pull away, gripping her tighter when her hips jerk away from your mouth, and she gasps out, the feel of your tongue pushing into her entrance quickly overwhelming her.

“Aeons—“ A moan breaks her sentence and the words get stuck in her throat as you wriggle your tongue inside her to swallow more of her cum.

Her thighs shake around your head and her eyes almost roll back into her skull at your desperate need to draw more of her needy sighs and throaty moans. Your open mouth won’t leave her pussy, sucking her lips, nose grazing her sensitive clit. Black Swan makes a pretty mess on your face and her hips greedily grind into you despite the overwhelming sensations, clutching the headboard in a tight grip.

She breathes out your name, eyes shut and brows twisting in pleasure, “Ah… Mmh—!”

You wrap your lips around her clit and suck, making her choke out a strangled moan as the hand in your hair attempts to pull you from her pussy.

“T-Too sensitive…”

Black Swan sees stars behind her eyelids, a broken whine in her throat when you relent slightly and opt to tease the base of her aching clit instead. Her stomach is so tight, orgasm rapidly approaching, and she can’t do anything but rub her cunt desperately onto the flat of your tongue. She needs to come so badly she forgets to take into account the fact that you’re having difficulty breathing with your nose in her pussy and her thighs around your head. There’s a throbbing in your skull not unlike a coming migraine, but you focus on making her feel so good her teeth sink into her bottom lip to muffle a needy cry.

With the tip of your tongue teasing her entrance, Black Swan comes hard and shakes above you as a drawn out moan of your name rips from her throat. You can’t breathe with how much she’s squeezing your head, you have to tap her thigh a couple times to get her attention and she finds the strength to pull herself from you, a tremble in her legs. You’re both panting heavily when she collapses on the bed beside you, catching your breath as the throb of your skull slowly subsides. Black Swan has the back of a hand on her eyes and you can see the quiver that runs through her with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

You bury your face in her chest and she sighs in satisfaction, absentmindedly stroking your hair as you press soft kisses to her breast.

“Was that okay?” You murmur into her skin, rubbing her waist.

Black Swan laughs, disbelief sending ripples through her abdomen. She tilts your head to face her and gazes down at you with a mix of endearment and amusement.

“It was more than okay, trust me.”

Her hand pulls you to gently kiss your lips, tasting herself on your mouth. You’re putty against her and she has no difficulty flipping you over so that your head rests on your pillows. A thumb swipes over your jawline when she separates her lips from yours. You watch the sun rise in her eyes.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, mmh?”

#honkai star rail #hsr black swan #black swan x reader #hsr x reader #hsr smut #black swan x you #hsr x you #black swan smut #hsr fanfic #sub!hsr #dom!hsr #hsr #hsr black swan x reader

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haikyu-mp4 · 5 months

Text

Yoga partner

word count; 667 – pregnant!reader

You were a few months pregnant and every time you felt like you were adjusting to the size of your bump, it seemed to get bigger. When you found out you were pregnant, your husband, Bokuto Koutarou, had been moved to tears and there was no lack of support from him so far through the pregnancy. That’s why you weren’t afraid to communicate your troubles to him as they started plaguing your mind.

As it got more difficult to adjust to your body changing, the two of you sat down to research pregnancy activities. And then Koutarou got bored of researching, so he ended up asking someone on the team who had kids instead.

That’s how he learnt about pregnancy yoga. There were classes specifically for pregnant women, and in his excitement, Koutarou had signed you up and encouraged you to go. However, now he was looking at you with a subtle pout as you leaned on the kitchen island, not feeling as sporty as you wished you did.

“I don’t want to go. What if all the others are used to it and do super well while I can barely do anything?” you complained, pouting right back at him. This made him huff, resting his arms on his hips. Then his eyes lit up again. Oh no, an idea.

“Maybe I should go with you!”

Next thing you knew, Koutarou was helping you out of the car, adorned in the gym wear he had that most resembled yours in colour. You were laughing softly, holding his hand as he babbled about how excited he was.

When you walked inside, your laughter died down as you scanned the room. A lot of moms-to-be were staring cautiously, first at you and then at your husband who smiled and waved. You felt the anxiety creep back into you as you whispered your husband's name to alert him, but he took no notice.

“Hello, ladies! Ready for a good workout?” he called out, and it didn’t take long before the moms melted for his personality (and looks probably, but you tried to ignore that for now). In the end, he wasn’t allowed inside the class because of the women's comfort, but he gave everyone encouraging high fives while the trainer led them inside the little gym. Before closing the door behind you as you were last, you turned to him and pulled his shirt down so you could kiss him fiercely.

“That’s for being such a perfect man. I’ll see you in an hour.”

Koutarou was thrilled to see the glow back in your cheeks when you came back out. He had gone for a jog around the neighbourhood but made sure he was back before you finished. When you walked out of the class, you were conversing happily with another woman before bidding her goodbye. You made new friends! Even though you were still shy, you had asked to exchange numbers.

All of this was possible because your husband encouraged and supported you. You truly were blessed to have him and he reminded you every day how lucky you were through this constant support.

Now you even bring him into the living room at least once a week so the two of you can do pregnancy yoga by following some videos you found on YouTube. It’s great fun and Koutarou proudly documents it in the workout journal they fill out for their trainer.

7 pm Pregnancy yoga

Iwaizumi tilted his head at him curiously after looking over this month’s notes. “You’re not supposed to write your wife’s workouts.”

“We’re doing them at home now, too. Feel like it’s doing great things for my bum,” he answered, one hand on each asscheek for emphasis. Iwaizumi already regretted asking about it. Atsumu slapped one of Koutarou's hands off from behind him before staring at his butt and humming.

“Not bad. Maybe we should all do it.”

To say the least, Koutarou is very dedicated to being with you every step of the way.

masterlist

#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq #haikyuu x you #haikyu fluff #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #haikyuu bokuto #hq bokuto

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watchmegetobsessed · 8 months

Text

GOOD THINGS TAKE TIME

A/N: can't believe i actually wrote this, but yaay!! i did it!!

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

SUMMARY: Harry has been in love with Y/N since forever. Unfortunately the plan he comes up with to win her over leads her to meet the man she eventually would get engaged to...

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“This is literally the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”

“No, it is brilliant!”

“Brilliantly stupid,” Niall retorts, staring at his best friend who is standing in front of the tiny mirror they managed to squeeze into their dorm room. Harry runs his fingers through his unruly curls, settling them in a messy, but organized way before grabbing his jacket and phone.

“Why would it be stupid? It will work out perfectly. These speed dating things never work, we will have a round with each other and I will prove that I’m the perfect guy for her! Easy!”

Niall can’t help but bark out a laugh from his bed.

“Yeah, that’s a cool fairytale, but have you thought of everything that could go wrong?”

“Nope, because nothing will go wrong. Don’t piss me off, I’m about to win over the girl I’ve been in love with my whole life. Why are you being so bitter?”

“I’m just… not sure this is the best way to do it,” Niall sighs.

“It’ll be fine. I have to go now. Wish me luck!”

And with that he is out of the small, cramped room.

Harry is quick to forget about Niall’s warning, in his mind, it’s the perfect plan. He begged Y/N to come to this speed dating event held on campus for a week before she finally agreed. He’s convinced there’ll be no one he should be worried about and he has thought about what it will be like when he will be sitting in front of her, how he will charm her and finally step over the lines of friendship and head towards something more.

It all played out well in his head.

He meets her by the café that’s the location of the event. She is already there, wearing a flowy dress with a denim jacket over, she is not too dolled up, but he can tell she spent quite some time in the bathroom probably before leaving.

She looks breathtaking.

“Hey there,” he smiles widely as he walks up to her. “Ready?”

“Not really,” she huffs out a short, nervous laugh.

“Come on, it will be fun!” he smirks, opening the door for her, catching the scent of her sweet perfume as she walks past him.

They come here often between lectures, now the tables are lined up straight, two chairs by each of them with notebooks and pens waiting to be used during the speedy rounds. There are a handful of people lingering around already and soon enough the place fills up and the event starts. Harry and Y/N end up sitting a couple of tables away from each other, so it will take about five rounds for them to meet. The host of the event explains how it works: every round is ten minutes long, either people get five minutes to tell the person across from them about themselves. At the end of a round they can exchange numbers and carry on with the event or they can decide to step out of the line and carry their conversation on.

Harry is confident as he waits for it to start, while Y/N seems nervous as she examines the men sitting in front of the line of women. The bell that signals the start and end of the rounds rings and everyone focuses on the person sitting across the table.

One round, two rounds, three rounds go by, Harry tries his best to focus on the girls he talks to, but he is just too excited to finally get to Y/N. She is now just one table away from him, only one more girl before he finally gets to take the chair in front of her.

The round ends and it’s time to move to the next table. Harry is collecting his notebook and pen when he sees two figures stand up from the corner of his eyes. He turns to his right and sees Y/N standing up from her table along with the guy she just talked to in the last round.

Harry’s stomach drops and his jaw hangs open for a moment as he watches the two of them move to a table on the side, she is laughing and the guy touches her arm as they exclude themselves from the rest of the daters.

Harry is frozen, panic settles in the pit of his stomach, then someone nudges him to move and he is forced to carry on while the table she was sitting at before is now awfully empty.

He was not expecting this. This was not part of his plan, he was supposed to be the one to sweep her off her feet, not some random guy. He forces himself to carry on with the rounds, but he can barely focus, he keeps looking back at Y/N, but she seems quite happy to be talking to the guy.

It feels like forever until there are no more rounds and everyone is free to chat with whoever caught their eyes. Harry is tempted to go over to Y/N, make the guy leave and claim her to be his. But all he can do is just watch as the girl he’s been in love with forever falls for someone else.

It’s his personal hell.

Hours go by and they are still talking, but Harry can’t watch it any longer. He sends her a text saying he’s gone back to the dorm and to text him when she is home as well. When he walks into his room Niall is about to ask how it went, but just one look on his face is enough to figure out the plan did not work.

He lies in bed wide awake for hours and then her text finally arrives.

Y/N: Back in the dorm :) thanks for asking me to come, it was awesome! I’ll tell you about Oscar tomorrow Xx

Oscar. Harry didn’t want to know who she chose over him, but now he had a name and even though he knew nothing about him, he hated the guy.

With a heavy heart he drops the phone to his night stand and stares at the wall until the Sun rises.

Harry has read over the menu at least five times by the time Y/N walks into the restaurant finally. It hasn’t been that long since the last time he saw her, he can still feel that stinging feeling in his chest every time he sees her he’s felt in the past years.

“Sorry, finding a parking spot was impossible,” she huffs as she reaches the table, he stands and they share a short, but tight hug.

“It’s fine,” he smiles.

“Have you ordered?” she asks, grabbing the menu Harry’s been staring at the last ten minutes.

“No, not yet.”

He watches her read through the menu, though they both know she will order the same thing she always gets, no matter where they eat. The waitress comes and takes their order and when she’s gone they are finally focusing on each other.

Meeting up has been harder since they finished college two years ago, even though they live in the same city. Harry has been working at a label the past year and Y/N secured a great position at a firm after graduation, so they both have been quite busy.

Especially Y/N, because her and Oscar moved in together after school was over. They’ve been dating for almost two years then, so it was a logical move, but it didn’t make it easier on Harry, who’s been silently suffering since that stupid speed dating event he will forever regret asking Y/N to go to, because her and Oscar have been together for almost four years now, happier than ever, twisting the knife in his chest every time he has to see her being happy with someone else.

“Ah, it’s been such a crazy week,” she sighs, leaning back in her seat.

“Want to rant about it?” Harry smiles at her softly.

“Well…” Her lips curl upwards as she takes a deep breath before peeking up at him. “It’s not really something I want to rant about, because… It’s quite good news.”

Harry is just about to ask her to elaborate when she holds up her hand in front of him and it takes him a couple of seconds to put the picture together. But when it finally sinks in, he almost throws up.

There’s a shiny diamond ring sitting on her ring finger and the cheesiest smile is stretched across her face behind it. She wiggles her fingers as Harry’s lips part while he silently fights for his life to hold his not too uplifting feelings and thoughts bottled up. He succeeds, because she doesn’t realize just how much he is struggling.

“It happened last weekend, I wanted to tell you right away, but I also wanted to tell you in person,” she enthuses, turning her hand so the ring is now facing her, the beaming smile should make Harry happy, but he can taste the awful bitterness again he’s been swallowing back for so long.

She goes on to tell him every detail about the proposal, how romantic it was, from what Harry hears it was just how she imagined, but he is still frozen in shock, his eyes glued to the diamond on her finger.

“So, now I’m a bride!” She finishes her speech, but as she looks at Harry her face falls. “Oh my God, I’m such an asshole!” She covers mouth and Harry’s stomach drops, thinking that his expression gave him away. “I’m telling you about my engagement when you are probably still not over the whole Wren thing.”

Wren? He almost asks her who Wren is, but he realizes that she is talking about the last girl he dated. Things ended a few weeks ago, but he already forgot about it, because it was the same as before. He couldn’t bear being with someone who wasn’t Y/N.

“Ah, no, no…” he manages to speak up finally, gulping harshly. “It’s fine. And… congrats!” The smile on his face would probably not fool her, but she is too lost in her pink clouds.

“Thank you! And there is one more thing. It will sound stupid,” she giggles, before continuing, “I don’t really have any girl best friends, I’ll have just a few bridesmaids, but… I want you to be my maid of honor?”

Harry is staring back at her with parted lips, her words playing in his mind on repeat.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but Harry, you are my best friend and I want you there, by my side. So, what do you say?”

Blinking, he fights the part of him that wants to stand up and walk away. Because she is asking him to watch her marry someone from the front line, to assist her on her big day when he has imagined himself being the man she would one day walk down the aisle to. But now this image will be different and ruined forever, because she is marrying someone else.

For a moment he is back at the speed dating event. He thinks about how he should have just told her how he felt instead of that ridiculous plan that brought her together with Oscar. Maybe she would have rejected him, but at least he could say that he tried. Now he has to put up with the pain of his heart breaking over and over again, all because he couldn’t man up and tell her he’d been in love with her.

Exhaling slowly he licks his lips before nodding his head.

“Yeah. Sure. I’m happy to… I’m happy for you. I’ll be there for you.”

Harry had nothing against weddings. Up until it was the wedding of the woman he loved and he wasn’t the groom.

As Y/N’s man of honor he couldn’t exclude himself from the planning process. Choosing decoration, cake tasting…. dress shopping… he suffered through it all while he had to come to terms with his unpleasant fate.

Now it’s the night before the big day. The wedding is held in a botanical garden, there’s a small hotel connected to it, that’s where the guests are staying. It’s the perfect venue for the perfect wedding.

Y/N is in her suit with her bridesmaids while Harry is in his own room. His suit is hanging on the door of the closet next to his bed, haunting him about what he will have to witness tomorrow with a smile on his face. He already thought of ways to get himself out of it, but he knows there’s no excuse good enough to miss Y/N’s wedding.

His phone chimes on the nightstand with a text and when he looks at the screen Y/N’s name appears in the notification bar.

Y/N: come overrrr maid of honor!!

Then another text follows.

Y/N: we have champagne and I need my best friend here!!!

His thumbs linger over the keyboard, trying to come up with a reply, but then she keeps texting him, begging him to go over and he breaks. With a groan he puts on a hoodie and grabbing his keycard he heads down the hall to her suit.

What welcomes him there is exactly what he was expecting. It’s like a sleepover, the bridesmaids are drinking and dancing around, Y/N is wearing a cheap veil on her head that’s attached to a tiara, wearing matching PJ’s with the rest of the girls.

“Harry!” she beams when he is pulled into the suit by two girls, right into the middle of their little party.

Y/N runs across the room and hugs him, she almost loses her balance, but he catches and steadies her with an arm around her waist.

“How much champagne have you had?” he breathes out a short chuckle.

“Just a little,” she giggles. “Hey, I want to talk to you about something, come on.”

She takes his hand and pulls her into the bedroom, closing the door to have some privacy from the laughter and music outside. Her wedding dress is laid out on an armchair in the corner of the room, an open, pink suitcase by the bed, clothes flowing out of it. Her presence is all over the room and he wishes he could see these traces in his own home too.

He sits on the edge of the bed and watches her grab a lip balm from her bag. She applies it and then keeps it in her hands, playing, fidgeting with it.

“You seem worried,” he voices his thoughts.

“No, I’m…” She sighs, looking up at him. “It’s natural, right?”

“What is?”

“That… I’m scared.”

“Of marrying him?”

“No, just generally. It’s a big step,” she shrugs. “I always dreamed of my wedding and now it’s all happening, I’m just… I don’t know, I’ve been thinking a lot, but it’s all part of the ride, right?”

She is trying her best to sound calm and collected, but Harry knows her better than anyone and can see through the mask. He knows she is having doubts and though these thoughts could be normal, Y/N is never one to doubt her decisions, so her current fears are definitely raising his concerns.

And his hopes as well.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” Y/N just shrugs. “Did Oscar do something to make you question it all?”

“No,” she chuckles, but it’s more bitter than genuine. “He is amazing, really.”

The stinging feeling returns in Harry’s chest, but he just keeps listening to her.

“I just… I don’t know, sometimes I question if we were meant to be. It’s all been so easy and convenient and maybe it’s just all the books and movies, but I imagined… more.”

It’s like the tiniest light is now forcing its way through the dark, thick walls Harry has built up around him, a glimmer of hope that maybe he still has a chance to make it right, that he hasn’t missed his chance.

“Don’t marry him then,” he says, his heart hammering in his chest.

“What?” she chuckles.

“If you’re not sure, then don’t marry him.”

“Harry, I won’t call the wedding off. I love him.”

She turns away, but not before he could catch the look of doubt in her eyes, crystal clear, telling him this is the moment he missed all those years ago.

He stands up from the bed and there’s a second when he almost changes his mind, but he has to do it or he might lose his mind forever.

“I love you, Y/N.”

She stills, her back facing him.

“I love you too Harry,” she says. “You’re my best friend.”

“But I’m in love with you.”

She doesn’t answer for so long he starts to think she didn’t even hear him, but then she slowly turns around with an unreadable look on her face and he decides to continue.

“I’ve… been in love with you for so long, I don’t even remember what it’s like not to love you. I know it’s not ideal to tell you this right now, but I feel like if you’re questioning whether you should marry Oscar or not, it might… that maybe you’re…”

She’s still silent, just staring back at him, not giving away any emotion or thought.

“Y/N, you can still call it off. I-I will be by your side and if you want to try and—”

“Stop.”

“I know it’s scary, but I love you and I would do anything–”

“Harry, stop!” she raises her voice and it finally gets him to stop talking. Clenching his jaw he takes a step backwards.

Y/N exhales shakily, Harry is still unsure what she is thinking and the words are begging to keep bubbling from his mouth now that he started talking, but he swallows them down. Shaking her head she takes a step closer to him.

“You… Harry, I…” She is trying to find the words and Harry starts talking again, but he is cut off rather fast.

“I swear we–”

“You have the nerve to pour all of this onto me on the night before my wedding? Right after I tell you about my deepest fear?”

Now it’s clear to him. She is mad, her eyes are throwing flames, but he’s confused, this is not what he was expecting.

“Y/N, I just–”

“You just thought that choosing this vulnerable moment was the perfect timing to tell me you’ve been in love with me all this time?! What were you expecting, huh? That I would throw myself into your arms giggling and confess my love? Call my wedding off?”

“I-I’m… I don’t…”

“I can’t believe you! Get the hell out of here!” Turning around she wraps her arms around herself, breathing heavily. Harry reaches out and touches her shoulder, but she jerks away instantly. “Get out!” she screams. “And don’t even think about showing up tomorrow!”

Harry is in shock, denial, completely destroyed as he stares at the back of her head. He wants to beg for her to forgive him, to forget everything he said. He would rather suffer by her side than lose her, but he knows he has no choice now.

He walks over to the door, looks back one more time, but she is still turned away, her body shaking. He opens the door, the music floods into the room from outside and he walks out without a word.

He returns to his room, packs all of his stuff and under the shining stars, he drives away, barely seeing the road through his tears.

Anne’s backyard looks magical this time of the year. The blooming flowers, the bright green grass, it’s a beautiful scenery and Harry would love to bask in it normally, but now he is just blankly staring ahead of him.

It’s been a week since he confessed his love for Y/N at the worst possible moment and lost her forever. He has no idea who ended up being her maid of honor after his departure, he turned his phone off and hasn’t turned it on since. He would rather claw his eyes out than see all the wedding content from their mutual friends. He’s been hiding at his mum’s since then.

“Tea?” Anne’s chirpy voice asks from the sliding doors.

“No thank you,” he answers. Anne sighs and he hears her footsteps, but he doesn’t look her way.

“You know you can’t hide here forever, right?”

“If you want me out of here just tell me that.”

“You know I love having you here as long as you want, but you’ll have to face reality at one point.”

“I’m hiding for a bit more, thanks.”

Anne sighs again and Harry hopes she would just let him be, but also knows she likes to say what’s on her mind.

“You know she was mad at the timing and not your feelings, right?”

“Mum…”

“Y/N loves you, romantically or not, she loves you. She might have to get over how you chose the worst possible moment to tell her you love her, but she will come around. And when it happens, you better not still be a mess.”

The sliding doors close behind her and he is left alone with his thoughts again. He hates how right she is, but it still hurts.

Groaning he marches up to his room and digs his phone out from the depth of his suitcase. Turning it on the notifications start flooding in, texts, emails, voicemails, he is skipping most of them until his eyes catch one particular thing. Then another and he slowly starts to put the picture together and he fears he is about to have a heart attack.

The wedding never happened. Y/N didn’t marry Oscar.

He drops his phone as if it was on fire and starts packing right away. He needs to get to the bottom of this, he needs to know if it was because of his confession. Even if she screams and cusses him out, he needs to find answers. What’s the worst that could happen? He is already on the floor, there’s only up from here.

How is it that no one knows where she is?

Harry has been trying to track her down since he arrived back from the UK, going from one friend to the other, but no one knows where she’s been hiding since the catastrophic almost-wedding. Everyone is saying the same thing? she packed her stuff from the place she’d been sharing with Oscar, left and no one has seen her since. She just sent a few texts to her parents to let them know she’s alright, but that’s all.

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath as he heads back to his home, completely lost about where she could be.

He is trying to come up with other ideas as he is climbing the stairs up to his apartment. He slides the key into the lock, too deep in his thoughts to realize that it’s unlocked at first, but when he does, he freezes, then practically runs inside.

He spots the familiar pink suitcase first, then hears the footsteps and a few moments later Y/N appears down the hallway.

He is trying to find the right words, but nothing comes out his mouth as he is slowly walking closer to her.

“I still had your spare keys,” she says quietly. The anger he last saw from her is now gone, she looks so small and broken and all he wants to do is wrap her in his arms and never let her go. But he knows they need to talk first.

“Have you been here all along?”

“Yeah. I promise I didn’t read your diary.” She cracked a joke, but her weak laugh doesn’t fool him.

“It’s fine. How… How are you? I know you didn’t…”

“I didn’t marry Oscar? Yeah. And I feel like shit.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have told you then, I was an idiot, you were right. I chose the worst moment, used your vulnerability and tried to use it to my advantage. I am so sorry.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Of course I regret. My timing was incredibly awful and disrespectfu–”

“No, not the timing. That you… That you told me.”

He clenches his jaw, thinking of what to say, but he decides he needs to be honest with her and with himself as well.

“I don’t regret telling you. I’ve been keeping it a secret for a very long time and it needed to be said. I’m not expecting you to forgive me, let alone… consider giving me a chance, but I just want you to know that I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Was there any other moment when you wanted to tell me before?”

“The speed dating event,” he answers right away. “I had this ridiculous plan that you would find me the best match and I would… finally tell you how I’d been feeling. But then…”

“Oscar,” she breathes out.

“Yeah, Oscar happened,” he smiles bitterly.

She closes her eyes and he wishes he could read her mind, but he is just waiting patiently for her to process everything. Then she looks at him and finally starts talking.

“I thought you wanted to go there to pick up someone. I didn’t want to go, because I didn’t want to see you flirt with other girls.”

“What?” he whispers.

“I told myself I needed to get myself over you, because you’d never want me. Oscar was nice and funny, but… deep down I always kept comparing him to you. I hated myself for that, because he was so amazing, so caring and loving, but… not you.”

Tears start rolling down her cheeks and he can feel his throat closing up as well.

“I was so mad at you that night. You let me… go through with all that just to tell me you’ve always loved me the night before my wedding. I was angry and I felt like I was played with.”

“That was never my intention.”

“I know,” she nods. “When I calmed down I knew I couldn’t get married to Oscar. I went over to your room in the morning, but it was empty. I wanted to go after you, but I also needed some time to think.”

“And… where are you standing right now?” he asks as he walks over to her, but he’s still not touching her, giving her the chance to move back.

She never does.

“Do you still love me?”

“Y/N, I will never stop loving you.”

“Okay, good,” she breathes out. “Because love you too and if you–”

She doesn’t get to finish, he grabs her and kisses her like he should have all these years ago, like he wants to erase all the bad, the almost-wedding, the suffering, the miscommunication, nothing matters now that they finally met each other at the right time and place.

“Isn’t it funny?” she breathes out against his lips.

“What is?”

“That you wanted to tell me you love me at a speed dating event, but it took you the longest fucking time to actually confess. It was anything, but speedy.”

He can’t help but laugh, because she is right, it’s comical.

“Don’t they say good things take time?”

“Mhm, sure,” she grins, pulling him down for another kiss.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

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vettelsdarling · 1 year

Note

Darling, thank you for the AMAZING writing for my last request. <3 I am here with…HAMILTON! Here’s the prompt: 5+1: 5 times Lewis calls Y/N by a pet name and one time Y/N finds one for Lewis. I definitely think Lewis would shower his words of endearment and I am imagining a shy, blushing Y/N? Perhaps Y/N wants to find the perfect word/nickname to call her special person. Let your creativity run wild! I leave the rest up to you because I love your writings (obviously). Have fun!

𝐏𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

Lissie note… I am so glad you like my stuff<3 Thank you for this request!!! I’ve never really written anything like it before, but it’s an interesting prompt and I’m willing to give it a try!

Things to note

This is set in the 2020 season

Lewis and reader have been dating for a year and a half before that

Reader is an accountant

Tiffany appreciation

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tiniest bit of angst. Blink and you might miss it

Word Count: 4.2k+

Playlist recommendations: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗, 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

Taglist: @drugged-kitkat, @allwaysalleyway

You were walking home from your 9 to 5 job the day you met him. He’d been exploring the city he was to race in that coming weekend. With your face buried in your phone, aggressively replying to unanswered emails— you accidentally sealed your fate with the asphalt, tripping and falling onto the road. Luckily, it wasn’t an active one. He’d seen you scramble to scrape all your things together and rushed over to help you. Never had you seen such generosity from anyone before. You were used to people minding their own business if you fell or if you dropped something.

“You didn’t have to,” you’d said. He had a number of things in his arms that had spilled out of your bag… including feminine products. He hadn’t seemed to care though. He’d happily helped you load your things back to where they’d belonged.

“Of course I did.” You had managed to collect yourself before falling into conversation with him.

“You’re not from here, are you? I know most people in this town…” He was a new face. Not somebody who you’d seen before.

“Guilty as charged. I’m here for work.”

“What do you do?” It was forward and he had been taken aback but ultimately came up with something to string you along to.

“I’m an engineer… of sorts. You?” ‘Engineer’ made sense to you, as his style was very out there and the designer watches were more than your yearly salary.

“I’m just an accountant.” In stark contrast to him, you had on a white blouse and a grayscale checkered pencil skirt. Your ordinary uniform. Freedom was something you had to give up when you came in for work.

“I see… you work near here?” He had just been following you, not really paying any attention to where your feet had been taking you.

“Yeah, I do. About five minutes from here. Is your workplace near here or are you working from your house or hotel?” Your intention hadn’t been to pry, but the genuine curiosity drove you to ask him anyway.

“I guess it’s near? I can’t really say… if I’m being honest.” That was obviously not the best answer. He had every opportunity to tell you a white lie, but he slipped up somehow. Did it even matter though? He wasn’t going to see you again… was he?

Days turned into weeks. He had given you his number after getting you home safely that day. You hadn’t been in contact with him until he finally sent you a simple text: “Hey, it’s Lewis.” It had sent you spiralling. You hadn’t been sure whether to pursue the connection or let it slip. For better or worse though, you had replied with a short quip. Not intricate enough to suggest something, but not doing a full swing in the other direction either.

It was, however, enough to spark something between the two of you. A blossoming bud that turned into a bountiful garden. That was you and Lewis Hamilton.

1. Trophy wife

The two of you had been dating for a few years. He eventually cracked, and told you about his actual job on the second date. Though his true identity was a Google search away, it came as a shock to you. Never had you ever believed him to be famous. He was so down-to-earth and humble.

Over the course of your years of dating, he had tried to make you quit your job. Mostly because he wanted to support you, but also because he wanted to spend more time with you. Every waking moment he wanted to spend in your presence. You refused and turned down every offer he gave you. Dating a celebrity was already more than enough for you to handle. You wanted normalcy in your life. Even if that came in the shape of hell sent bosses who cared very little about your well-being.

“You know I can cover you. If that won’t sell you, then Roscoe must. You could take care of him whilst I’m gone.” It was another day of his notorious begging for him to take care of you. It was a sweet sentiment, but even living with him was too much.

“I’m already taking care of him. Lewis, you can’t just make me a trophy wife. That’s not who I am. I want to work,” you said begrudgingly and seated yourself by the kitchen island.

“Trophy wife? Please. You will never be some sort of arm candy for me to show off. I love you. I just want you to take a rest, love.” Lewis decided to deploy a deadly weapon. The pet name. If there was one weakness you had— it was whenever he referred to you with a pet name. It made you all weak in the knees and your feet would feel like jelly. Forget about cloud nine, you were swimming in warmth.

“That’s not fair, Lew. You can’t just do that to me.” You scrunched your nose at him and checked your phone for incoming notifications from your workplace text chain. Or so you thought it looked like. In reality, you were hiding your face from him. It was redder than the apple in the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter.

“Hmm, you know, I’m not so sure what you mean by that, my love.” Oh, how you wished he would stop. It was hard to resist giving in. Especially when he paired it with such a precious smile. Who’d be able to peel their eyes from that?!

“Look, we aren’t talking about this right now. I’ll be on my way now,” you scoffed and left, leaving your lover with the last laugh. Once again, you let him have his victory.

2. Flatscreen

A few months passed before he tried his luck again. With a new offer. Lewis tried to reason with you, but just like always— you simply would not have it.

“No. Never in a million years,” you snapped and closed the fridge a little too aggressively, remembering to mutter a quiet “sorry”. The Brit even got up early that morning to make you breakfast in bed— just for good measure. If you were in a great mood, surely you’d be more agreeable. Yet… he was utterly wrong. You were headstrong and did not agree one bit.

“You need it, sweets.” Again with the pet names. That was the final nail in the coffin for his begging.

“You can’t just expect me to splurge on a flatscreen simply to watch you race on more pixels! I can watch you perfectly fine on our current TV, thank you very much.” You poured him a glass of orange juice and scooped some protein powder in it as well. He drank it all in one go.

“Splurge? You won’t need to. I’ll buy it for you, okay?” He crossed his arms confidently and made sure to smirk like he always did whenever he tried to prove something.

“Okay? What do you mean ‘okay’?! You will not buy me a brand new flatscreen, Lewis.” Your face was flushed and your frustration was only piling up.

“You can’t tempt me with those things you call me. That won’t work.” Who were you kidding? You lived for his little pet names and those brief moments he’d hold you in his arms while the two of you stared into the early morning view.

“Whatever you say, sugar.” Oh, how you wish you threw the juice in his face instead of offering it to him.

3. Restaurant

You were standing next to Tiffany in the Mercedes garage. Both of you were wearing large headphones whilst watching the screens showing your boyfriends. It was hard not to make noise whenever Lewis overtook someone, but you were just able to contain yourself.

Tiffany was surprisingly calm and collected, but wasn’t afraid to groan and sigh if Valterri slipped up. You weren’t the type to show much of anything unless it regarded Lewis. It was something that you’d grown up with. A habit of sorts.

“How long have you been with Lewis by now?” Tiffany asked with a slight tug of her lip.

“A few years now… I don’t think we’ll ever get tired of each other.” You said that as if he didn’t bug you with his endless blabbering about wanting to spoil you and give you every black card he owned.

“That is just too sweet! I can only wish that Valterri and I will last as long. I certainly love him.” In a way, you envied her position. She was a professional athlete, much like her partner, whilst you were stuck counting numbers behind a desk all day. She was gorgeous too… it was as if a strike of adoration hit you whenever she passed you in the paddock.

“Yeah… Lewis is something else.” You watched him speed past the camera on the screen. A smile spread across your face, knowing he was doing his best.

Lewis managed to secure a pole position, giving you a kiss as he saw you in the crowd with all of the Mercedes crew. Your heart swelled at the amount of attention he gave you rather than his engineers. Especially knowing he was dead serious about his career and his coworkers.

The podium celebration was magnificent. He sprayed the champagne as if he’d won the lottery. Butterflies formed in your stomach at his pure glee. He was adorable.

There was an after-party, but Lewis had other plans in mind. He wanted to take you out for the night. Even though you didn’t mind partying, there was something in him that held him back from letting you do so. It felt morally wrong of him to drag you along to his work retreats.

“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” Your face was pressed up against the car window. His hand was on your thigh, gently caressing it. You could almost feel yourself dozing off.

“You’ll see when we get there, honey.” That one was fairly new. It felt more domestic too. That was probably why your cheeks were hotter than an iron.

“You’re crazy,” you said with a chuckle.

“Crazy about you.”

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll admit that was pretty lame.”

“Yeah, it was.” The two of you had a small laugh about it before turning some music on. The two of you had made a shared playlist. One that consisted mainly of your favourites. Since you had far too many, they outnumbered your boyfriend’s.

The ride was long, but the destination made it worth it. He’d driven you to a cliffside restaurant. It was quaint and cosy and had balcony seats. You could see the ocean and its waves cascading onto each other in a synchronized manner. It was beautiful. Lewis was a romantic. Not exactly what someone would expect at first glance, but he truly cared deeply for you and your needs. It was almost impossible to say no to him.

“Lewis… Thank you for this.”

“No, honey, thank you. I won today because you were here with me. It’s the first race you’ve come to in a while now.” The man was perfect.

“Yeah, and I’m sorry I haven’t been able to attend that many. My job won’t allow me and—”

“Hey- no- none of that. Stop making yourself the guilty party here. You’re doing what you love and you should not be worrying about me. I see you whenever I’m home and that’s enough for me.” Your fingers interlocked with his as he leaned in to peck your lips. The support he gave you couldn’t amount to anything you’d ever received from anyone. Even your own family.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

4. Bath

You were dead. Completely drained from your job. It felt like your body was that of a gigantic slug. You couldn’t move a single limb. Your brain had already checked out, so you were pretty much stuck. Being too tired to move, you decided to take a rest on the couch that you’d collapsed onto upon entering your shared home.

Your boss was a nightmare. He overworked everyone to the bone, and if you happened to pass into overtime, he refused to pay you for your extra hours. Was it fair? No. Was there anything you could do about it? Also no. You had to endure him for as long as possible. At least until you could find yourself a different company to work at. Quitting had been on your mind for some time, but with Lewis travelling all the time— you felt that you couldn’t just stay home all day. You still wanted to occupy yourself with a job.

The faint sound of Roscoe’s pattering paws could be heard inching closer. You didn’t mind looking after him. He was the sweetest and didn’t require much of you.

“I’ll take you out in 5,” you mumbled somewhat incoherently to the dog. He had politely plopped himself in front of the couch, staring at you with those adorable eyes. Your hand reached out to scratch him, as it would give you more time to stall and relax.

The more you contemplated whether or not to quit, the more you started leaning towards a self-destructive mindset. You wanted to work. You had to. It didn’t feel right for you to leech off of your boyfriend. That was simply not an option for you.

“I’m home!” You heard a strong voice boom throughout the house. It was Lewis, who had been out for most of the day. He was usually stuck in a billion meetings and was often hard to reach. You didn’t care about that though. You were just proud of him for working so hard. It made you feel guilty for not working nearly as hard as him.

“Hey, there you are. You don’t look well, are you ill?” He crouched down next to Roscoe to meet your face. Your eyes were closed due to the weight of your eyelids, but you lightly shook your head.

“I’m just really tired. Sorry, I didn’t take Roscoe out for his evening walk… I’m a bad dog mum.” Lewis chuckled lightly at the term you used to describe yourself. ‘Dog mum’.

“No need to worry about that. Your well-being comes first. How about I draw you a bath? I’ll take Roscoe out whilst you soak up some relaxing aromas.” If there was a ‘Boyfriend of the Year’ award, surely Lewis would win. He cared about the little things. The things you hadn’t even thought about.

“Thanks, Lew… you’re too good to me.”

“Nonsense. You deserve to be treated like royalty.” He stroked your cheek, causing your lips to tug upwards.

“I’ve been thinking about quitting.” You announced it out of the blue, but Lewis seemed unphased. Your eyes finally had some strength to stay open, so you looked straight into his. A mix of elation and calmness. That was your Lewis.

“That’s great. You shouldn’t work with a boss who doesn’t appreciate your efforts. Trust me, I would know. I’m lucky to have Toto, but I can’t even imagine working with some of the other team principals.” You knew about Williams’ fall from grace after the daughter of the former team principal stepped in.

“I don’t know though… I don’t want to stay home all day long and do nothing. I have to work, you know?” You had to face the music. There was no way you could quit and still be able to work. Accounting wasn’t special in Monaco. You were likely not someone a lot of companies were looking for.

“It doesn’t matter to me. I can take care of you, angel.”He really deployed your kryptonite. The name made your heart flutter as if the two of you were back in your honeymoon phase. It wasn’t fair.

“That’s a dirty trick, Lew. I’m not going to quit until I find a job I can replace my current one with. I’m sorry. It may not matter to you, but it matters to me.” Lewis got up and stretched before walking towards one of the many bathrooms,

“I’ll prepare a bath for you.”

5. New job

It had been a few months since you last brought up your work situation to Lewis. You had decided to continue until you’d eventually short-circuit. All that mattered was that you were a working girlfriend instead of a stay-at-home one. You didn’t have anything against that lifestyle in particular. It just wasn’t for you.

This day was special. You were cooking a vegan curry when Lewis came out of the shower to help you chop vegetables. It was a celebratory dish, as you had just been fired. Apparently, you had been doing ‘the bare minimum’ and that simply wasn’t good enough. Under normal circumstances, it would’ve been devastating to be fired, but you were elated. It sure as hell was better than quitting.

“What’s got you in such a giddy mood?” Lewis came up behind you and hugged your waist. Your body leaned into his and it was as if you were floating on clouds. Fluffy clouds of love.

“I was fired.” He pulled away from you and got the cutting board out.

“This is great news! We should eat out tomorrow to celebrate.” He started chopping up some potatoes to dump in the pot.

“I was thinking this could be a celebration. Just you, me, and Roscoe. We could throw on a good movie and all.” Lewis didn’t oppose that idea. He smiled and nodded, continuing his feat with the veggies.

Then it hit you. You’d be jobless. You hadn’t found a job to replace the old one with. A pang of guilt hit you like a freight train. You somehow managed to overlook the fact all day. Your breathing became hard and heavy. You had to take a break.

“Woah woah woah, what’s wrong?” You saw Lewis with the kitchen knife and apron. His image was getting blurry from tears you simply couldn’t hold back.

“I thought we were celebrating? What’s going on? Are you okay?” He put down the knife, undid his apron, and pulled you out of the kitchen. Luckily nothing was boiling.

“I just… I’m jobless,” you sniffled through your tears. The salty liquid coated your lips, and you could taste the despair. You slowly sank down onto the floor with him following suit.

“Well, that was the point,” said Lewis. You found it oddly comforting, but guilt still clung to every part of you. Like poison, you didn’t have the antidote for.

“I don’t want to burden you like that.” You were able to speak clearer after Lewis rubbed your back for support.

“You could never be a burden to me, okay? You are the reason I’m still standing here today with win after win. You motivate me to keep being strong and keep aiming for higher heights. How could you ever be a burden to me?” His words were like a warm hug. Your tensed muscles relaxed a little bit.

“I don’t know… I’ve never not worked before. I don’t exactly come from wealth,” you sighed. As much as it was about burdening your boyfriend— it was about your own values. Coming from what most would consider ‘middle class’, you always had to work harder than your peers. Monaco didn’t have time to wait around for you, so you always tried so desperately to catch up. It felt embarrassing. Your home country was just as forward and busy. There was never time for you. Working hard was a lifestyle that you had to pull off.

“Do you think I came from wealth? I didn’t. I worked my ass off to get here, and now that I have the means to spoil you. I want you to feel that you can take a rest, okay?” His reasoning was flawed to you. There was something about it that just couldn’t sway you.

“Lewis, I can’t be your trophy wife. I can’t.” You shook your head and swallowed hard.

“You won’t be. Think of this as your new job. You’ll have the responsibility to take care of Roscoe and keep the house clean and habitable. Is that not considered work?” There was no other offer on the table and there was no other option. The only way for you was that.

“Basically a housewife.”

“Darling, please.” Your stomach did cartwheels and the butterflies tumbled around in there.

“It’s okay. I’ll just have to make do,” you sighed and rested your face in your hands.

“Hey, at least you’ll be able to come to more of my races— if not all.” Wow, what a consolation… but he wasn’t exactly wrong.

“You know what? I have to make a call. I’ll be right back.” Lewis got up and made his way to the guest room for privacy. Meanwhile, you stared into the white ceiling. You felt so tiny. As if you were just a small speck of dust. An inconvenience. Muffled sounds were coming from the room Lewis had gone into. You could tell that it was about his job. Something that you already missed. Your boss was terrible, but at least you had something to do every day. At least he let you have 10-minute lunch breaks. Which, in retrospect, was far from enough time.

It took a while, but Lewis finally came back. His face looked as if he couldn’t contain himself. He seemed excited?

“Guess what.” He crouched down to meet your eyes.

“What?”

“You have a job.” He smiled and reached for your hand, helping you stand by supporting your waist.

“No need to rub in my new position as a housewife. I get it, Lew.”

“No. I pulled a few strings, and you’re going to be in the accounting department on my team.” Your eyes flew open in shock.

“What? Wait what?!”

“You get to work from home too, so it’s sort of like a compromise. You’ll be able to come to my races and you’ll be working like any other person. Your pay is higher than your last job too.” It was all too much, but you couldn’t turn it down after he’d just done something so grand for you. It’d be rude.

“Lewis, I genuinely don’t even know what to say. I mean, this is just amazing.” Your tears were all dried up on your face, and your eyes were gorgeous from them.

“You didn’t have to do this for me, you know?”

“I’ve told you so many times now; that I would do anything for you, darling.” Lewis was truly out of this world. His generosity and humbleness were his character. That was him. That was all yours.

+1. Handsome

The time had come for the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix to commence. Lewis was in the running position to bring home yet another championship. He had been dominating all season, so there wasn’t really a question of whether or not he’d win. That fate was sealed. It was just a matter of if he could snatch the last win of the season. You certainly didn’t doubt his skills paired with his car. He was basically unstoppable.

“You did great in the qualifying sessions, I’m sure you’ll do great now. You’re starting from pole position. You’ve got this in the bag, I’d say so.” You smiled as he got into his race suit.

“I have no doubts. I’ve got my lucky charm with me.” He looked at you with a silly smile plastered onto his face. Cute.

“I believe in you, handsome,” you cooed and winked at him before walking away, leaving him with the effects of having been called a pet name, when he’s usually the one to get the fun out of you. He felt his chest tighten and tingle. Perhaps the race would be in his favour after that one.

You were seated next to Tiffany again. The two of you were too focused on the race to have an actual conversation. You were completely immersed in your boyfriend, hoping that he’d not only win but also stay safe. You were convinced he wouldn’t do anything reckless though. That wasn’t like him.

He didn’t win, but at the very least he scored a podium finish. You were still proud of him. He was the 2020 world champion.

The crowd surge towards the podium stand nearly crushed you several times, but you were able to get in front of everyone else to receive a heartwarming kiss from your lover.

“You did so well out there, baby, I’m so proud!” His heart nearly stopped when you called him that. You pulled him in for a hug, before letting the engineers embrace him. The smile on his face was immaculate, and you couldn’t wait for the ceremony where he’d rightfully receive his trophy. You had been to the same ceremony a year prior, but something felt much more special about this year. Both you and Lewis had grown so much over the span of it, it didn’t feel real, but at the same time— you couldn’t remember how it felt before.

Safe to say, you were definitely going to stick around for a long time. Losing his lucky charm would be detrimental after all.

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻…

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! (𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙙𝙢𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨: 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧(𝙨) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚(𝙨) 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣.)

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alchemistc · 3 months

Text

for love that i'll keep tending | bucktommy 1/1

read on ao3

Tommy has been... stewing, for most of the night. There's no way around it.

He's been reserved, picking at the label on his latest craft beer, something he'd actually used his timeshare on the chopper to fly out to Colorado to pick up because Buck had gone down a research spiral and mentioned might be fun to try (after he'd gotten teary-eyed about the one dedicated to a brewery dog who'd passed), only the brewery didn't ship.

Eddie is almost positive they haven't had a fight. He'd spent an entire 24 with Buck, and even if Buck had been keeping silent about it -- unlikely, but always a possibility -- he'd definitely have been brooding about it. But he'd been normal. For the general rule of Buck, anyway, he'd been normal. Maybe even a little more chipper than usual. When he'd smacked a hand to Eddie's shoulder on the way to his Jeep, he hadn't even done the usual rigamarole of acting a little jealous about Eddie and Tommy spending time together without him.

Shit, is Buck losing interest?

But -- no.

No, because a week ago they'd gone to a call for a lost little girl in the canyon, and when they'd gotten to her and she'd told them all about going camping with her dads, and how she'd gotten turned around and lost, Buck had done his normal routine with kids and charmed her into calm, and when they'd found the guys frantically searching for their daughter an hour and a half later, Buck had gotten a look in his eye that Eddie had been seeing a lot of lately.

There was the general look he always gave kids -- babies especially, but kids in general -- like he found them more precious than anything else in the world. And then there was the look he reserved for parents and their kids -- contemplative, a little wistful, like he was remembering there was someone out there in the world with half his genetic makeup.

And then there was the one for gay men and their children. It wasn't like it happened a lot, but often enough that even Eddie sometimes wondered if Buck wasn't accidentally manifesting these meetings. It'd been happening with greater frequency since the moment Andi from B shift had unceremoniously dumped her new baby into Tommy's arms so that she could grab a slice of Bobby's famous apple pie before it was gone. Tommy'd been magnanimous enough to refuse to hand the baby back for most of the evening, eyeing her frazzled hair and the circles under her eyes and making the executive decision that she needed a break, even if it was just forty-five minutes at the station while they all celebrated the new arrival and the extra two weeks of maternity leave they'd had to practically sue the city for.

Buck's love of kids seemed to have laser-focused since seeing Tommy rocking a baby in one arm while he spoon-fed Jee-Yun cake in the seat next to his.

And Eddie hasn't ever really talked to Tommy about kids, in general. He's good with Chris, unfazed in the face of all his angsty teenage moods, happy to be drawn into conversations that even Eddie and Buck sometimes aren't sure how to navigate. He knows Jee's a little obsessed with him, and that it's a point of pride for Tommy. Denny and Mara are always begging Hen to invite him over more.

Maybe it's finally hitting, though? That a future with Buck almost certainly means children, at some point?

The heavyweight match ends with a technical KO in the third round and Eddie stands to grab another round of beers.

"I bought a ring on my day off," Tommy says, staring hard at his mostly empty growler, and Eddie drops back into his recliner with a grunt.

"Okay," Eddie tells him, leaning in with his elbows on his knees. Neither one of them speaks as the next bout is announced. It's technically the one they went halvsies on the package for, but Eddie doubts either one of them cares enough about it to refocus. "I gotta say, man, if you're having second thoughts I'm the wrong person to talk to, because I'm gonna get defensive and tell you you're a damn fool, and I doubt it's gonna be helpful."

Tommy turns to give him a look so unimpressed that Eddie's actually a little jealous. That, at least, is helpful.

"Okay. Good. Great, even. So, what exactly is it that's been making you leak existential dread all over my couch since you got here?"

Eddie can think of a couple different possibilities. He isn't Buck-close with Tommy, but they talk, and it's not like he hasn't been around the two of them together enough to not have been privy to some of the more intimate conversations they've had. Family is a rough subject for all of them. So there's still that glaring what if they haven't talked about kids possibility. Or just a general fear that Buck isn't ready for this step -- completely unfounded, but Tommy's a lot more insecure about this stuff than he tends to let on.

Tommy grimaces. Gestures vaguely, and shakes his head, before he finally makes eye contact. "Evan's the grand gestures guy. And now I've got a ring burning a hole in my pocket, and jack shit as far as how to propose."

And this -- this is actually the most delightful answer he could have given. This is primo blackmail material. The best man speech is literally gonna write itself.

Eddie lets him stir in it for a hot minute. He tilts his head back and forth, nods to himself, rolls his tongue over his teeth, waits, waits, waits until Tommy narrows his eyes at him and reaches for a bottle cap on the coffee table to toss at Eddie's head.

Eddie laughs. "You could ask him two days laid up in bed with the flu, covered in flop sweat, and the answer would be the same."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Clearly my point is that he deserves more than that, and I don't have a clue where to start."

"Well," Eddie starts, "I'm aware that everyone and their mother thinks I have a secret, elaborate proposal planned out for Buck already, but I am once again reminding you that we've been over this and I'm not actually hiding any unrequited feelings for the man you want to be your husband. So."

That saga won't make it into the speech. That's a private little story for the three of them to look back on, twenty years from now, and laugh about. That's a weekend stretch of conversations in the woods of Big Bear, sharing a tent that really should have only fit one of them, that Eddie will never be able to properly express his gratitude for.

"So you've got nothing," Tommy says, a little accusatory, a lot bitchy.

"Buck likes making big gestures, man. I have zero point of reference on what he'd like if the tables were turned."

But -- actually.

Tommy huffs, melting into the couch cushions like his marionette strings have been cut.

There's a thought percolating, though. He's just not sure --

"I shouldn't be worried," Tommy says, more to himself than to Eddie. It'd been an interesting revelation, half-a-year in, finding out that Tommy was actually kind of a yapper, once he was comfortable with someone. "We've talked about this. Marriage, kids, the whole nine yards. I don't know why I'm building this up in my head."

Which is unintentionally the most helpful thing he's said so far.

"I have... an idea," Eddie drops, tentative, as Pereira once again proves why he gets the title card every time he fights. Tommy's eyes snap to his, interested. "Depends how much you trust Jee to keep a secret."

She's her fathers daughter, so very little should be the answer. They'll have to keep her in the dark until day of. Probably find a way to keep Buck distracted until things are fully in motion.

Tommy leans in.

_____

Eddie's still riding the high of finally beating Josh and Maddie at pool when Buck and Tommy slide into the bar, the two of them grinning ear to ear. Eddie spots it first, and shoots a wide eyed look at Tommy, because they'd spent a week trying to plot out a time when everyone necessary to The Plan would be available for a long enough time to make it work without cutting corners. That day is still... three and a half weeks away.

And Buck's got a ring on his finger. Eddie's already seen it up close, a simple gold band, an inscription on the inside he doesn't really know the significance of, even if it'd made Tommy go a little moony-eyed when Eddie read it aloud.

Tommy... is also wearing a ring.

Dios, did Buck go out and buy a ring the night Tommy came over for the fights?

They're made for each other. They're both insane.

Buck isn't exactly subtle when he slams his hand down on the eight-top they'd snaked half an hour ago, and if Maddie hadn't immediately shrieked and drawn the attention of half the bar, Eddie is certain he'd have wiggled his fingers for emphasis. Maybe done a jig before he Vanna'd Tommy's bling, too.

Josh immediately monopolizes all of Buck's attention by demanding Buck tell him the story with haste, Buckley, so Eddie gets a chance to raise an eyebrow at Tommy, who quickly rolls his jaw to hide the massive grin threatening to overtake his entire face.

"Well I wasn't dying of dysentery," Tommy deadpans, as the smile leaks through at the corners of his mouth. His nose scrunches when he tries to bite it down.

"He forgot to put the box away before I got back from my run," Tommy admits, cheeks dimpling, and then the fight is out of him, left fist clenched tight so that the thick band catches in the overhead light, deep grooves stretching towards his ears as he unleashes the depths of his happiness upon the world.

Eddie can picture the mad scramble, the awareness that he's been caught, the doe-eyed grin that seems to be reserved specifically for Tommy.

Buck is making a gesture that is probably less obscene than it looks, based on the way Maddie continues to grin without any sign of pulling a face. Josh is sighing.

Chimney and Hen are gonna be pissed they were running late.

Eddie owes Hen twenty bucks.

("Yeah, have you met them? I'm taking bets right now, there's no way Tommy lasts a month with a ring and a plan.")

Maddie seems to realize at the same moment as Buck that they'd narrowed their focus so completely that the prospective fiance has had time to order drinks. She rounds on Tommy with the same unhinged joy she'd fostered in her brother, growing up.

"You didn't tell me!" she says, and Eddie assumes that means Tommy had (eventually, and god does he know way too much about how active their sex life is) divulged his plan.

"You would have told Howie," Tommy accuses, and when Maddie doesn't deny it Tommy just looks smug. His grin goes soft around the edges when he catches Buck beaming at him over his sisters shoulder.

Eddie takes the opportunity, before the rest of the party arrives and derails the conversation for a second retelling, to round the table and gather Buck up in a hug.

Buck's embrace is tight, and maybe a little teary. Eddie clings back, and thinks of the years and years of disappointed hopes, the loves that fizzled out, or burst into flames, the thing behind Buck's eyes that had only made itself known after Tommy stuck around.

Hen and Chim find them like that. He doesn't even let her get a word out before he's giving Buck a hearty smack on the back and digging for his wallet.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #eddie pov

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incorrectbatfam · 2 years

Note

dickie and jason headcanons pretty please

Everyone thinks Tim and Damian are a nightmare to have in a room together, but it's actually Dick and Jason. Tim and Damian still need to work through a thing or two and subconsciously pull their punches because of that, but Dick and Jason have no such thing. They've been siblings the longest and at this point it's an undisputed fact that they love each other, so there's zero limit to them being absolute menaces

They've been in a Toy Blast standoff since last year. Dick keeps speedrunning the levels and Jason keeps deleting the app from Dick's phone until he catches up

The bathroom switch in the Bludhaven apartment is outside the bathroom. Barbara kept telling Dick to get it changed and he kept procrastinating, so when Jason broke in and turned the lights off in the middle of Dick's shower, all Babs said from the other room was "Told you so"

Jason: "Alfred, tell Dick to quit breathing over my shoulder"

Dick: "Tell Jason to quit blocking the screen with his big helmet"

Alfred: "Sort it out yourselves, this is not in my job description"

Dick wrestled Jason for an Oreo but also gave him the comfier sleeping bag in the span of five minutes while they were on a stakeout

Jason is absolutely the sibling that chases Dick around the house with a knife for fun when Bruce and Alfred aren't around

Dick: "Get out of my room"

Jason, lurking outside the windowsill: "I'm not in your room"

Dick's outfits aren't truly considered nice until they pass the Jason Test, which is getting a "meh" instead of "you look like you were drawn by a fourth grader"

To brag that he got the last slice of pizza, Jason slapped it across Dick's face

The most accurate ruler in the world is the one they use to split the last candy bar (but Dick secretly lets Jason have an extra millimeter)

And the most accurate measuring cup is the one they divide the last of the apple juice with (though Jason generously gives Dick a few drops more)

The tension is palpable—even the Subway guy cutting their sandwich can feel it

Alfred sends them out to do yard work and they start sword-fighting with increasingly bigger sticks until Dick grabs a rake and Jason whips out the All-Blades

Jason: "I was here first!"

Dick: "I was born first!"

Jason: "I was adopted first!"

Dick has two Instagram accounts—Dick Grayson and Nightwing. Jason has three—Jason Todd, Red Hood, and the verified Nightwing

When the Cave is colder than usual, Jason brings Dick his favorite peppermint hot chocolate but always takes the first sip

Together they stole the bat-plane, flew to Lebanon for food, received a hefty fine after nearly colliding with a fighter jet, got a huge scratch on the side, paid someone under the table to fix it, and put it back where they found it in the span of Bruce debriefing the Justice League

Dick will go through Jason's leftovers, pick out what he likes, and leave the rest. Later he'll hear Jason walk out of the kitchen shouting "Who the FUCK took the shrimp out of my shrimp fried rice?!"

When they were kids Jason's bedtime was half an hour later than Dick's. Dick still has beef with Bruce about that

Dick is Player 1. Jason is Player 6 because the first time they played he grabbed a random controller from a box of dozen

Jason: "Help me bury this body"

Dick: "Sure"

Jason: "Also I need to delete all record of this guy's existence"

Dick: "Will do"

Jason: "And can you get me a drink?"

Dick: "Get it yourself"

When he first arrived, Jason was resistant to the idea of having an older sibling until he realized he has Younger Brother Privilege

Dick hides the remote with a sword swallowing trick and Jason hates it

They use texts for personal conversations, WhatsApp for vigilante business, and Snapchat for unhinged memery. It's like talking to 3 separate people

They also have their own text abbrevation: DTB (Don't tell Bruce)

They don't apologize, they just sulk in their rooms for a couple hours until Alfred calls them down for dinner and they forget all about it

Goon: "Who's that blue fella? Youse was fightin' real loud"

Jason: "Nightwing. He just pisses me off sometimes"

Goon: "I can take care of him"

Jason, lighting a cigarette: "Go ahead, I'll be here when you get your ass handed to you"

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anothermansjeans · 4 months

Text

never give you peace

s.r x youtuber!reader

summary: during their first date, youtuber!reader feels the sudden anxiety that they can never give spencer peace

cw: little angst; hurt/comfort?? mentions of going to a restaurant, strangers coming up to reader, reader is in their head :( the smallest mention of the foyet/haley plot

wc: 855

a/n: hi!!!!!! i would LOVE to take requests for youtuber!reader and spencer!! PLEASE send them in! i love these two sm. inspired by peace by taylor swift!

You didn't know when it started happening– the random people walking up to you asking for photos– you just gradually started to get used to it after twenty or so times. Normally, it wouldn't bother you. The people who support you and the reason you make YouTube videos deserve the world in your eyes, but now that you're here, walking down the streets of D.C with Spencer on your first date… it was bothering you… just the tiniest bit!

It took a while for you and Spencer to get to this point. A lot of phone tag (you were both very busy people), you being out of town, and Spencer being out of town really put the two of you through the ringer. To say you deserved this moment of having a proper first date would be an understatement, which is why these two sweet girls walking up to you with shy smiles put you on edge.

“Hi! You're Y/N, right?”

You and Spencer were supposed to be at the small bistro not even a hundred feet away at this point. If you were by yourself, you would be ecstatic to talk to them. Maybe you're a shitty person (you're not. Spencer would later make sure to explain that you're allowed to have boundaries and that talking to strangers normally puts people on edge). Maybe for once, you wanted to not talk to the people who made your career possible. Maybe you feel too bad even thinking this way that the people pleaser is screaming to come out. “Uh… hi.”

“Do you mind taking a picture with us? We’re obsessed with your videos.”

You've been hyper aware of Spencer by your side the entire time. He’s never seen you in your element with followers. You have no clue if he's ever been through something like this with anyone he’s previously dated, but you want to assume this is all new to him and you're probably scaring him away as the seconds tick by.

You're only brought out of your thoughts when you hear Spencer speak up next to you. “Go ahead.”

“Okay…” The process was relatively quick. Spencer offered to take the photo, the girls thanked him profusely, and about five photos total were taken. When Spencer returns the phone the two turn back towards you with wide smiles plastered on their faces.

“Thank you so much! Have a nice night!”

And that was that. Except, it didn't feel like it was done. There was an awkward feeling settling over the two of you, but nothing was said as Spencer linked your arms back together and continued to walk to the bistro.

It was eating at you the entire time you've been in the restaurant. He never brought it up though, always steering the conversation to your shared interests and throwing in a fun fact now and then. It was right before the check came that you finally had enough with the all-consuming thoughts and blurted out the only thing you could truly focus on.

“I could never give you peace.”

“What…?” His wrinkled eyebrows did all of the talking.

“My… job. More people have been doing what those two girls did– asking for pictures. And I know how serious your job is, if people start asking for pictures of you too… I don't want to put you in that position.”

It was quiet for a moment. Although he was a genius, Spencer needed a moment to take in what you said. “Ditto.”

What? “What?” You slapped your hand over your mouth. You did not mean to say that out loud.

He didn't flinch, going straight into explanation. “My job is serious. Serial killer serious. My boss lost his wife because of this job. If you're worried about me in regards to your job, I’m worried out of my wits for you.”

“So… if we both can't provide peace?”

“It's a good thing I enjoy a little chaos.”

A small smile was shared between the two of you, and after the waiter dropped off the bill, you took another look at him. “Well, Dr. Reid, you really are a genius. You solved a majority of my fears with one small conversation.”

“It doesn't take a genius to see what he has in front of him has great

potential to be one of the best things in his life.”

A smirk appeared on your face when he shyly looked at you. “That good, huh? Does that mean I scored a second date?”

“Of course!” Spencer perked up, eyes immediately widening. “Did you know that the typical success rate for getting a second date is 13.7%, which gives a match an opportune time to learn the real chemistry between them and their match, including their values, passions, and family? First dates are actually–”

Sitting there, listening to him changed the smirk to a genuine smile. Maybe the two of you couldn't provide peace on the outside, but as he continues to speak passionately, you feel nothing warmth spread throughout you. The same type of warmth you feel at home; the same type of peace.

#SEND ME REQUESTS FOR MY LOVES!!#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid x reader #youtuber!reader #anne marie shut up pls :)#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic

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tadpoles-and-daydreams · 4 months

Text

A ramble on imposter syndrome and the accessibility of witchcraft

So, I’ve been thinking. I think a lot in case you haven’t noticed. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about the major imposter syndrome I’ve been feeling lately in regards to this blog. TL;DR is at the bottom of this post.

People have been, occasionally, sending me asks requesting my opinion on things/how I do things/what I know about XYZ topic. If you are one of these people, I promise I’m not vagueposting about you in particular- in fact, I love these questions! They’re so fun to get and they actually make me sit and think sometimes, or even encourage me to write out something that I’ve been meaning to for my book of shadows. Genuinely, they're wonderful asks to receive. These questions have made me confront something, however; my blog is still small, but some people actually like what I write and value my opinion even if just a little.

I feel like a mimic hiding in the witchcraft community. I feel like, were people to truly understand my experiences, they would want to “expose” me for knowing so little.

So I sat down with those feelings and turned it over in my head and I’ve come to a conclusion. The fact is, I don’t do research. At least- not what I think of when people talk about research. My "research" consists of the occasional rabbit hole I go down, one and two halves of different books I never finished under my belt, what I see scrolling through various social medias, and conversations I've had with other witches. I check to make sure I'm not stepping on the toes of any closed practices- in fact, that's what most of my energy goes to when it comes to research. This isn't a complaint; I'd much rather know that my craft isn't appropriative.

But I don’t know much about mythology, even that of the deities I work with. I don't even remember the holidays and what they're for. I thought Nyx was an Egyptian deity until like four months ago because I'd just heard her name in passing as a child and had never looked into the mythology... Even though I mainly work with the pantheon she belongs to. Y’all, I’ve done like three spells that I remember. My book of shadows is a messy disaster and I love it but it's got so little information in it, because I rarely write things down. Most resources (especially mythology resources) are academically worded or difficult to read for me personally, and all of these things feel like secrets I have to guard with my life because if I were to ever say them aloud, people would know I'm a fraud.

Today I've come to the conclusion that that is, in fact, absolute bullshit.

Maybe it's not, maybe this post will make some people really upset, but in my practice it's bullshit. All of the above is a result of my ADHD and the fact that I am nothing if not a hands-on learner. My craft is mostly my own experiences because that's how my whole life is; I learn by doing. My ideal learning style is sitting with another autistic person whose special interest is whatever I'm learning about and just talking for five hours, but if that's not something I can do, puzzling it out myself is the next best thing. That's what I've been doing ever since I felt had a basic foundation for my craft. Hell, even before I had a foundation I was putting my own experiences into my craft because "Well that rule just doesn't fucking vibe with me."

This post is mostly for me, but partially for anyone who feels similar. We are not broken or doing witchcraft/paganism wrong. We are simply what happens when the kid who could never do homework ends up practicing the "religion/spirituality that comes with homework." Witchcraft and paganism, in my experience, is far from accessible when it comes to the typical image of it. UPG is what makes it accessible. So yes, my practice is heavily UPG, and I don't do as much research as I think people have assumed. But I'm going to let go of the idea that I'm a fraud, because frankly I know enough about witchcraft to have supported my practice this whole time and my deities haven't smited me yet so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TL:DR:

Fuck the rules, I don't do much research. I've researched the "basics" and what I need to so I'm not stepping on any toes of closed practices, but people seem to think I know way more than I actually do. I've felt like I was lying this whole time but frankly witchcraft just isn't accessible to someone with my flavor of auDHD, so my craft relies heavily on UPG and I've decided that I'm not broken or wrong for that and neither is anyone else. I'm tired of seeing myself as an imposter just because I make my practice doable for me.

#I feel weird about posting this but Loki seems thrilled #of course he is though #“fuck the rules” energy is their whole deal #Frog's writing #shit did I use caps in my previous posts?#Frog's Writing #frog's writing #there we go now it doesn't matter lol #witchcraft #witchblr #pagan witch #pagan #witch community #paganism #deity work #eclectic pagan #paganblr #witch blog

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atxxzist · 6 months

Text

sweetest lies | c.s (03)

prev // series m.list

pairing: choi san x f!reader

word count: 7.7k

warning: none but lmk

you didn't want to go home because you knew that you'd have to face your sister.

look her in the eyes and see those very lips that yunho kissed and those hands that he probably held on more than one occasions, the wound still too fresh that it all still hurts.

but you didn't think you'd run smack into her before you could even pass the entrance, stopping in your steps immediately with surprised eyes similar to hers, the both of you swallowing down the same time as the air turn an awkward one.

you're about to just walk past her, the day from work leaving you tired and not in the mood for another long conversation about the topic, when your sister musters up the courage to let out a soft, "can we please talk?"

the tone aggravating you more than anything; how she can still sound so sweet and worried after what she's put you through.

you huff and merely roll your eyes, absolutely refusing to look at her although you know it's silly and petty--you being the older one but holding a grudge like no other, so much more less mature than her.

"i don't know what else is there to talk about," you respond, trying your very best to sound annoyed.

but she continues to make you feel worse with an even sweeter tone, "i'm sorry. i really am." and you can already picture the pearls in her eyes and pout on her lips despite still facing the other way.

"i know you like yunho. i do. but..." he's too handsome and charming; too sweet and kind that she also can't help but fall for him. she would never intend to steal him from you if he didn't return the sentiment.

"but he likes you too," you finish for her, something shifting in you that makes you finally look her in the eyes. "i get it. what am i gonna do? you're two grown consenting adults so i'll get over it."

you didn't even think such words could ever come out your mouth, but for the first time sounding surprisingly selfless because maybe talking to san did helped out a little.

there's a silence after that you're sure has marked the end of the topic, striving a step forward when her voice stops you again.

"we're planning on telling mom and dad and yunho's parents over dinner..." she says, delivery timid like she's just the slightest scared of your reaction.

you gulp down the knot, mumbling a dry, "good luck with that." and sliding past her.

you start seeing how truly mundane your life is once the person it used to revolve around is no longer there.

how, it’s a continuous cycle of work and coming home to a big empty house most days and watching reruns of shows until you’re bored out of your mind.

which is how you wind up at a co-worker’s house party, the young woman from the office next to you going by the name of dahyun kindly asking after a conversation with your boss about the paperworks regarding the transfer.

she joined the firm a few months after you but you’ve always known her to be outgoing and a people’s person, recalling the girl’s familiarity with everyone from the floor her second week of work.

it wasn’t like you had anything better to do, so you accepted the invitation and saved the following day for a night of fun, or at least you hoped so.

dahyun had said it’s just gonna be a regular house party; none of that crazy frat bullshit with the chance of someone under 20 attending, so it’s just gonna be chill and relaxing.

fives minutes into your arrival and it’s not too bad but you already find yourself hiding in a corner despite recognizing a few faces from the same working floor.

“if you’re gonna be here, you should at least try and have some fun.”

the familiar sounding voice from behind makes you quirk a brow, barely looking over your shoulder to see, probably the least expected person standing with amusement in his expression.

“seonghwa?” you say in disbelief, your body naturally following your curiosity to stand before him. “the fuck you doing here?”

“attending the party, isn’t that obvious?” he quips, continuing to close the gap before stopping with just enough space.

you scoff and roll your eyes, the sight bringing a smirk onto seonghwa’s lips.

“shut up. you know what i mean.”

“dahyun’s a friend,” he says casually, the answer making you squint.

“seriously? hongjoong and now you?” the complaint rolling off like it’s seonghwa’s fault. you can only cross your arms and sulk.

you can’t even recall the last time you actually saw seonghwa. it must’ve been your graduation or one last coincidental meeting… you don’t remember. it’s been that long.

“yeah, cause you have better things to do?” he pokes fun at the very obvious fact you came alone. “where’s that jeong boy? you know, the one that always got you on a leash.”

between hongjoong and seonghwa, seonghwa’s always been the more calm and level-headed of the two; being the voice of reason when you and hongjoong would lose it.

but on the occasion when he’d just let it go and be snarky, seonghwa could really pull a nerve.

“is that all people associate me with?” you have the audacity to click your tongue in annoyance and scoff like you didn’t do it to yourself.

seonghwa snickers.

“oh i’m sorry. it was just my most recent memory of you,” he says cheekily. voice calm but you know there’s hidden animosity underneath.

he never explicitly said whose side he took, but it was obvious from how he treated you the same as hongjoong did. it only made sense because they’ve known each other before you even came along.

you never fault him, knowing it mostly had to do with your own fuck-ups.

“hmm,” you hum, tone setting into the same sarcastic and dry one he has. “well, it’s nice catching up and all but i don't feel like reminiscing the past, so if you’ll excuse me.”

because you can admit your wrongdoings and also be both embarrassed about it, attempting to brush past him when his speaking voice stops you in track.

“hey, i was just trying to find something to talk about after all these years,” he says, half chuckling and staring at you from the opposite side now that you’ve managed to make it past him.

you snicker lowly.

“what?” you quirk a corner of your lips, continuing with amusement in your voice, “then you’re gonna say sorry? or expect me to?”

he shrugs.

"that's your choice."

but his body language now shifting, that playful look no longer in his eyes or tone, it's almost scary how fast it happened.

the next few seconds is a silent stare off, the only sound is the party music in the background and the slight beating of your heart at the ominous delivery.

"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying... your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."

seonghwa thinks you have too much pride; the same thing you believe to be keeping you intact is gonna be your ultimate downfall because even when you're clearly wrong or you know you're wrong, you never say it.

you're one to keep it bubbled inside and carry the guilt just because you think you should be unbreakable at all times. it's such an unrealistic standard you've set for yourself.

you raise a brow at that, tilting your head in confusion.

"i know how to say sorry," you tell him sternly, attempting to convince him as much as you are to yourself.

“i’m uhm… i’m sorry,” you utter lowly, sounding and appearing ashamed by the way your fingers fiddle with each other at your front, san almost can’t believe it.

“pardon?”

“i’m sorry, about this morning.”

it's beyond comprehension how san must've been the first person you've genuinely apologized to after going so many years of the word kept to yourself.

it must've been the absolute humiliation and loneliness that day that really got to you, breaking you down until you were so vulnerable with nothing but the choice to fold in front of the one person you felt you could still confide in.

san being that person is also beyond what you can explain.

but seonghwa only merely puffs and crosses his arms.

"i just think it would be great if we could be friends again one day," he says, the ominous dropping and voice turning soft and reminiscing again that it makes your eyes go wide before you see a smile turn up on his lips.

"if you ever want to reach out to me or hongjoong again, you know how to find us."

he leaves his last words of the night opened and vague, disappearing off with one last smile before he's out of your sight, leaving you with much to think about--just exactly as he intended.

there's only so much excuses to make or places to be after work just because you don't want to be there for dinner, knowing it's the day both yunho and your sister are gonna tell your parents and his the good news.

know that they're all gonna react with surprise and be so happy for them, erupting in cheers and congratulatory words that the two children they've been rooting for the longest time has finally gotten together.

there really isn't a lot, that you just sucked it up and stayed the few extra hours overtime to make up for all the instances you've slacked off, even starting on work saved for the following day, hoping it's long enough to just miss the dinner.

and just enough it is, you return right as the table's just about to be cleared, the chitters and chatters around loud enough to drown the opening and shutting of the front door with yunho the only one catching your presence standing in the hall.

"they were really happy, yeah..." he says awkwardly, standing before you in the cold chilly air of the backyard.

you really didn't want to talk about it anymore, the subject like beating a dead horse at this point. but yunho had approached you so cautiously and calmly, something genuine in his action that you couldn't say no when he asked to talk for one last time.

"hmm," you merely hum, really not made for comforting or encouraging. most of the anger already dissipated although the hurt's still there, you can't bring yourself to not feel even the slightest happy for him, even if the smallest percentage because you saw the biggest smile ever on him back at dinner.

you contemplate on what to say because yes, you're still hurt and feeling betrayed, but it's not like you can hold it over his head forever. he isn't some stranger you can easily avoid.

he's yunho and you're just gonna have to get over it; not just for his sake but also for yours just so you can feel a little more at peace and move on.

"i'm sorry," he suddenly let out, your head snapping from the ground and to his guilt-ridden eyes.

because though he still stands by what he said, not a single word a lie, the few days apart also allowed him to think outside of the box--especially from your perspective.

how selfish he really was from the start, playing along when he was being dishonest the entire time, and how much pain he could've saved everyone if he hadn't been such a coward.

if he hadn't wanted the best of both worlds and knew he would lose you in some way if you found out how he actually feels.

you have to blink a few times, feeling like a lost puppy under yunho's apologetic gaze because you honestly believe that in comparison, you have so much more to be sorry for.

and as if he could read your mind; your expression speaking for itself because you have a certain look of bafflement or aloofness whenever you feel guilty.

you won't ever say outright that you're wrong, but your body language always gave it out.

it was one of the very first traits he picked up from being around you, having seen it for himself at the starting age of twelve when you pushed a much younger san to his injury and cried--not because you got yelled at by your parents but because you felt bad.

and how distracted you were at the movies the entire time after your fight with hongjoong because you confessed to yunho a few days later that you were being a shitty friend.

you have such a way of dealing with your emotions, he wishes for there to be an outlet for you to deal with them in a healthy and accepting manner.

one that doesn't depend on him or anything else for all the wrong reasons.

"i'm sorry," he says again, eyes now softer but still sincere. "i know i already said this last time but i really got carried away and couldn't finish. but i truly am sorry. i should've told you sooner. i should've never given you any sort of false hope, and i should've just been honest from the start."

he's sure he's out of breath when he finishes, just waiting for you to now say something in return because despite all the ups and downs and shortcomings, you're the one who's been with him through most of his lowest points and he's so grateful for that.

he wouldn't want to lose you over this.

you stay quiet for a few seconds more, a mental battle in your head just so you'll be able to form something coherent when you do speak.

"we both just weren't right for each other," you say, pausing briefly, "in that way... at least."

because yunho hid things from you and you were so in your head you were convinced he was in love with you at one point, always looking at everything through a rose-coloured glass but now able to see for yourself once it cracked, just how destined it was to fail from the start.

"sorry," he mumbles, low and head still hanging in shame, you can't help the dry chuckle that falls from your lips.

"you don't have to keep telling me you're sorry. like what i told minjeong: i'll get over it."

he picks his head up from the more cheery tone, the smallest smile forming on your lips that takes him by surprise because of the illusion it gives off; that you were able to come to terms with it so fast, but he knows you and knows it's all just a facade.

nonetheless, he nods, gulping silently to pass a comment.

"i hope you're taking care of yourself."

you smile, turning your back on him and crossing your arms to stare up into the stars in the nightsky who's currently the witness to the end of your 'relationship' with the boy you've loved your whole life.

"i've considered transferring work. it's not set in stone yet, but i did talked to my boss and he said he'd help me look for an opening if i'm interested."

you think it will be good if you can seek your own independence for once, unable to think of a better time than this one.

and though you can't see yunho, you can tell he's intrigued by how his question squeaks slightly when asking.

"where would you be transferring?"

"japan," you answer, once again facing him. "it's different, but close enough where i don't have to feel like i'm halfway across the world. my boss said i have about two months-ish to make up my mind."

plus, japanese is the only other language you're fluent in. the country a similar but new enough experience and the true testimony to how you'll be, away from the grasp of your parents.

"i see," yunho replies, nodding in understanding; so much to say but at the same time unable to say anything. he wouldn't ever want to hear someone he's close to plans on moving away, but he's almost proud of you for taking that next step.

"feel free to call me up any time if you need help," he adds, a soft smile gracing his features that makes the moment so bittersweet. you wish you have the guts to hate yunho, but you really can't after all he's done for you.

you nod lightly, at the same time allowing yourself to enjoy the breeze and calm silence before letting all your guards down.

"yunho..." you call his name almost timidly, the boy responding that immediate second.

"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying… your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."

"i'm sorry," you finally tell him, to wide and surprised eyes--unsurprisingly.

"i'm sorry for putting so much pressure and baggage on you. i also should've asked about your feelings from the very beginning. i shouldn't have just... assumed."

yunho knows it's the sincerest form of apology without the need to say a lot. from the nervous timbre to the guilt in your eyes, and even the way you start fiddling with your fingers.

he only snickers, much to your initial mixed reaction until you start warming up to it as well, the low but very real giggle leaving you putting a smile on yunho's face.

"apology accepted," he says.

you allow another giggle before cutting it short and looking at him through your blinking lashes.

"if you guys have went to this extent, then i hope you'll treat her right, jeong yunho."

you leave the night at that, a sting in your chest but you know that soon enough, you'll be relieved of it and you won't even think about him anymore.

it's after sitting down for a few minutes that you get a text from san, the funny coincidence that you were just talking about the transfer with your boss as well.

san: yunho told me

san: it's true you're gonna be leaving for japan?

you honestly can't recall how san even got your number. it must've been something you did drunkenly or he must've asked for it from yunho. but for sure, you did not give it to him willingly.

y/n: he really be snitching, huh

san: so it's true ☹️

you roll your eyes and try preventing even the smallest smirk. you haven't seen the man ever since that day and now is when he decides to reach out again.

y/n: maybe 🤷

san: 😔

san: just when we were starting to get along too

y/n: lol. you'll be fine.

shaking your head, you put your phone down to return to work, thinking to yourself there's no way san's actually serious because you're sure even if you did move halfway across the world, he would barely notice you're gone.

ten minutes of silence from your phone and you're also sure he's given up on the act--when your notification buzzes again.

san: ☹️ thought you weren't gonna run away

y/n: i'm not

y/n: i just want to do something different

san: if you say so

san: you free this evening?

y/n: i get off work in about 3 hours

san: wanna do something? 🙂

y/n: well aren't you a changed man 🙃

san: i thought it was nice the other day and i just figured you might need a distraction

you have to admit the fact you were taken aback a little; in a surprisingly good and touching way that san would care about you so much as to consider the after effect of what have happened.

y/n: if you're up for it 🤷 not like i have anything better after work

san: awesome! i'll see you then 😉

it's not everyday that you go waltzing into a guy's place; if at all, actually, because you've ever only graced the presence of the house next door because unlike san, yunho never had the urge to get his own place or be away from the watchful eyes of his parents.

it only takes two knocks in total for the door to come apart with san standing before it, a smile on his face and every body language welcoming.

"that was fast," you comment, walking past him to get inside.

"i was waiting," he says, calm and relaxed. "you took a lot longer than you said you would."

you shrug and plop yourself down on the couch, head snapping his way to reply.

"i had to get out of my work outfit."

he acknowledges it with a nod before seating himself next to you, his phone sitting on the coffee table in front of you gone unnoticed until you see him pick it up.

"what to order?" he scrolls through the delivery app, the same time you quirk a brow.

"stew sounds really good right now," you say.

"soft tofu stew?"

"that's fine. but make it spicy."

you weren't sure what you guys were gonna be doing once you came over, but he had just said to hang out and you thought any form of entertainment was better than none.

"any drinks?" he asks, after placing the order and getting up to walk over to the fridge.

"got any sodas?"

"i got some coke."

"that'll do."

he returns with two bottles, setting it on the table with a smirk stickered on his face, you have to reframe from rolling your eyes.

"what? no alcohol tonight?" he teases, his back falling onto the couch with hands behind his head.

"not in the mood," you reply, straight and simple.

"fair enough," he mumbles.

you let your eyes wander for a few more seconds before asking, "so, what's the plan?"

he gets up to sit straight and look you in the eyes.

"i was thinking a movie, video games, or we can just talk over food."

you hum with straighten lips, nodding and making yourself at home when it's your turn to fall back on the couch.

"anything's fine," you tell him, patting at the material under you and adding, "great couch by the way."

"yeah. it cost a fortune."

"good thing that wasn't a problem," you jab lightheartedly, because you always have wondered what the hell san does all day, besides the very obvious fact that he lives off the wealth of his parents and doesn't have to worry about anything when it comes to money... at least.

"i know what you're thinking," he says, not reactive of any kind.

"no but seriously, what do you do all day?" you ask, genuinely curious and interested this time.

he just quirks his lips, responding in the most lax tone, "enjoying life and doing what anyone in their 20s would?"

you scoff and shake your head.

you really do wish to be as untroubled and carefree as san is. the way he deals with and confronts everything as if there isn't a single thing to lose.

“it definitely bothered me at first, but i didn’t see why i should be losing sleep over it. me and yunho are two very different people after all who does our own things. i’m proud of what he’s achieved so far, and he’s always had my back when needed.”

you almost can't help but to have the tiniest respect for him in that regard.

"good to know." you giggle. "but what's the plan after?"

"working on it. but not really in the hurry to rush it or anything."

you nod courtly at that, another sinking thought about how similar, yet different the two of you really are.

growing up, you've never really paid much attention to san, always writing him off as annoying and obnoxious, but when left with no choice but to face him on a deeper level, you can't help but to notice the stark differences despite relating to him more than yunho.

"and you... are you really moving? like forreal?" he says, tone a soft worried that you almost want to believe he would be sad about you leaving... being this adamant and all.

"yeah," you answer, the disappointment befalling his expression completely flying over your radar. "forreal."

"but why?" he pushes.

you shrug, everything about you relaxed--as opposed to the boy standing across as he tries to digest the very big possibility of you going away, and most likely for a long time.

"i told you i wanted to travel."

"that's moving to a whole different country," he states the obvious, much to a laughter from you as the uneasiness on him only becomes more transparent.

you laugh some more, going on to say, "don't tell me you're actually gonna be sad?" your lips forming a frown after to tease him, and for the very first time, you think san might've blushed a little.

he opens his mouth as you watch curiously, but the moment shortly disrupted by the sound of san's phone going off.

"delivery will be here in 10 minutes," he tells you still holding the device in his hand before he tosses it aside.

"i also just want to try being on my own for a while," you bring the topic back into discussion when it seems like he isn't gonna answer the question.

you add, "if i do get moved, it will be on my own accord and everything will be from my own pockets... not my parents or anyone else. boss said i have about two months and i most likely will have to train the replacement but i think it's all gonna be worth it."

you're unable to read into san's reaction, silence filling the air until he finally speaks again.

"if you want to learn to be on your own, why don't you just get a place first? you know, instead of moving across the country. as someone in the current position, it's pretty nice if i say so myself."

your lips draw into a thin line, not because he's wrong but because you've never actually thought of that. you pretty much did just jumped ship into the next big step.

"i've uh... i didn't think of that," you mumble, the words cracking a smile on san's face before a snicker rolls out.

"jesus, y/n. a bit dramatic aren't you?"

"shut up," you hiss.

as the night goes on, any doubts and worries are long forgotten when the chatters with san would go on even after the food's arrival, both chewing and talking at the same time like you're never gonna run out of topics.

the eating soon turns into a search for something to watch while the two of you squabble about anything and everything, forgetting what the hell you're even fighting him about and being surprised you could even get this worked up without the help of alcohol.

and after you're both finally worn out from the long night; the foods on the coffee table now empty and dry and the tv running for far too long, you help clean the place up when it seems he's fallen asleep and quietly make your way out of the condo shortly after.

tuesday 4:32 p.m.

san: how about this one? looks really nice and is kind of close to my place 🙂

san: *attachment*

y/n: that looks way too fancy and expensive

y/n: i just want something that's enough for one person

it's impressive; the fact san even entertained the idea of leaving everything you've already got in mind to settle for something else, but even more so that you're even considering it.

getting a place of your own and learning to live on yourself would be a lot more doable than moving across the sea and away from everyone and everything you've grown up with.

you suppose it's not a bad idea. you're just not sure if it's the right one.

san: you're not gonna find anything if you're gonna be this picky 🙄

y/n: i'm just looking

y/n: if i'm really gonna stay, i'd do the search myself

san: 😢

you don't even realize how san starts weaving into your daily life and just integrating himself into it; whether through small, mindless texts, or bigger ones like actually inviting you out or over to his place (more frequently, at least).

wednesday 1:20 p.m.

san: what time do you finish work today

y/n: i always finish at 6

san: wanna come over? i got a game we can play 🙂

y/n: it better not that stupid truth or dare

san: ☹️

san: it's not

san: it's truth or dare spin the bottle

y/n: 🥱

san won't admit how fast he came at the sound of the first knock, and you also won't admit that despite him looking very much the same, there's something different about him lately.

something you can't pinpoint but it's almost as if he's gotten more attractive somehow even though you've never really cared about any of that.

"did you wear that to work?" he comments on your outfit as you make way past him and settling inside.

"yes," you answer dryly, tone soon overturning. "what? you think i was gonna get pretty?" you smirk.

he shrugs, mumbling a "maybe" that you quietly let pass to take off your shoes.

"wanna see a few places i've looked up?" he beams, going over to the laptop that was on the kitchen counter and running over to you on the couch with it.

"why not," you mumble, scooting closer, shoulder bumping into his nonchalantly.

you watch him scroll through the abundance of luxurious condos alike his, opting to raise your brow and turn to him.

"why are they all high-profile and in gangnam?" you question.

"pfft," he scoffs, facing you head on, standing the closest he's ever been to you in a long while and remarking, "it's not like you can't afford it. come on, y/n."

"i can't." you move away from him. "if i even get a place, it's gonna be with my own savings, not my parents. i definitely can't afford a place like these. can we please look at something a little less flashy?"

he shakes his head and eventually changes the area, but an hour into the search and you're still not satisfied. the prices are either not doable or the layouts and amenities aren't to your heart's content.

"let's continue this another day," you sigh out, throwing your head back and groaning as san chuckles.

"fine," he gives in, shutting the laptop and moving it out of sight. "you're so picky."

"well you got to be. i'm sure you didn't pick this place out in a day," you say at the same time you look around.

on your own, there's no way you'd ever be able to get anything like this.

"and you don't think it's nice?"

"are you kidding?" you say in disbelief. "it's amazing. if i had the money, it might as well be my dream place. but it's okay. i can also settle for much less as long as it accommodates all my needs."

san can't help but laugh, because he thinks you're both the snazziest person he's ever met, but also the most tame, it's a bit uncharacteristic of someone who grew up wealthy all her life.

"fair enough," he says, standing up abruptly to go grab at an empty beer bottle also on the counter which you're sure he most likely prepared for, given his next set of words.

"how about spin the bottle but no dares. we can only ask questions and the person has to answer truthfully." he places it on the coffee table.

you snap to him at that with something uneasy in your eyes, prompting a comment from him.

"you scared?" he tease.

"what? no," you blow.

"then what are we waiting for?" san doesn't hesitate with one of his hands already on the bottle but you have to stop him in the process to ask one more question.

"what kind of questions though?"

it takes him maybe a second for a light smirk to crawl out of him and with a shrug, telling you, "any."

you eye the bottle on the table anxiously as it circles and clinks; not afraid of the idea of the game but more so that you're playing with san and he's gonna ask the wildest shit.

fortunately, san shoots himself in the foot.

"oh fuck, it's me."

it's your turn to smirk, letting out an almost sarcastic, "yeah."

"knock yourself out. i'm an open book."

you roll your eyes because you know he is, which is why trying to come up with something that will even faze him is gonna be a challenge.

"most embarrassing thing you have done at a party?"

he scoffs it off in amusement, like he can't believe you're even asking that.

"i thought you could do worse, y/n. but sure."

he hesitates and hums for a few seconds more before answering, "got high as fuck and almost kissed wooyoung."

a dry snicker actually escapes from your lips at the confession.

"yeah i always suspected you guys had a thing for each other."

"please don't," he says in pure disgust. "i love wooyoung forreal but no amount of high can get me to kiss the man."

you laugh, now actually the one to initiate the spin because you think it can turn out fun. you think.

and thankfully, it's not you that have to answer a question, again.

"wow," san only silently curses the double misfortunate.

"how many people have you slept with?" you blurt, bold and straightforward, san even slightly taken aback.

"don't ask questions that will break your heart."

"tsk." you roll your eyes. "you could sleep with the entire population of earth and i wouldn't give a shit."

"not even the tiniest bit?" he plays on in that voice you hate because it's always when he's trying to flirt with you.

"i'd give the tiniest shit about everyone else because poor them."

"sharp," he retracts, the amusement all over his face. "but to answer your question, maybe eight? ten? to be honest, i've lost count."

"good to know," you reply nonchalantly, nodding for him to spin the bottle this time, but you know it's only so long before your luck eventually runs out, and so it does.

"ha," he says in victory, the top of the bottle pointing at you.

"i'll go easy, don't worry just yet," he teases annoyingly, you almost want to knock your foot into his.

"what did you think of me when we first met?"

you quirk your lips and pretend to think although you already know the answer.

"well, i thought you were gonna be sweet, but that was until i got to actually know you. then you were just annoying and a pervert."

he bursts out in genuine laughter and yeah, you think he's cute and endearing like this but 95% of the time, he's getting on your nerves.

the game continues on with a back and forth of innocent enough questions; just laughing and scoffing off the ridiculousness, and you're starting to think he might spare you, until the next one turns your eyes a dark one.

"what is it about yunho that made you like him so much?"

and again, you've already stated so many times why you like him. his kindness. his attitude. the way he presents himself. the way he treats you. but if you have to pick one.

"it just seems as if he accepted me for who i am. i don't know."

the way the atmosphere shifts is scary; both of the smiles on your lips wiped and replaced by unreadable expressions as san quiets without a reply, you have to be the one to speak again.

"and you... w-why are you helping me?" you ask him.

"huh?" he repeats just so there's no mistake.

"we don't even like each other and i pretty much treat you like shit but you still seem rather concerned about my wellbeing for whatever reason."

it has gotten so silent by now, you can hear san swallowing.

"you're the one who always says you don't like me. i never said i don't like you."

it's your turn to swallow, staring back at him with nervous eyes because you're not sure how to take the statement just now or what exactly he really means.

"i just thought the feeling was mutual," you mumble, shrugging lightly.

"no. i think you just didn't care enough to ask me," he says with a dry chuckle because he's right and even you know it. your mind at the time too occupied with his brother instead.

"so like, you really don't want me to leave?" you take the opportunity to tease him, a tone on you almost unrecognizable that you think even made san a bit nervous and shy.

"you could say that," he talks lowly, on the verge of stuttering. "i've known you almost my whole life."

"and if i did?" you ask, voice turning a more serious one as the words make an etch in san's heart. it hurts to even think of the possibility.

"then i would be really upset."

you watch his eyes and lips go soft, something so genuine and sincere in his response that makes you just freeze up before breaking the tension with a forced snicker.

"you still have some time to change my mind," you encourage, because you wish for there to be bigger reasons to stay so you won't regret the could of, even if san has to be that reason.

some might call it healing, some might call it a rebound if that even applies at all, but san successfully weaves himself into your life like a routine that you're no longer fazed by a morning text or even a goodnight one.

the way he'd just check up on you during work or call during the weekends to ask how you're doing and if you're up for something together.

it's a bit pathetic he's pretty much your only friend (and even that's a reach) at this point, but you genuinely enjoy his company.

he listens well, is fun to be around, and is almost like a life-long friend who's been missing your whole life.

but while those are the ups of being with san, there's also the downs--such as the long list of girls that'd constantly ring his phone or send him a text while the two of you are together, and while that isn't any of your business, that doesn't stop the few doubts that manages to plague your mind.

are you interrupting anything? does it make you a bitch for hanging with him when he has other girls lined up? does all of this even mean anything when you could very much just be one of them?

that maybe even if there's a possibility, you could never fully give and commit yourself to someone like san because it doesn't seem like he's ready to settle for anyone.

he haven't ever had a relationship that lasted more than a few months and you haven't ever known him to have less than two option on the table.

which might be why you were so much more attracted to yunho, because in comparison, yunho seemed like he would give away his heart and soul for just you.

but you know that, though. you knew that's how san is. you shouldn't have expected anything else, but you still can't help but to feel a strange, unfamiliar sense of loathing when he's distracted by another girl.

"i talked to the landlord a few days ago and she said if i wanted to see the apartment for myself, she would be more than happy to show me," you tell san over a late night eat out; the restaurant about to close in an hour but you're sure he's not listening because his head snaps to the text he got just now.

he still attempts to sound like it's the current topic holding his attention, which you have to give him credits for.

"that's good," he shortly says, fingers fast to type something on his phone before pushing it away. "so how many more days left again?"

"about two weeks, give or take," you respond, poking at your fries with the fork.

two weeks before you'll have to make the ultimate choice to leave or stay.

it's been that long, time just flying before your very eyes to the point where yunho's presence lingering around the house for the sole purpose of your sister almost no longer does an effect to you.

"wow. already?"

"yeah."

san offers to pay for the meal and drive you home instead of the usual catching a movie at his place before the actual end of the night and it's not like you're gonna fight him on it.

he's not your boyfriend and he definitely doesn't have any obligations to follow through any routines or whatever, so why are you all of a sudden feeling so tense about it?

tense and bitter about the fact that after he drives you home, there's a likely chance there's gonna be another girl at his place.

you think you're losing it.

you had let yourself indulge more and more into the possibility of staying, which was how you found the place that you could practically call ideal.

though it's only one bedroom, the modern but warm-toned style of the complex as a whole, as well as the location and pretty much everything else is convenient and accommodates all your needs.

when you had finally set a time and meeting with the landlord, you fell in love even harder in person because the second she opened the door to the place, it was like you knew this is it.

you think it can work out. you think you can see a future in this place; in this city still. and you have been much brighter and happier lately, even telling your boss the following day that there's a big chance you're gonna change your mind about the move given time is creeping up.

you had sent a text to san so excited because you want to tell him in person, every day the chance of you actually staying increasing by the second and he had told you he'd be available tomorrow night.

despite the conflicts swirling in your stomach a week ago, san had made up for it by being attentive as usual and making you feel like he really cares about you that the occasional rings and texts not from you were starting to become bearable.

after all, what does he owe you?

you're content with just having someone to talk and share your day with. you think you can live with that.

but you didn't expect nor think that all it'd take for the doubts to settle in again is to actually face the reality of your situation, making your way to san's place as promised and seeing a familiar face on the way in.

long hair and with a frame you've definitely seen before, it's hard to ignore the sensation she manages to conjure by just merely passing you.

“why don’t you ask the one person that would actually know where he is? or are you too good for that, too?”

you squint, confused, until he nods his head another direction and you follow, landing right into the view of the kitchen and to someone you know all too well just from the back.

his hands on some poor girl’s waist and lips running along with hers as her grip tightened at his disheveled hair, his body pressing her forward onto the counter, the both of them making out like there won’t be a tomorrow.

“no thanks,” you dismiss, managing to reframe from an eyeroll, pushing past hongjoong but not before you catch the smirk on him.

it wasn't the first time you saw her with san, because if it was, your body wouldn't have recognized her so easily as if she's a threat, replacing all the excitement and hope with nothing but old and plain insecurities.

then it's as if everything was a mistake.

choosing to stay because of san and with nothing but the hope that it will all work out... instead of going away on your own for some time and learning to really be independent.

your whole life, you've already been nothing but emotionally dependent on someone else, looking to them as a source of support, and you've realized that this time, it isn't any different.

you've just moved from yunho to san... and you didn't even like san for the longest time.

so how long before it will hit you that staying was a mistake; and especially that choosing to stay because of san was gonna be the biggest one of them all.

you have the tendency to catch feelings way too fast, and even if not romantic which you won't admit in this case (even if it might be), you react strongly to it and the feeling is consuming.

because how long before san will leave you the way yunho did?

everything may seem good for now but they will all meet the same ending. and to think of everything in perspective this way, you know you're not meant to stay.

your parents, yunho and your sister, san...

you don't feel ready for any of them currently, your life stuck at a point where you're not moving. and so you just turn back around and head home.

you think long and hard just to be sure this is what you want; then you think of how to tell your boss tomorrow, and about an hour later, you finally get a text from san.

san: you still coming? you said you have something to tell me

y/n: something came up sorry

y/n: i was just gonna tell you that i've made up my mind and i think i'm gonna go to japan

a/n: i am truly sorry for having been gone a while only to come back with crumbs, but i hope y'all enjoyed this mess & will anticipate it finally coming to an end the following chapter <3 lmk if i missed anyone on the taglist cuz i have not touched it in 4ever fr

taglist: @freeandrealme @shingene @cookiechristie @softie00 @crimson-mia @hexheathen @lixpixstix @atinytease @turtash @moonseonghwa @kkayfan @curryramyeon @justineasian @sannie-pudding @itsokaytobedumb00 @nerdy-kimchi @fannyxmh @acciocriativity @mel-the-mad-hatter @eastleighsblog @diorwoo @devilsmatches @kyume02 @distvrbia @wonwowzers @endeav0rsb1tch @sannwa @brown88 @sangiluvem @eburneon @hotteokhatyu @yeosangsbiceps @sankatchu @lynnsqueendom @harusoraa @ad0rechuu @interweab @revehosh @byunniebaekhyunnie @nabi-sannie @gugggu6gvai @rockstarsanie @shakalakaboomboo @yeosangsbbg @yawnzshit @avantalem @lelaleleb @mountiiny @arinyyy @svintsandghosts @yoongiworshiper @raineadlr @tunaasan @chickenscoups @nevieatiny

#y'all don't even know #the demons i fought #just to get 7k out of my ass #y/n got serious issues #but i hope y'all will still enjoy the drama #ateez angst #san x reader #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez series #yunho x reader #fic: sweetestlies

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elliesbelle · 1 year

Text

nobody compares to you

chapter 11

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, descriptions of alcohol and underage drinking, mentions of homophobic slurs, descriptions of marijuana use, men being creepy in general, drama between exes, descriptions of an anxiety attack, mentions of nausea and vomiting, minors do not interact

word count: 10.2k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-if if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

Freshman Year, Fall

You’d never been to a college party, much less a frat party. The extent of your knowledge was taught by cheesy and likely inaccurate movies where all the characters were all played by 30-year-olds pushing 40. But after the shit show that was your senior year of high school, you were looking forward to celebrating your newfound freedom through underage drinking and close-quartered gyrating.

Your roommate's name was Tara Maclay, a honey-blonde tomboy who wore baggy clothing and had a foul but amusing mouth. Your first few days involved polite conversation and awkward apologies when you’d accidentally invade the other’s personal space. However, after a late night of deep conversation, you’d discovered that you were both lesbians and felt a friendship click almost immediately.

During yet another freshman orientation, this time for your dorm held by your RAs in one of the lounges, you’d both befriended a few other girls who also resided in your building, Wilson Valley. The first you’d met was a girl named Astrid. She was tall, skinny, and had long black & blonde braids that swayed gracefully every time she moved. You couldn’t help but notice the way Tara eyed her, nudging her playfully to break her out of her slack-jawed loser lesbian stupor.

Astrid had greeted you both sweetly and introduced you to a couple more girls she’d already met: Sidney and Rebecca, who happened to live right in the same hall as you and Tara. Astrid mentioned she had a roommate as well, who couldn’t come to the meeting. You vaguely recalled she said her name was Dina.

After your RAs ended the meeting and dismissed the rest of the residents, your newfound group lingered in the lounge. You continued to chat lightly about nonsensical topics like new classes and room assignments and the campus until Rebecca mentioned a party being thrown the next night.

“My roommate Kristen mentioned that this frat is having a ‘Start of the Year’ party or something tomorrow!” She said, settling into one of the ratty couches. “Not sure if you guys would be interested in that, but I thought that would be cool to go to, even just for the experience.”

Tara grimaced before saying, “An excuse for asshole, predatory frat guys to prey on freshman girls?”

“Could maybe still be fun, though,” Astrid mused. “Nice excuse to get fucked up and all.”

“Well, I guess the free booze isn’t so bad.” Tara quickly said, changing her tune instantly. You chuckled quietly at her.

“What’s the frat?” You asked.

“Uhh,” Rebecca pondered for a moment. “I think… Sigma… something? I honestly don’t remember. I’ll ask Kristen later.”

“All of them just sound the same anyway,” Sidney shrugged, sitting criss-cross applesauce on the carpeted floor next to the couch. “I’m totally up for it if you guys go, though. Good way to be social. I don’t really have friends around here just yet.”

You turned towards her.

“We’re all your friends, so you do now.” You said, smiling at her.

Sidney returned your smile with a wide one of her own.

You’d already set out your desired outfit on your bed for the Sigma Eta party when you sat by your desk, applying your makeup. Behind you, Tara was clumsily rummaging through her clothes, cursing under her breath as she kept changing her mind about her party attire.

“What the fuck do you even wear to frat parties, dude?” She said, throwing yet another unfolded, creased shirt into her dresser.

“Honestly, I don’t really know. I’ve mostly gone to high school theatre cast parties, and I don’t think those really count as real parties.” You replied, lightly brushing a small spoolie through one of your eyebrows.

“Am I supposed to look fucking nice, or—?”

“Just be yourself!” You jokingly said.

Through your makeup mirror, you saw Tara give you an annoyed grimace in the reflection. You laughed.

“That’s stupid ass advice.” She groaned in frustration.

“Sorry!” You apologized in jest. “I mean, you’re not really there to attract guys. Don’t have to be all dressed up and all if you don’t want to be.”

“You’re getting all dressed the fuck up.” Tara pointed out, motioning towards your outfit on the bed.

“I just like looking nice,” You shrugged. “Just for myself, not really for anyone else. Like I said, you don’t have to get all dressed up if you don’t want to. Unless there’s someone you’re trying to impress.”

“I mean, I didn’t say that…” She grumbled, almost indiscernible underneath her breath.

“Oh?” You said, momentarily pausing your makeup routine to turn towards her with an eyebrow raised. “Why? Is there a certain someone you wanna look good for?” You inquired.

Tara refused to meet your inquisitive eyes as she fidgeted with another shirt’s buttons between her hands.

“I knew it!” You laughed, pointing the makeup brush you held in your hand towards her. “You like Astrid!”

“No, I fucking do not!” Tara responded defensively.

“You have a crush on Astrid,” You said in a sing-song voice. “You have a crush on Astrid!”

“Shut the fuck up, dude!”

“You think she’s pretty, you want her to have your babies!” You continued to sing, cackling as you turned back to your desk to resume your eye makeup.

“I will physically fight you, you dick!” Tara warned noncommittally.

“Save all those kinky threats for your new girlfriend.” You chuckled as you effortlessly blended two shades of eyeshadow with one another.

“Ugh,” She groaned as she flopped down on her bed. “She’s so fucking straight though. Like, painfully fucking straight. Like, not just heterosexual. Barbie heterosexual.”

“First of all,” You said as you set down the makeup brush in your hand to grab your setting spray. “Barbie is so gay, so that point is useless.”

“Barbie is not fucking gay, man.” Tara argued.

“Barbie is a lesbian with comphet and Ken is her lavender marriage boyfriend,” You disagree, fanning your freshly sprayed face. “Secondly, Astrid is one hundred percent a dyke too.”

“Did you fucking see her, dude?”

“Yes, I did. I have eyes, Tara.”

“Yes, I do too.”

“But not a good enough gaydar though, it looks like.”

“What the fuck!”

“Trust me, Tara,” You said, turning towards her once more to look her straight in the eyes. “There is not a single straight bone in that girl’s body, I guarantee it. If you weren’t so busy checking her out before, you would have noticed it too. Might have even noticed that she was also checking you out.”

“Wait. Hold the fuck up, seriously?” Tara said, perking up for a second before suddenly looking nervous.

“Dude, this is no time to be a fucking pussy! She’s really pretty and seems to like you back. Just get to know her tonight!”

“You think she’s pretty?” She asked.

“I mean, yeah, of course. She is gorgeous.” You admit. “But you’re okay, I’m not competition. She’s not my type, trust me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, kind of discovered after my last relationship that I’m more into like, masc and butch lesbians.”

“Oh?” Tara said intriguingly, abandoning her search for appropriate clothing to take a seat on her bed. “How do you mean exactly?”

“Well,” You said, twirling your eyeliner pen in between your fingers as you turned in your chair to face her again. “My ex-girlfriend was a little bit more feminine than masculine. And I mean, I guess I was attracted to her in different kinds of ways, but I think that I was drawn more to her personality than her looks.”

You sighed before continuing.

“Which, obviously, I think is very important, but I also believe that you’ve gotta be physically attracted to who you’re with too, you know? Not in a shallow way or anything. But I don’t think I really ever felt that click with her, even at the start. It was just another unrealistic expectation I had of her that ultimately cemented the end of our relationship.”

Tara hummed in understanding.

“So why masculine lesbians, then? I’m just curious as someone who presents more as masculine but who tends to like more feminine girls.” She asked.

You pondered her question for a few moments, considering your response.

“There’s just… I don’t know, there’s just something so bold and alluring about a woman who completely rejects femininity in every possible way. We’re all expected to fill that role of being gentle and ladylike, and I think it’s just so attractive when a girl openly says ‘fuck you’ to that and presents the way she actually wants to, not the way the rest of the world expects of her. I love it when women are exclusively masculine, almost like they’re showing men how it’s supposed to be done. I think it’s just so hot and charming and sexy.”

“Ooh, so you think I’m sexy and shit?” Tara teases, wiggling her eyebrows at you as you conclude your mini-speech.

“No, you’re way too much of a loser lesbian who can’t even tell the difference between a straight girl and a femme lesbian.”

“Hey, not too fucking much now!” Tara said indignantly.

You laughed loudly before going back to applying your winged eyeliner.

A few moments later, you heard a knock followed by Astrid, Rebecca, and her roommate Kristen after you shouted that your door was unlocked. Kristen, a short and perky girl with her dirty blonde hair up in two long pigtails, introduced herself and said that her friend Mina was also tagging along later on, in addition to two other people she didn’t mention.

It was incredibly amusing to you how red and flustered Tara became as a result of Astrid’s sudden appearance. You even felt a little bit giddy yourself when Astrid graciously offered to help pick out an outfit for Tara to wear for tonight’s party.

It wasn’t long after the three girls arrived that Sidney joined the rest of your group, having done herself up a bit as well in a short, pink dress and pieces of curly hair styled to fall from her space buns. You all enthusiastically complimented her and hyped her up, to which she blushed.

You were the last one to finish getting ready, the rest of your new friends every now and again watching you finish your makeup routine as they all chatted animatedly. They all gawked in awe at the way you’d artistically dolled up your face, Kristen commenting that Michaelangelo couldn’t have painted colours the way you did your eyeshadow (to which you humourously and geekily remark that he was more of a sculptor than a painter). The girls all loudly squealed at how expertly you applied your fake eyelashes within mere seconds, you chuckling to yourself at how easily amused they seemed to be.

As all the girls began to pre-game with a bottle of Bacardi spiced rum Kristen had brought, you threw on the rest of your outfit: a long-sleeved, lacy and see-through white top with a black bra underneath, a black mini-skirt with side pockets, and your favourite knee-high black boots. You joined in the drinking festivities before Astrid checked the time and her messages then suggested you all head out to meet Kristen’s friend Mina and head towards the Sigma Eta party.

You all squeezed into a rickety, old elevator located in the middle of the hallway and headed down to the first floor of your building. As the elevator doors opened up to the lobby, Kristen broke off from the rest of the group when she spotted another girl waiting with two guys by the front doors. Kristen squealed happily and gave her a tight hug before introducing her friend to the rest of you.

Mina was a girl with short kinky blonde hair that reached just above her shoulders. She wore a white halter top with dark blue jeans accompanied by black pumps. To her left was a short, brown-haired guy with a plain, blue button-down and a pair of salmon-coloured shorts; to her right was a tall, dark-haired boy wearing an orange Hawaiian shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans.

“Good evening, fellow freshman cuties,” Mina said before gesturing to her hand to her own company, introducing them respectively. “This is Fred, and this is Jesse.”

The two boys smiled and nodded in greeting.

“Mina’s brother actually used to be in the fraternity that’s throwing the party we’re going to tonight before he graduated last year.” Kristen explained to your group.

“Yeah, Fred here is a friend of my brother’s. He was the one who told me about the party.” Mina added.

“Oh, that was really nice of you.” Astrid said, giving Fred a polite smile. He smiled back, not before eyeing her keenly up and down.

“Thought I’d introduce Mina to college life the proper way.” Fred replied cockily, patting Mina hard on the back in a brotherly fashion. Mina rolled her eyes.

“Let’s head out, chicas!” Kristen announced, beckoning your large group towards and out the front doors.

The trip to the Sigma Eta frat house wasn’t very long, but it felt like it to you at the beginning. Tara had broken off from your side when she was able to garner enough courage and nervously converse with Astrid, who was chatting back animatedly while ignoring Fred’s futile attempts to flirt with her. Kristen and Mina were enthusiastically catching up with each other, and Rebecca, who noticed Sidney’s shy and reserved demeanour, began kindly engaging her in a conversation to help her open up and get to know her. This left you to yourself for a while.

You were excited to be branching out socially and making friends, but it was difficult not to feel like you were out of your league in this rather abundant group of acquaintances. Being accustomed to smaller circles of friends and having gone through a recent ordeal with former friends, you weren’t quite sure how to politely insert yourself without seeming like a burden or nuisance.

The other guy Mina had brought along, Jesse, seemed to notice your silent predicament. He was a tall, muscular Asian man who had jet-black hair and kind eyes. You and your friends were approaching a nearby bus stop when he first spoke to you.

“So, this is your first real party, huh?”

You almost jumped, surprised that someone was speaking to you.

“Oh! Umm, yeah,” You responded sheepishly. “Is it really that obvious?”

“A little, but it’s alright,” He chuckled. “I’m Jesse, by the way. What was your name again?”

You smiled meekly as you introduced yourself.

“I’ll be sure to remember that.” He said with a friendly, assuring grin.

You weren’t sure what it was about this guy Jesse, what it was about him that made you like him instinctively. Men generally made you feel uncomfortable, and you almost never had any guy friends. But something in your gut was telling you that he was genuine, someone you could trust.

“So do you go to these kinds of frat parties a lot?” You asked in an attempt to be social.

“Sometimes,” Jesse replied. “Don’t really like this specific frat we’re going to, but I’m supposed to be helping this friend of mine link up with some guy who’ll be there. Do you smoke pot?”

“Why do you ask? Are you a cop?” You joked.

“Oh, absolutely. That is precisely why I am tagging along with a bunch of underage freshmen to a booze-filled shitty, frat party as someone who is also currently underage.” He chuckled.

You smiled at him.

“Yeah, I smoke,” You eventually replied. “I don’t really have a solid plug out here just yet though.”

“Well, my friend is a dealer and the guy we’re meeting up with tonight actually grows nearby, so we’re gonna see if my friend can work with him. She needs to procure some more fresh ‘merchandise’ or whatever.” He said, making air quotes upon saying the word ‘merchandise.’ “If you’re looking for a regular plug, I can introduce you to her later.”

“That’d be perfect, honestly,” You replied. “Don’t know how I’ll be able to get through freshman year of college without the influence of drugs.”

“Trust me, I get it,” Jesse said. “I had to make do with second-rate dealers as a freshman last year ‘cause my old dealer back home is obviously far away. Everyone around here either charges way too much or their shit is completely dry and weak.”

“Damn,” You replied. “But you think your friend’s got better connections?”

“Well, we’re going to see. But she’s real great about finding good strains and shit. Hopefully, things work out tonight.”

“I hope so too. I don’t wanna try and find another dealer out here, and then it turns out they’re creepy or something. And I trust you and your faith in your friend.”

“Yeah?” Jesse said curiously. “That’s very nice of you.”

You shrugged and gave him a warm smile.

The rest of the trip to the Sigma Eta house was much more enjoyable now that you seemed to find a friend in Jesse. You clicked instantly with him: discussing where you were both from, what your majors were, what there was to do around and outside of the campus. He even gave you tips on how to navigate college as a freshman, having gone through it himself already the previous year. It comforted you that this person you’d just met already seemed adamant about looking out for you in a friendly, platonic manner.

As your group walked down the sidewalk that led to multiple houses where other college students resided, you spotted bright, strobing lights coming from a house towards the end of the street. The sounds of loud party music and boisterous chatter grew louder the further down you ventured. You finally came up to a house where several cars were haphazardly and crookedly parked out front and an assortment of other college kids loitered around the porch, most holding red solo cups filled to the brim.

Before you all stepped foot onto the front porch of the house, Astrid suddenly stopped and turned around to face the whole group.

“Hey, can we take a quick pic of all of us attending our first-ever college party? I wanna capture the memory of getting fucked up with my new dorm besties!” She gushed excitedly.

“You know, this actually isn’t my first college party.” Kristen chuckled, but Mina nudged her in the ribs.

“You know what she means, you killjoy. Come on, let’s all take a selfie!”

All the girls gathered together and began to link arms or embrace each other around the waist or drape their arms over each other’s shoulders. You turned towards Jesse, who was texting rapidly on his phone.

“So, selfie time?” You asked him.

“Nah, you guys go ahead. I think I’m gonna go find my friend inside ‘cause I’m pretty sure she’s here already. Plus I don’t wanna get in the way of you and your friends.”

“You’re my friend too,” You asserted boldly. “Come here and get in the picture with us, new friend.”

Jesse flashed you a warm smile and relented without any further argument.

Astrid held up her phone at a 45-degree angle towards the starry, night sky, angling it so she could get the whole group in the frame (except for Fred, whom she made very little effort to include in the picture, him standing at the edge of the group and desperately trying to have his face captured as well). You and Jesse stood right next to each other, and you allowed yourself to put a hand behind his back in an almost half-hug. You let out a partly genuine smile as Astrid said “Cheese!” and snapped a few photos of your group. After she sent the pictures to you and the rest of the girls in a mass group text (which she then promptly named “Wilson Crew ❤️‍🔥” after the dorm you were all living in), you and your new friends finally ventured into the Sigma Eta frat house.

The deafening noise of terrible EDM and the smell of sweat that filled the thick air was almost enough to make you regret coming out. But the rest of your group tittered in anticipation, so you feigned excitement as you all ventured further into the house.

You entered the dining room where a long, wooden table had been turned into a small, makeshift beer-pong court. There were several people gathered around it, whether as spectators or players. You watched as a girl in a ponytail whooped after she effortlessly bounced a ping-pong ball onto the table and into a red solo cup on her opponent’s side. Several bystanders cheered in response as a frat guy on the other side of the table cursed in jest and promptly chugged from the cup.

“Dina!” Astrid mused excitedly, approaching the girl. She gave her a tight hug, which the girl named Dina affectionately returned.

Dina was an incredibly pretty girl with tan skin and black, wavy hair. Beneath thick, dark eyebrows were a pair of beautiful brown eyes that looked extremely warm and welcoming. Being Astrid’s roommate, it’d have been an obvious guess that she was a freshman too like the rest of you. But she exuded this air of boldness and spunk that made it seem like she was a vetted college student. You noticed that several onlookers, mostly men, had been eyeing her shiftily and curiously.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming!” Astrid scolded her playfully.

“Well, I honestly wasn’t, but a friend of mine had been trying to persuade me to come and—” Dina began before breaking off suddenly.

Her eyes had wandered towards your group of friends and fell on Jesse who was standing right next to you. The wide smile on her face faltered as her animated expression turned into one of shocked recognition. You turned towards Jesse who had suddenly gone rigid and stone-faced. You looked back at the girl Dina who blinked back to reality and began to stutter.

“I-I’m g-gonna catch up with you later, okay?” She said to Astrid before making her way towards the back of the house.

“Ah, shit,” You heard Jesse mutter under his breath. “Goddamn it.”

“You know her?” You questioned him.

“That… was my ex-girlfriend Dina. Childhood and high school sweetheart.” He explained.

“Oh, shit.” You uttered.

“Hey, I’m… I’m gonna be right back, okay?” He said to you before quickly heading towards the direction that Dina had gone in.

You watched as he left you behind with your friends who began to gossip amongst themselves curiously about the exchange that had just occurred.

You’d been standing in the kitchen by yourself for the past five minutes, attempting to finish a drink in your hand that you’d reluctantly poured from an orange cooler on the counter. After they’d downed a couple of shots, the rest of the girls had tried to convince you to come to the basement where the dancing was primarily taking place. You declined and said that you needed a minute or two, promising you’d find them later. Though it was still relatively early in the evening, you were already feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated. You’d been faking plenty of smiles and forcing tight-lipped laughter all night; it was getting more tiring to feign excitement, especially now that the new friend you’d made tonight had not made a reappearance since quickly running after his ex-girlfriend.

Sighing, you refilled your red solo cup with the same unknown alcoholic contents from the cooler. You weren’t particularly enjoying the drink, completely confused as to what it was in the first place, but it was at least giving you something to do. As you continued to sip from your cup, you decided to venture towards the backyard where you figured Jesse had walked off.

Squinting past the darkness illuminated by the moonlight and the strobing lights peeking through the house’s windows, you scanned the numerous figures occupying the grassy lawn. You eventually spotted Jesse’s tall, dark silhouette after a minute or two, seeing that he was in a seemingly heated discussion with the pretty girl Dina. Deciding that this was a lover’s quarrel that you probably shouldn’t get in between, you find your tired, aching feet take you back inside the house.

You felt the temperature change back from brisk chilliness to throbbing heat from the pheromones in the musky air. Unsure of where to go, you walked back to the kitchen where you found a couple pressed up against each other in the spot you previously occupied. You grimaced at their pre-coital positioning and how they seemed to be swallowing each other’s faces before retreating from the room. Having no interest in watching the new round of beer-pong that several people had started again in the dining room, you settled for finding sanctuary elsewhere.

Finding an empty spot on a wall in the living room, you leaned up against it and took a generous sip from your cup. Though you didn’t have high expectations beforehand, the night was still going quite poorly. You cursed yourself silently for not having a sufficient social battery to socialize with your friends at the party nor enough courage to endure your overwhelming surroundings. You were contemplating whether you should rejoin the group after all in their close-quartered gyrating in the basement when you suddenly felt an invisible pull from across the room that called to you and compelled your head to instinctively turn in its direction.

Your eyes simultaneously met a pair of ocean green ones. The sounds of terrible music and overlapping chitchat immediately vanished when you saw her. You watched as her eyes scanned your face just as you scanned hers. The handsome stranger began to look you up and down before the left corner of her lips turned up in a crooked smile. Your cheeks burned in bashfulness and you tore your eyes away from her to stare at the ground and take another sip from your drink.

You felt your throat close up, your breathing hitch, and your entire body going up in flames. It felt as if someone had shot you through the chest with an arrow, aiming for and perfectly hitting where your heart was located. You felt utterly bare and naked in front of all these strangers, suddenly prey to a strange emotion that felt completely foreign to you. It was intoxicating, like you were completely wonderstruck within seconds of being in this stranger’s presence.

When you eventually felt her eyes wander elsewhere, you dared glance at her once more. She was incredibly handsome: her auburn hair partly tied up in a bun, cheeks adorned with freckles as if an angel had hand-painted them itself, broad shoulders that suggested a muscular frame underneath an old, brown motorcycle jacket she was wearing. She was sitting on this ratty old couch, manspreading in the middle as she noncommittally nodded at the people standing beside her. Her slender, long fingers were expertly wrapping a few rolling papers on the table in front of her. As she brought a joint up to her lips to lick it closed, her eyes flicked up once again to look at you. Embarrassed that you were caught shamelessly staring, you quickly focused your gaze in a different direction. From the corner of your eyes, you could see her chuckling.

The girl muttered something to her nearby companions before making her way across the room to you. Your drumming heartbeat echoed each of her steps, getting louder and louder in your chest the closer she got. You didn’t allow yourself to look her way again until she was right in front of you.

“Hey.” She said, voice rough and husky.

“Hi.” You responded, trying not to sound too flustered over this extremely attractive stranger approaching you to engage in conversation.

“You all alone tonight?” She asked.

“Not exactly,” You responded truthfully. “My friends are around here somewhere.”

“Oh?” She said, cocking her head slightly to the side as she crossed her arms.

“Yeah. I think downstairs, humping and gyrating with everyone else.” You joked.

She chuckled.

“Not your type of thing?”

“Not really,” You said. “I wasn’t in the mood tonight to get felt up by some horny frat guy trying to shove his limp-dick boner up against my ass.”

The girl let out a genuine laugh accompanied by a toothy grin.

“You’re funny.” She commented. You returned her smile with one of your own.

“Wanna come sit on the couch?” She asked. “You honestly look like you’re about to collapse at any second.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t really the best idea to wear a really nice pair of high heels to some crappy fraternity party.”

“Well, hey, they look good on you, so not a total loss.”

“Yeah?” You questioned, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” She smirked. “Anyway, come sit with me on this ugly ass couch. I promise I won’t try to shove my dick up your ass or anything.”

“Aww, you’re not? I was going to say yes, but if you’re not gonna shove your dick up my ass...” You teased boldly.

Even under the dim lights of the party, you thought you saw traces of pink appear underneath her freckles as she smiled. You felt your own cheeks burning.

“Come on, pretty girl.” She chuckled, leading you towards the sofa.

She sat back down in the middle but didn’t manspread this time to make room for you to sit comfortably next to her. Her body faced towards your direction, indicating to her companions that she was disinterested in any further conversation with them. Both your hands gripped onto your red solo cup tightly like it was your life-saving anchor. Your body tensed up from being so close to this handsome stranger whose name you didn’t even know yet.

Almost as if she read your mind, she introduced herself.

“I’m Ellie.”

You smiled nervously as you gave her your name.

“So,” She began. “You a freshman too, huh?”

“Yeah,” You hummed. “First ever college party.”

“Oh?” She said, reaching for one of her joints on the table.

“Mhmm,” You respond. “Not really as exciting as people have been making it out to be.”

“What, you’re not impressed by the repulsive smell of jungle juice and shitty trap music and the giant, sweaty orgy going on in the basement?”

“Eww,” You giggled, scrunching up your nose in disgust. “No, I wouldn’t really say that I’m impressed, exactly.”

Ellie chuckled before offering you the joint she was holding.

“You smoke?”

“Yeah, I do. But are you sure? I don’t wanna waste your weed.”

“I never mind smoking out pretty girls for free every now and again.” Ellie shrugged.

You ignored the way your heart fluttered as you placed your cup down and took the joint from her. You ignored the sudden, electric spark when you felt her skin brush against yours. You ignored how her own breathing seemed to hitch at that same moment before she pulled away from you to grab her lighter from a front pocket of her motorcycle jacket.

You placed the joint in between your lips, trying not to think about the fact that Ellie’d just sealed it a minute or two ago with her tongue. Ellie cupped her left hand around the tip while her right hand flicked on the lighter. Your eyes wandered from the budding flame to her eyes, which were already watching you. Her stare caught you off-guard that you almost forgot to inhale. You leaned away from her, both to blow the smoke in a different direction and to nervously catch your breath from how intimately close she was to you.

“So?” She inquired, reclining back and throwing her arm behind you on the back of the couch.

“Mm?” You hummed in question as you took another puff of the joint.

“How do you like the j?”

“Hmm,” You say after releasing another breath of smoke. “It’s… fine.”

“Just fine?” She asked, looking playfully offended.

“What!” You said, giggling and handing her back the joint. “It’s just a regular, old j! What else would you like me to say?”

“What, do you smoke some fancy ass weed with gold and diamonds and shit where you’re from?” Ellie chuckled.

“Sorry! I guess I’m just used to something very particular.”

“Oh, yeah?” She asked, cocking up an eyebrow, the one that you’d noticed had a slit right through it. “What do you mean by that exactly?”

“I usually lace my own js with lavender buds,” You explained. “Makes it taste better, in my opinion, and it helps me relax.”

“Really? Lavender, huh? I’ve never heard of someone doing that before.”

“A little trick I learned from an ex-girlfriend.” You clarified, pretending that you didn’t throw in that last word on purpose.

“That so?” She replied. You could have sworn that she had moved slightly closer the moment you mentioned having an ex-girlfriend.

“Mhmm. Lavender’s my favourite, but I’ve tried lacing them with other herbs and plants too.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I’ve done rose petals and passionflowers before. Gives them a much better flavour. Sage is good too if you wanna destress and all. And apparently, hibiscus and jasmine are, well…” Your sentence is cut short by a slightly drunken giggle emerging from your lips.

“Are what?” Ellie prompted you.

“Umm, they’re good too.”

“Good for what, exactly?”

You handed the joint back to her before responding.

“I heard that they’re supposedly good aphrodisiacs.” You nearly whispered.

Ellie smiled slyly, taking the joint back without breaking eye contact.

“Interesting” is all she says before taking a huge puff.

Whether it was the mysterious alcohol finally kicking in or the sudden presence of marijuana in your system, you felt a surge of sudden confidence flood your senses. You wanted to impress this strange girl, you wanted her to like you. And yet somehow, it feels almost as if you’d already met before.

“By the way,” Ellie began. “I really love your eye makeup. You did it yourself?”

“Thanks,” You smiled. “Yeah, I did.”

“That’s seriously fucking impressive. I’ve never been into makeup and girly shit like that, but I know it must take a fuck ton of talent to do it.”

“Nah,” You waved off before picking up your red solo cup from the table and drinking from it. “It’s really not that hard to learn. I taught myself how to do it for the most part.”

“That’s even more fucking impressive.” She stated simply. You gave her a sheepish smile before uttering another quiet thanks.

Before either of you could speak again, the guy leaning against the arm of the couch next to Ellie turned towards her.

“Yo, Williams, Chang here yet?” He asked.

“Really don’t know, man. He said he would be.”

“Damn. Call him or something.”

“Call him yourself. I’m not his mother.”

The guy tsked in irritation before returning to a conversation with his companions.

“Nice friends you got there.” You said out loud without thinking.

“We just got a mutual friend in common, that’s all,” Ellie replied, shrugging and taking another puff. “My best friend knows like, half the people who go to this school.”

You nodded in acknowledgement as she continued.

“Most people are usually disappointed that I’m not as nice as him.”

“You’re not?”

“Nah, apparently I’m ‘antagonistic’ and ‘mean’ and just really fucking rude.” She chuckled.

“Doesn’t seem like that to me.” You commented.

“Well, we just met,” She smirked. “Just wait a little while.”

“What, are you planning on being really mean to me in the future, Ellie?” You quipped.

She shrugged and you chuckled.

Both immensely absorbed in your engaging and private conversation, you weren’t quite sure exactly how long you and Ellie were sitting in that dirty living room on that ratty, old couch. You talked about the classes and professors you had in common, bonded over your shared love of music and the instruments you both played, laughed at all of the dumb and silly jokes she made.

At one point in the night, Tara emerged from the basement, all buzzed and sweaty. She scanned the living room, having been worried that she nor none of the rest of your friends had seen you since you’d all first arrived at the house. Upon spotting you sitting so intimately to Ellie, her whispering something in your ear and you boisterously laughing, Tara smiled and retreated back to the basement.

Ellie was beginning to tell you about her hometown when your conversation was suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Hey, yo, El!” You heard Jesse say from behind you.

You turned around to see a jovial expression on his face that didn’t quite meet his serious eyes. He was smiling in greeting, but it seemed like whatever occurred in the private conversation he had with the girl Dina rattled him in some way.

“Yo, Jess,” Ellie said, waving him over. “Been wondering where the fuck your ass has been this whole time, man.”

“Ahh, well, I kind of… got detained by D…” He admitted as he approached the couch before spotting you sitting next to Ellie. “Oh, shit! You guys know each other?”

“What, you don’t know that we’re lifelong best friends?” Ellie said, winking at you. You turned away as you bit your lip, attempting to hide the smile on your face and the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Now, hang on, I thought we were lifelong best friends?” Jesse gasped playfully, putting one hand on his hip and gesturing between you and him mockingly.

“Sorry dude, I claimed her already.” Ellie said, smirking.

You tried to ignore Jesse’s mumble of “greedy whore” towards Ellie in between loud, fake coughs.

“Anyway, you saw D? Are you okay?” Ellie said, her tone more serious now.

“I mean, I guess,” Jesse sighed. “Thought she wasn’t tagging along tonight, but I guess she did.”

“Sorry, man, I really thought you knew.”

“It’s cool. I was gonna end up seeing her at some point. Might wanna check up on her, though.”

“She okay?”

“I think so, but you know how she can be.”

“Where’d she run off to know?”

“I think she said that she was gonna go hang out with her roommate or something for the rest of the night.”

“I’ll text her, see where she is.”

“Oh, umm,” You said, awkwardly speaking up. “My friend Astrid is her roommate, so I think your friend Dina went downstairs to the basement.”

Both Ellie and Jesse looked slightly taken aback at your short degree of separation.

“Sorry,” You apologized as you looked down at your hands in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to insert myself.”

“Hey,” Ellie assured, nudging your shoulder with hers. “Didn’t I just say that we’re lifelong best friends?”

You looked up at her and smiled with appreciation at her thoughtfulness.

Ellie, realizing they’d been leaving you out of their conversation, quickly filled in the blanks.

“Our other lifelong best friend Dina got dumped by this asshole joker right here a little while back. It was a bit of a messy break-up.”

“I haven’t always been the smooth and suave man that you see before you today.” Jesse quipped.

“Never have been, dumbass.” Ellie added. Jesse gave her a scowl, which she mockingly returned.

“Anyway,” She continued. “Now I’ve been stuck being the middle man for the past year or so ‘cause these two clowns don’t know how to talk about their motherfucking feelings.”

You chuckled at Ellie’s choice of words.

“I’m sure she’s okay if she’s with your friend, though. This Astrid girl nice?” Ellie inquired.

“Oh, she’s the absolute sweetest.” You affirmed.

“Well, I trust your judgment. I’ll give her some time and check up on her after.” Ellie concluded, giving you a half-smile.

It was so curious how these people you’d known only for a few hours seemed to somehow trust you so intimately and almost blindly. Besides your cousin Rafael who’s known you since birth, you’d never clicked so well with anyone else in your life. You felt a quiet warmth in your chest, feeling as if you had been soulmates with these people in a past life.

“Might as well,” Jesse said, looking down at his buzzing phone. “Eugene’s contact said he’s here. He’s out back if you still wanna talk to him.”

You suddenly felt naive, not realizing sooner that Ellie was the dealer friend Jesse had been talking to you about earlier in the evening. Her previous rolling of papers and multiple joints should have been a dead giveaway, but you were far too mesmerized by Ellie and her charm and her ocean green eyes to give much notice to your current surroundings.

“Ah, shit, I totally forgot,” Ellie cursed.

She looked at you.

“Umm, do you wanna come with? It’ll probably be boring as shit, but—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” You said, waving her off. “It sounds pretty important. Jesse was telling me earlier that you needed to meet up with him.”

Ellie turned towards him, an annoyed look on her face.

“Now, why are you going around telling my business to everyone?” She asked him.

“It’s fun.” Jesse joked. Ellie rolled her eyes.

“If, uh, you wanna stick around, this probably won’t take long. I’ll see you after?” She said guiltily. You gave her a soft smile.

“Ellie, please go ahead. I’m a big girl; I can be left alone for two seconds.”

She chuckled at your words as she stood up from her seat next to you, not before brushing her hand and her knee against yours. You wondered silently if she did so by accident.

“See you in a bit, pretty girl.” Ellie said, winking at you.

You watched as she and Jesse walked off towards the backyard of the house. Once they were out of sight, you sighed quietly.

You realized that you were all alone tonight once again, this time through no fault of your own. Not knowing what else to do, you leaned back into the sagging sofa and pulled out your phone from a pocket of your skirt. As you waited for your companions to return, you scrolled mindlessly through different social media outlets for a while until your entertainment was exhausted and eventually settled on Instagram. After a couple of minutes of looking through your friends’ stories and posts, sending likes and comments every now and again, you see something that suddenly makes your stomach drop.

Still not fully over the results of the disastrous break-up with your high school ex-girlfriend, you hadn’t unfollowed or blocked her on social media just yet. You realized in the moment what a grave mistake that was when you came across a post with several photos of her and all your former friends at some party with a couple of unknown people included. Hot tears formed in your eyes when, while swiping through the many images, you encountered one picture with your ex-girlfriend’s arms wrapped around a strange girl you didn’t recognize. Their physical intimacy and stances suggested something more than just friendship.

You suddenly felt the urge to throw up and you immediately rose from your seat in search of a nearby bathroom. Eventually, you came across a small one towards the front of the house and wrenched it open, feeling lucky that it was presently unoccupied. Leaning over the grimy sink, the feeling of nausea subdued from what you figured was a result of separating yourself from the overstimulation of the party. Still, your hands and neck felt clammy. You felt as if you couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard you inhaled and exhaled.

You raised your head up to look at yourself in the murky mirror. Thick tears threatened to fall from the corners of your eyes. Pieces of hair stuck to your forehead with nervous sweat. Lips were trembling and shakingly releasing laboured breaths.

Leaving your past behind was not as simple as you believed it could be. The past several months had been a personal hell for you, having been abandoned to be lonely and companionless by people you loved. After a messy break-up with someone who suddenly broke your heart, a result of two young, dumb kids attempting to be much more mature than they actually were, your entire friend group ended up choosing her in the aftermath. It left you completely grief-stricken and betrayed, not expecting the people you believed cared for you to cast you aside so quickly and easily.

You’d spent the entire summer after graduating high school healing and recovering from such a loss, and you’d genuinely believed that you came to your new school fully mended. But as you stood in front of a fogged-up mirror in a dingy frat house bathroom, it seemed as if you hadn’t fully overcome your emotional wounds like you thought.

You were dabbing the soggy sweat off your moist forehead when someone suddenly knocked on the bathroom door, causing you to jump.

“Oh, umm, someone’s in here!” You quickly exclaimed. The sound of the same voice you’d been listening to all evening calling out your name from behind the door had you grip the edges of the sink and freeze in place.

“Y-yeah?” You asked falteringly.

“Hey, uhh, i-it’s Ellie.”

“Oh!” You said in surprise. “Hi! Umm, I-I’ll be out in a minute!”

“Hey, uhh, are you okay?” Ellie said after a beat or two.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine!” You cried out unconvincingly.

“Can… can I come in?” She asked hesitantly.

“Oh! Umm—”

“It’s okay if you don’t want me to! If you need space—”

“No, no!” You interrupted.

You took a deep breath, threw out the damp tissue you still held in your hand, and carefully opened the door to reveal Ellie with a concerned look on her face.

“It’s a bit of a tight fit, but, uhh…” You said, stepping aside to let her in.

You backed up to make space for her and sat on the edge of the shabby-looking tub as Ellie closed the bathroom door behind her before leaning her back against it.

“How’d you know where to find me?” You inquired.

“Someone saw you come in here.” She explained.

“Oh” was all you could say in return.

There were several moments of complete silence, neither of you knowing how to start or what to say. It was you who eventually broke it out of nervousness.

“So, umm, how did it go with that guy you were talking to?” You asked awkwardly.

“Oh, uhh, good. At least, I think so. Gave me a pretty good deal and all.” Ellie replied.

You nodded in response.

“So, hey, uhh, if you need a new plug out here…” She pointed a pair of finger guns at you, to which you half-heartedly chuckled.

“Sorry,” She apologized. “I’m not really as smooth as I would like to think.”

“Don’t worry, I still think you’re plenty charming. Dorky, but charming.” You gave her a soft, affectionate smile that she returned as you saw her turn slightly pink underneath her numerous freckles.

“So, uhh, are you okay? I don’t mean to pry or anything, and you don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to—” She began to ramble.

“Ellie,” You said, chuckling. “It’s alright. I don’t mind, and you’re not prying.”

She let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Just a bunch of bullshit in regards to my ex,” You explained. “Thought I was past it all, but…”

Ellie nodded in understanding.

“Still not over her?”

“Oh, god, no, no, I’m completely over her,” You clarified quickly. “But dealing with the outcome of it all… isn’t necessarily fun.”

“Yeah,” Ellie agreed. “I completely get it.”

You looked up at her with an expression of gratitude.

“Man, this lesbian shit is real fucking messy and complicated, huh?” She quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood. You couldn’t help but giggle at her joke.

“How’d you know that I wasn’t okay?” You asked her after a beat or two.

“The people I was with earlier said that the pretty girl I was talking to suddenly looked stressed and ran to the bathroom.” Ellie explained, shrugging. You attempted to hide your bashful smile as you felt your cheeks go hot again.

“Wanna get out of this disgusting bathroom and go smoke some more?” She asked.

You and Ellie were passing another joint back and forth again several feet away from the Sigma Eta frat house. You’d both taken shelter underneath a nearby tree, listening to the muffled bass drops of yet another bad EDM song currently playing from the frat house. The weed was calming your nerves down slightly, but you had a gut feeling that it was Ellie’s presence that was the actual cause of your peace of mind.

“Damn, I really wanna try your lavender-laced trick now.” Ellie said after taking a hit of the joint.

“I mean, it’s not really my trick. It was my ex’s idea.” You chuckled dryly as you watched her blow the smoke up towards the night sky.

“Oh, fuck that shit. I don’t know her and I know you, so it’s your recipe.” She disagreed. You laughed graciously at her argument.

“Can I ask what happened?” Ellie began, handing the joint to you. “Like, did the bitch suddenly call or text you, or…”

“Nah,” You said after a puff. “She posted something on Instagram and, I don’t know, I guess seeing evidence of her existence triggered something in me.”

“Wait, you don’t have her blocked?”

“No…” You admitted sheepishly. “I still follow her and everything…”

“What!!” Ellie exclaimed. “Why?!”

“I don’t know!” You laughed at her immediate indignation. “I just could never get myself to actually do it!”

“Alright, no more free weed for you!” Ellie proclaimed, swiftly snatching the joint out of your fingertips.

“Noooo!” You whined.

“You’re on a time-out for still keeping your stupid ex-girlfriend in your life in some kind of way!”

“Look, I like to lurk sometimes! I can’t do that if I have her blocked!” You protested, attempting to take the joint back from her.

“Oh, now you’re definitely not getting any more free weed!” Ellie said, holding the joint up and away from your reach.

“How else am I supposed to be a miserable, pathetic lesbian who needs to be sad and tragic if you don’t let me!!” You said, giving up and crossing your arms over your chest in a huff.

“Pretty girls like you should be spending their freshman year in college in their drunken whore eras, not in an ‘I’m gonna sulk over my worthless ex the whole time’ era!”

“Ugh. Yeah, I know, I know,” You sighed. “But that all sounds like so much work!”

“Alright, give me your phone.” Ellie said suddenly.

“What?” You asked, surprised. “Why?”

“Just give me!” She insisted, holding her free hand out.

You pulled out your phone from one of your skirt’s pockets and handed it over to her, eyeing her suspiciously.

“What are you up to, Ellie?” You inquired of her.

“Just hold this!” She replied, handing you the joint. “But no smoking!”

“Yes, sir!” You said with a salute before taking a quick puff.

Ellie rolled her eyes, chuckled, and had you unlock your phone before taking it back to open up your Instagram.

“Okay, what’s your ex’s name?”

“... why?” You asked skeptically.

“Just trust me!”

You squinted your eyes at her before reluctantly giving her your ex’s name and Instagram handle. As you took a generous hit of the joint, you leaned over and watched as Ellie went to your ex’s profile and blocked her.

“Ellie!!” You protested.

“This is for your own good!” She exclaimed.

“Oh god,” You laughed. “Yeah, yeah, maybe.”

“Definitely.” She asserted before typing another handle into your Instagram search bar.

“What are you doing now?” You asked dubiously.

“Replacing your ex with a hotter, much cooler person.” She explained simply before handing your phone back and taking the joint out of your hand.

You looked at your screen to see Ellie’s Instagram profile and realized she’d followed herself through your account.

“Wow. Dinosaur nerd, huh?” You said, noticing one of her posts was of her posing geekily next to a dinosaur skeleton display in some museum.

“Shut up.” She chuckled before hitting the joint.

“Well, are you gonna follow me back?” You asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t really know you that well.” Ellie shrugged.

“You dick!” You scoffed, to which she laughed. “What happened to us being lifelong best friends?”

“Calm down, calm down,” She chuckled, holding the joint between her teeth and already pulling out her phone. “Bossy.”

You felt your phone buzz with a new notification from Instagram.

“There you go,” She said, putting her phone back in her pocket. “Now we’re official lifelong besties.”

You laughed. Your affection for this incredibly handsome and charming girl that you had just met tonight was growing more and more by the second. Every time she laughed at a joke you’d make or stared at your lips a little too long or brushed her skin against yours, you wondered if you were imagining it or if she had been feeling the same spark too.

“Hey, umm,” You began. “Thank you for that.”

“Don’t have to thank me. I’m sure you would have done it eventually. At least, I hope so.” She chuckled at the last part.

“Oh, I don’t know. I honestly hold on to shit like that forever. I would have probably stayed following her ‘til I was I was fifty.”

Ellie laughed.

For the next few minutes, you told her all about the sorry tale of the break-up between you and your ex. As you and Ellie went through and finished yet another joint, she listened to you intently while she leaned against the tree you’d been standing next to. She didn’t interrupt you, aside from an occasional supportive comment or two, intent on letting you rant your pent-up frustrations out.

You hadn’t opened up to anyone else about this, apart from your cousin Rafael. It felt like you had nobody else left to trust your heart with. And yet, there was something so different and familiar about Ellie that made you feel so at home, so comfortable confiding such intimate thoughts and experiences. She happily entertained you as you confessed to her the way you’d never done before with anyone else, her face looking so sympathetic and gentle as she watched you ramble.

“Oh my fucking god,” You eventually said after a while. “I can’t believe I’ve been babbling nonstop about my bullshit, I am so sorry, I—”

You buried your face in your hands in embarrassment.

“Hey, no, no,” Ellie interrupted, pulling your hands away from your face. “None of that. Don’t apologize, please. It’s shit that you obviously have needed to get off your chest for a long time now. I don’t mind listening at all.”

“Okay, but I’m a total stranger who just trauma dumped on you like a dumbass—”

“Alright, no, you are not a dumbass,” Ellie insisted. “And lifelong best friends, remember?”

She gave you a soft smile and began to rub her thumbs against your palms, her warm touch making you tremble.

“Oh, hey, you’re shivering, here.” Ellie said, taking off her motorcycle jacket and placing it around your shoulders.

“Oh,” You said, “T-thanks, Ellie.”

“Looks really good on you.” She commented, smiling. You felt your cheeks go hot again.

“It-it’s very nice.” You said.

“Yeah, it’s my dad’s old jacket. He gave it to me when I was around 14. He used to be a delinquent and was part of some gang or something when he was younger. Rode motorcycles a lot or some shit like that. I’ll tell you more about it one of these days.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Ellie seemed to realize how close she was to your face and how intimately she was holding you. A little sheepish, she walked back a few steps to lean against the tree. She crossed her arms against her chest and, her arms now uncovered, you noticed a large tattoo covering her right forearm.

“I like your tattoo,” You commented. “What is it?”

“Oh,” She said, glancing down at her arm. “It’s a moth with some ferns around it.”

“It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“Thanks. My ex-girlfriend did the tattoo itself, but I created the design.”

“Woah, really?”

“Yeah.” Ellie said, chuckling at your admiration.

“I know you were telling me earlier that you like to draw, but that really is something.”

“It is?” Ellie replied. You could see her blushing even under the dim glow of the moonlight.

“You’re really talented, Ellie.”

“Nah. I mean, my ex-girlfriend Cat, she did a lot of work making it look better and shit.”

“Still, it’s very impressive.” You insisted. “Do you think— Can I…?”

You extended a hesitant hand out towards her tattooed arm. She smiled warmly as she offered it to you.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

You lifted your outreached hand to trace your fingertips across the multiple leaves decorating her skin. You stared at the intricate design of the Death’s-head hawkmoth that was perched atop the ferns.

“It really suits you.” You said.

“You think so?”

“I do.”

As you continued to stroke Ellie’s tattoo, you felt electricity once again run between you two. You looked up at her to see her ocean green eyes staring at you. You’d never seen anyone look at you that way, not even your ex-girlfriend. You tried to decipher her expression when the moment was suddenly interrupted by your name being called coming from the direction of the frat house.

“There you are!” Tara exclaimed, half-jogging towards you.

“Oh, hey, Tara.” You greeted her, pulling your hands away from Ellie.

“Been looking for you everywhere.” Tara said.

“Sorry, the party was getting a little too much for me. Needed a breather.” You apologized before gesturing towards your companion. “This is Ellie, by the way. She’s Jesse’s roommate.”

“Oh, hey, nice to meet you, man.” Tara said, nodding towards her in greeting. Ellie replied with a nod of her own.

“This is Tara, my roommate.” You gestured to Tara this time.

“Nice to meet you too, dude.” Ellie repeated back to her.

“So, uhh,” Tara began. “Half the group is completely wasted, and Astrid really wants to get rid of that guy Fred who has not stopped trying to grope her all night.”

“Oh, gross. Is she alright?”

“Yeah, she’s okay. But we’re gonna order an Uber and we’re about to head home in a sec. Did you wanna come with or…”

“Oh, umm…” You turned towards Ellie.

“Go on,” Ellie replied, smiling. “I think I’m gonna go find my friend Dina.”

“I’m gonna go gather up the girls.” Tara said, pointing a thumb towards the house. “Nice to meet you again!”

“You too, man.” Ellie said as you both watched Tara walk off.

“Go ahead,” Ellie said, head motioning after Tara. “Go help your friends.”

“Are-are you sure?” You said hesitantly.

“Here, give me your phone again.” She said, holding her hand out. This time, you didn’t hesitate and unlocked it before handing it to her.

You watched as Ellie quickly typed for a few moments before placing it back in your hand. Glancing at the screen, you saw that she’d texted a new contact she’d named “Ellie 😛” with the message “hey sexy” accompanied by a winking emoji.

“Oh my god, you’re annoying.” You said, laughing.

“What, you don’t think I’m sexy?” She replied, grinning.

“Goodbye, Ellie.” You chuckled, walking away a couple of steps before suddenly stopping in your tracks.

“Oh, wait, your jacket—” You said, beginning to shrug off her old motorcycle jacket.

“No, go ahead and keep it.” She interrupted, securing it back onto your shoulders.

“Are you sure?” You asked.

“Gives you a good excuse to see my sexy ass later.” She smirked.

“Shut up,” You said, unable to hide a smile. “You are so annoying.”

“You love it.” She said, smirking once more.

As she adjusted the jacket onto you, you realized just how close she was again. You stared at her and she stared right back. There was a moment or two when you gazed into each other’s eyes, neither saying anything. You felt heat increasingly rising to your face when she suddenly brushed a piece of hair from your forehead.

You found yourself completely unwilling to leave this bubble that enclosed only you and Ellie. It was extraordinary how intimately absorbed you felt in this person you’d only seen for the first time today, how enchanted you felt by merely being in her presence. In just a few hours, she filled your mind completely with thoughts of her and only her. You prayed that this wasn’t a chance meeting but the beginning of something life-changing.

The moment was once again interrupted, this time by Jesse.

“Dude, I was—” Jesse began, but upon seeing what he’d walked in on, his sentence faltered. “Oh, shit, sorry—”

“It’s okay, Jesse,” You assured. “I gotta go, anyway.”

You turned back towards Ellie.

“I’ll, umm, see you soon?” You asked nervously.

“I hope so.” She replied, smiling softly.

You began to walk back towards the house, giving a quick goodbye to Jesse. Once you reached the front porch and before you walked through the door, you turned back to where Ellie and Jesse were standing beneath the tree.

You lifted your hand and waved at Ellie, which she returned with her own soft wave. The look on her face looked completely dazed and awestruck. You bit your lip in nervous anticipation, looking into her ocean green eyes one more time before walking into the house.

After a beat or two, Jesse finally spoke.

“Is she wearing Joel’s old jacket?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jesse.”

author's notes:

i can’t believe this is finally out!! sorry for taking so long to update this, but hopefully how long this is will make up for the time ♡︎

the "barbie heterosexual" line is a reference to a line from the iconique movie "imagine me and you" :)

reader's little spiel to tara about her dating preference is just another little love letter of mine towards masc/butch/stud lesbians. just love y'all so much, you deserve the world.

fred is named after another jackson resident in the actual game (as i've probably mentioned before, all the character names in this fic are purposeful: either named after actual characters or named after people irl). i thought it was a silly little reference for him to go after astrid cause in the games, he's barely mentioned except at one point when it's seen he was paired up with astrid for patrol at one point. i enjoy my little easter eggs :)

the descriptions of most of reader’s friends are slightly based on the physical appearances of some of my irl friends :)

i’ve discovered that i really love making these flashback chapters hehe

like i said, i’m so sorry for taking forever to update this!! my life has been an absolute shit show lately (if you’ve been keeping up with my personal ramblings on here, you know by now lol). but the next few chapters have been basically mapped out already, so hopefully it won’t take me that long to update this with the next chapter ♡︎

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn

@uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriesxinthespring, @amitycat, @thefishymissy, @yevheniiaaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam

@elliesnumber1gf, @digit4lslut, @tayyyystan, @emothurman, @livvy-2000, @abigaillovestoread, @gold-dustwomxn, @liabadoobee, @yuckyfucky, @qtefolleunpez

@libr4sonsa, @venusluv3, @robinismywifee, @villainousbear, @ashlynnnnnnnn15, @scarlettadore, @vianna99, @g0n3girls, @totheblood, @embermdk

@awyunh, @kenz-ee, @marvelwomen-simp, @eleactric, @simpforellie, @omgidksblog, @anxiouso, @nyrastar, @lillysbigwilly, @hopeless-y

@elliesbabygirl, @alexpritch, @thestarsanctuary, @aethelwyneleigh27, @cass00x, @mulan-but-gay, @carmellie, @destielcore, @tfuuka, @elliewilliamsmissingfingerss

@sagestuffing, @ewwitsbella, @igoferalforelliewilliams, @miaelliesgfxoxo, @kissesforells, @elysiagyaru, @asteroidzzzn, @gay4jinx, @97cityy, @joliettes

@p1llowthoughtss, @ellieslegalwife, @aouiaa, @lez-zuha, @ineffablefics, @peepshake, @lil-elliesgf, @wex--12, @ccinnamongrl, @siriusblackrunmeover17

@whenlostinthedarkness, @elsbouquet

#nobody compares to you series #ellie williams #dealer!ellie #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie fanfiction #belle speaks #belle writes

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genz420 · 5 months

Text

First Date Headcanons 🍿 ❤️

Masterlist | Rules

Part two

Content: First Date Headcanons

Warning: None

Pairing(s): Character x Gn!reader

Character(s): Percy, Jason, Frank, Piper, Hazel

Percy Jackson

Would definitely take you to the movies for the first date

He would definitely be the type of person to sneak in snacks

He might be the hero of Olympus, but gods be damned, he would not pay over $5 for candy he can get for $2

Would choose the seats at the back of the theatre

Not for why you are thinking

It was the easiest way Percy would be able to see someone or something entering the theatre

Allows him to be able to focus on the movie, you, and the one exit

It would be pretty noticeable he would be focused on leaving rather than the movie

He would try his best though

Do the classic yawn to put his arm over your shoulder

Would offer you candy just to feel the slightest brush of your hand

And after the movie, he would do his best to make the date last longer

Oh you’re walking home, well he just so happens to be heading the same way

Is it because he wants to spend more time with you?

Yes

Does he also want to make sure you are safe?

Also yes

You will definitely be getting a sweet cheek kiss before you two part ways

Jason Grace

Jason would plan a mini golf date

Not the outdoors type of mini golf

But the indoor one where it’s neon colours and black lights

The date would be all fun

No keeping score, but mainly the two of you talking and seeing who took the most amount of shots to get the ball in

Compliments left and right

Even if you two are in a dark room

He is going to make sure you blush

Frank Zhang

Bowling date

It’s a chill way for the two of you to talk but still be engaged in a second activity

Frank is the type of guy to use a five-pound ball as well

He might have the blessing of Mars, but he swears his aim is better with the smaller one

Frank would also be the type of guy to tie the laces of the bowling shoes for you

The type to put nicknames into the computer that everyone else can see

The type to ask the attendants to put up the gutters as well

He would put your name first so that he could sniff out your skills

The game would be in all fun

He will win though

It doesn’t matter how good you are

Frank will be leaving the winner

Afterwards, the two of you would go for ice cream

It doesn’t matter that he is lactose intolerant

He loves ice cream

Piper Mclean

Let's be clear: a date with Piper is going to be a wild time

Whatever you had planned for the date goes out the window halfway through the date

But also she would bring you flowers or some type of other gift

Doesn’t matter what you identify as

She is bringing your favourite flowers

You better take care of them

Back to the date

In the end, I think the date would end up turning into a walk

Arm in arm

Or hand in hand

The two of you are not going to be at more of an arm's length from one another

There would be stories told, and jokes made

You will be leaving with an inside joke for sure

She would also compliment you to no end

Did something slightly different with your hair

She notices and makes sure you know she notices

Hazel Levesque

Hazel is the type to plan a picnic

Like she goes all out

Picks the best place in New Rome where you are able to see the city and the nature

Takes you there at dusk so you guys can watch the sunset

She might be from the past but she knows how to charm someone

But seriously, she would go all out on the food

Make sure to use past conversations to bring your favourite foods and drinks

You like an obscure sweet from where you are from

Arion and her just so happened to come across it while out

And the setup

The red checkered blanket is already laid out for the two of you

The two of you would definitely spend the time talking

About yourself

About your time in New Rome

About her time with the seven

There is never a dull moment

Also, I think she could bring fun activities for the two of you

Will def be swapping paintings every five minute

#percy jackson x reader #jason grace x reader #frank zhang x reader #piper mclean x reader #hazel levesque #hazel lavesque x reader #percy jackson #jason grace #frank zhang #piper mclean #pjo x reader #pjo #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo tv show #percy pjo

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princessmisery666 · 7 months

Text

Just Say You Love Me

Summary: Dean is trying to embrace his emotions and look to the future. Part 3 of 3. Part 2 - The Right Guy On Paper.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: fluff, mentions of cheating.

W/C: 4,901.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mentioned: Jody Mills.

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: ”Would you please, shut up, I’m trying to confess my love for you.”

A/N: Obviously this was supposed to posted on a certain day (you'll get what I mean when you read) but it just wasn't where I wanted it to be at the time so I waited. Two-ish weeks later ain't bad though.

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

Pulling off the highway, Dean grumbles, “This is stupid,” to himself again. Yet, he had called Jody to make sure you weren’t working, made the two-hour drive, and hadn't veered off route to the nearest bar.

It’s been a few weeks since he saw you at Jody’s cabin. You’ve spoken on the phone a few times and met him halfway to Kentucky to give him a lore book Claire had borrowed. But no in-depth conversations have been had, which he’s okay with because one, it’s a conversation to be had in person and not while he is neck deep in a case, and B, he doesn’t know what to say or how to tell you what he wants because he’s still not sure himself.

So, in the safe confines of Baby, he asks himself again why is he driving to your house on Unattached Drifter Christmas or ‘Valentine’s Day’ for the schmucks?

Before he can do a little soul-searching and find the answer, his cell phone rings.

“Hey Sam, what’s up?” he answers.

“Why are you in Sioux Falls? Something wrong?”

“Everything’s fine. Wait, how do you know where I am?”

“You were way too vague about where you were going. You always have a plan for today,” Sam explains, “figured you were up to no good and better keep an eye on you in case you get into trouble like last time.”

“Last time was almost five years ago, and for the hundredth time, I didn’t know she was married,” Dean snarks.

“Plus, you didn’t turn off your GPS,” Sam says as if he hadn’t heard Dean’s argument. “So why are you in Sioux Falls on Unattached Drifter Christmas?”

He falters for a second, thinking of an excuse, and before his pause becomes suspicious, he blurts, “There’s a new bar opened up. Wanna try it out.”

“This bar called Y/N’s, by any chance?”

“What? No!”

Sam laughs, and that all-knowing chuckle reminds Dean that Sam is onto him and there’s no point in denying anything. “It’s a good thing, Dean,” his brother assures him. “You may not have told her outright, but she’s smart. She’ll recognize you showing up today, of all days, is your way of telling her you want…” Dean waits, hoping that Sam will impart the answer that eludes him, but huffs in defeat when his brother adds, “Whatever it is you want.”

“This is stupid,” Dean grumbles, “I’m being stupid.”

“No, it's not,” Sam scolds. “I’m sure today will be tough for her. So, just being there for her is a good thing. It doesn’t have to be deep conversations. Showing up and supporting her is enough.”

Dean considers that Sam is probably right, but it doesn’t make him feel any less insecure. “Maybe.”

“Have fun,” Sam says before hanging up.

Five minutes from his final destination, his phone chimes, alerting him to a text message.

Jody: She’s at Lucky Shots, fifth wheeling it.

“Dammit, Sam!” he snarls, but he’s not really mad, saves him a trip to her empty house.

The break at Jody’s cabin was revitalizing, and the feeling has stuck for the few weeks you’ve been back in your routine. It probably helps that you removed every trace of Luke from your life the moment you got home. The confrontation with Dean was cathartic, too. You’ve analyzed what he’d said about not wanting you to meet someone new and that he missed you, and asked Jody for her opinion, too. She’d wistfully smiled as if aware of something you weren’t, “Maybe you gave up on him too quickly.”

You didn’t want to admit that Jody was probably right. Yet you had made assumptions, choosing to believe that he didn’t want anything serious, and after admitting to yourself that you wanted something more, you had decided to go out and find it somewhere else.

That realization turned out to be at the forefront of your mind today. You're thankful to your friends, Laura and Sara, for the invitation and for not allowing you to stay home and eat your emotions. Being the fifth wheel isn’t the issue. It doesn’t bother you, even on Valentine’s Day. They chose a lowkey, casual games bar, not some romantic, candlelit restaurant, and for that, you are eternally grateful. The issue is Luke is there. It could be worse. He could be with her, but fortunately, he’s with two of his buddies.

The bar has darts, beer pong, pool, skee ball, knock down a clown, and a few other amusements. You're locked into a tight game of girls versus boys beer pong - the beer having been replaced with tequila shots - and you can feel Luke’s every glance as if he’s waiting for an opportunity to approach.

It’s the last thing you want, and your friends were kind enough to offer to leave when he arrived, but you stubbornly refused. You had no reason to leave. He should be filled with so much shame and regret that he can’t bear to face you, but he has the audacity to look like a wounded puppy, and that makes you angry.

The game is down to the wire, and the final ball is down to Chris and Dylan, your friends' partners. Dylan massages Chris’ shoulders, “Come on, buddy, you got this. For the win!”

You all hold your breath as Chris releases the ball, and the boys celebrate the victory with loud cheers as it lands in the cup, having barely touched the sides. You, Laura, and Sara shoot another round of tequila. The sourness of the lemon you suck on adds to the disapproving look you catch Luke throwing your way.

Asshole. How dare he judge you!

“I demand a rematch!” Laura declares.

You agree. “My turn to buy the drinks.”

Sara escorts you to the bar. Though she masks it as helping you carry the drinks back to the table, you know she’s doing it to protect you from an unwanted visitor.

“I need the bathroom, but I’ll meet you back here,” Sara tells you, “if he comes over before I make it back, stomp on his foot and poke him in the eye.”

You laugh, really belly laugh, because she’s totally serious, and it’s also hilarious to think he’d have the balls to actually approach you.

“Who’re we looking out for, honey?” the elderly woman beside you asks, lips pursed and looking sassy.

Sara tells her, “Other end of the bar, tall white guy, blond hair.”

“Green shirt?” she asks for confirmation.

“That’s the one.”

“Uh-huh,” she tuts, “I know the type, handsome as an angel, spirit of the devil. You go on to the bathroom. I’ve got your friend until you get back.”

You don’t doubt the lady’s confidence. You wouldn’t mess with her.

“Thank you, Miss…”

“Call me Beverly,” she introduces, and Sara shakes her hand before skittering off to the bathroom.

You wait your turn to be served, listening to your protector tell you all about her first husband, “the devil incarnate.”

If only she knew.

You face forward, not even side-glancing in Luke’s direction, not wanting to give him any inclination you may want to talk. You don’t. Beverly turns and rests her back against the bar to see the whole room without looking over her shoulder.

“Oh, sweetie,” your new friend says, “there’s another one of those handsome-as-an-angel men walking this way, and I think he’s looking for you.”

You still don’t turn, but look up into the mirror behind the bar and see him. Dean maneuvering around people and tables, coming straight toward you.

Unintentionally, you gasp, a sheepish smile creeping in as you lock eyes with him in the mirror.

“From that reaction, I don’t think you need help with this one,” Beverly says, sweetly taking a step to the left to make room for Dean.

“Hey,” he says, a half smile making him look a little awkward.

“Hey,” you say as he leans in to kiss your cheek, and when he’s close, you whisper, “Everything okay?”

He pulls back, nodding with a slight frown as if the question was offensive or something. “Yeah, everything is fine, just passing through and wanted to say hi.”

“Passing through?” you ask, suspicion clear in your tone.

His frown deepens, clearly trying to sell the lie, pretending to be confused by the suspicion.

You smirk. “Just happen to be passing through on Unattached Drifter Christmas?”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “How much do you and Sam talk?”

“A lot,” you confess, “emails, phone calls, memes, and then there’s the weekly newsletter.”

“Busted.” He laughs, and it shakes off whatever anxiety he was feeling.

The bartender comes over and takes your order. You add on whatever Beverly is drinking for the rest of the night, which reminds you Sara has been gone a while. You turn around to look for her, and Dean looks over his shoulder. Sara’s back at the table. All of them are staring at you but quickly and comically turn around as if they weren’t when Dean finds them.

“Sorry,” you chuckle, “they’re just looking out for me cause Deputy Dick is here.”

“Shit,” he grumbles. “Is me being here going to be a problem?”

“Probably, but that's his problem.”

Dean laughs, and you really have missed it. The easy relationship you had seems to be a thing of the past, but you want it back. Maybe not the sex because you’ve realized that's where the problem lies. You want more from him than you'll ever get, but at least the friendship could be mended.

“But don’t waste your Christmas on me, Dean,” you say. It's subtle but enough to tell him that hooking up is off the table.

That disgruntled frown appears again, and he looks genuinely offended. “I’m not here ‘cause I think I’m gonna get laid.” He explains, shrugging. “Running into you isn’t a coincidence. I was on my way to your place because I didn’t want you to be alone tonight. Jody told me where you were.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to take from that?”

“Take it for what it is,” Dean suggests. “I’m trying.”

You can work with that. Trying to be friends sounds like just what you need. No pressure or expectations from either side, so you quickly squash the thought that it means something deeper that he’s choosing to spend time with you instead of finding a warm body to lie with.

“Okay.” You smile, trying to look as sweet as possible. “Well, can part of that trying be helping us win at beer pong?”

“Girls versus boys?”

“Obviously.”

He scoffs, “Absolutely not! And you get an extra shot for asking me to rig a sacred game.” He hands you a shot off the tray of drinks, and you knock it back.

He watches you, grinning the whole time, and you shake your head as if it will shake away the taste. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“Don’t try and soften me up, Winchester,” you warn, “I’m not gonna take it easy on you.”

He shrugs, “Was worth a shot,” and walks away with the tray of drinks.

Chris and Dylan merrily call his name as he approaches, and you follow, smiling fondly.

“Now the odds are even. Prepare to go down, ladies,” Dean says, taking off his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbow.

The games continued; the boys won at Beer Pong, but the girls won two rounds of darts. Once Chris and Dylan had gushed over the Impala, you said your goodbyes in the parking lot. Each of your friends hugged you. Dean got a kiss on the cheek from the ladies, and the guys gave him a firm handshake before pulling each other into a one-armed hug. It looked natural and easy, and you love how well Dean slots into the group.

You realize you’re staring as he drives, and he glances over when he feels your eyes on him. “Are we still social distancing or something?” he jokes, reaching a hand over to tug on your leg, requesting you get closer.

You oblige, sliding over the leather seat, and he slips an arm behind your shoulders to rest on the seat back. “Thank you for that,” you say, kissing his cheek.

“For what?” he asks.

“Pretending like you couldn’t hit that bullseye with your eyes closed.”

“Well, I’m supposed to be a mechanic, right? Not sure a mechanic would have perfect marksmanship.”

“If you’re not sold on the mechanic thing, you can always tell them you’ve changed your profession,” you suggest, and with a teasing wink, add, “but they all already know you’re good with your hands.”

“Would you, for once, get your mind out of the gutter?” Dean jests, “I already told you, no sex for you.”

“Sorry, Mr Winchester, sir,” you joke, “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

He laughs but looks out at the road. His fingers lightly brush your neck. You aren’t sure he realizes he’s doing it. When you were sleeping together, it became a thing - absentmindedly, he’d lightly stroke your skin while watching a movie or falling asleep. It's familiar and comforting, and you lay your head on his shoulder the rest of the ride home.

Dean follows you up your path, and while you search your bag for your keys, you notice him looking to the left, eyes squinting, trying to see something too far away.

“Wanna come in?” you ask, distracting him from whatever has caught his attention.

“It’s not a good idea,” he says, giving you his full focus, “I meant what I said, Y/N. I didn’t show up cause I was expecting to get laid.”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t considered throwing caution to the wind and jumping into old habits. And you're surprised by Dean’s rejection. He could have followed your lead and taken you to bed without any objections.

“Presumptuous much?” you counter, smirking.

He smiles, all charm and smug joy, because he knows he’s right. “Don’t try and pretend you weren’t thinking about it.” He steps closer, crowding your space and gripping your hips to pull you against him. “You’ve been flirting with me all night.”

“I can stop,” you threaten, but it falls flat as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He grins, “No, you can’t,” against your lips, kissing you before you can claim otherwise.

The kiss is not hesitant; it’s deep and long, but you feel him holding back. His hands don’t roam, remaining wrapped around your waist, but he takes his time, savoring the shared warmth, each brush of your tongues, every breath shared.

Dean is the first to pull back. “I gotta go,” he swiftly kisses you again. “I told Jody I’d be there before midnight.”

“Gonna turn into a pumpkin, Winchester?”

He laughs, pecking your lips again, but then his features soften, something close to pleading, “I’m trying,” he grumbles, but you're not sure if it's to remind you or himself.

He doesn’t say exactly what it is that he’s trying, but you know he means he’s trying to do things the right way, and that’s enough. “You're doing great,” you assure.

He kisses you harder, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip, and you let him in. He walks you backward until your back hits your door, and he groans when he presses himself into you. “Nope,” he scolds himself, pulling back and comically jogging away down the path, but while you're still laughing at him, he turns back. “Can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?”

You smile, and it widens to a knowing grin. You spare him the OMG shock when the realization hits you, but you do ask, “Are we dating?”

“Only if you say yes?”

“Pick me up at ten.”

He winks, unable to contain the boyish grin, and just as he opens his mouth to say something, a siren blasts, and a sheriff’s car pulls up to Baby’s bumper.

You walk a few feet to stand beside Dean as Travis, the rookie, and Luke, in plain clothes, step out of the vehicle.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean says.

Luke and Travis stand beside each other on the sidewalk but don’t approach you.

“Ten out of ten for dramatic flair,” you snark, clapping once.

“But should have done it while I was kissing her,” Dean adds, “would have been way more dramatic.”

“I think you meant douchier,” you suggest with a confused frown.

“You’re right,” Dean clicks his fingers as if you're right on the money, “I meant douchier.”

“Funny,” Luke says. “Travis, this man has been driving under the influence. Please breathalyze him.”

You put a hand on Dean’s arm to keep him in place should he decide Luke deserves another punch to the face. After all, he’s not in uniform. Travis is wise enough not to move. You're his boss. Luke has seniority over him but not over you.

“Really?” Dean sneers. “That's all you got?”

“Go home, Luke,” you tell him, “you’re making a fool of yourself.”

“So what if I am,” he says, “I just wanna talk.”

“We’ve talked,” you remind him. “You talked, I listened to your piss poor excuses, and it changed nothing.”

“We were going to get married.”

You raise your voice, “That was a reaction to your cheating! You only asked me because you felt guilty, and I only said yes because…” you cut yourself off, but Dean looks at you, knowing what you had been about to say.

“We were good together,” Luke says, seemingly oblivious to the silent conversation that passed between you and Dean. “He’s just a,” Luke sneers at Dean. “What did you call it? A situationship.”

Dean tenses under your grip, and you know the comment had the intended effect. You’ll have to address it later.

Clenching his jaw, he briefly looks away before leveling a glare and taunting, “Dude, have some dignity. She’s already told you it’s over.” He practically growls his next words. “So leave.”

Luke ignores Dean, looking directly at you. “You're angry, I get it. But don’t make any rash decisions, please.” he implores.

“I was angry,” you agree, “I was furious, but now I’m indifferent. You were a rash decision, Luke, and I’m not saying that to be cruel or get back at you. It’s the truth.”

Saying those words aloud drives home your previous thoughts of why you started dating Luke. Getting engaged was a reaction to your feelings of rejection from Dean’s honesty about commitment. You release a breath as Luke’s face drops, finally seeming to understand.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

He shakes his head, blasting out a breath filled with disbelief. “We were never going to work out,” Luke realizes aloud, “you were too hung up on him.”

“Travis, I’m sorry you were dragged into this,” you sigh, “but please take Luke home.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Luke stares for a second longer, but chooses not to say anything further, allowing Travis to usher him into the car.

Dean doesn’t move, watching the car disappear from view at the end of the street. Your heart pounds in your chest; you’ve just gotten to a good place, and now that might have all been unraveled.

Though you suspect not a lot of it is surprising to Dean. The day you told him about Luke, he’d begged you not to tell him you loved him and he was right for the assumption that you did - or do or might. You can not say it even reject the idea if anyone suggests it, but you can’t deny it to yourself. You sought out Luke to replace the emotions you felt weren’t reciprocated by Dean.

“Maybe I should take you to breakfast,” you suggest, with a nervous chuckle, “to make up for that. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he assures you, but he’s looking you over like he’s trying to read the emotions behind the words. “You okay?”

Quickly, you reply, “Yeah, of course.”

“You sure? You look like a bit of ‘deer caught in headlights’.”

“I’m okay,” you sigh, taking a deep breath. “Just a little worried that's undone all the progress we’ve made.”

“It hasn’t,” he tells you, slipping a hand on your hip and pulling you into him. “This situationship can handle an ex-situationship.”

You grimace, “I’m sorry.”

He laughs, nonplussed, “Don’t be. I’ve been called worse.”

He silences your next apology with a deep kiss and slowly, seemingly reluctantly, pulls back. “I’ll pick you up at ten for breakfast.”

You're rambling again. Since Valentine’s Day, it’s been happening a lot. Dean knows why you're doing it. He can see it in your expression every time you catch yourself and stutter over the words, changing it to something else and hoping he doesn’t notice.

The first time it happened, a few weeks ago, Dean thought he misheard you. You were both breathing heavily, your thighs pressed against his ears, holding him in place, writhing while you rode his tongue. He watched your face as much as he could, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your body twitched, and your climax coated his tongue and wet the sheets, “I love yo…when you do that.”

Three days ago, after a double date with Sara and Dylan, Dean woke you up in bed with coffee and French toast. Still in the haze of sleep, you smiled contentedly, and it almost slipped out. “I love…” you coughed to cut yourself off, correcting it as you sat up, “I love French toast.” But he could see it in eyes, the adoration tainted with the fear of saying it aloud.

‘I love you’ is on the tip of your tongue, and it almost escaped a moment ago.

A car accident had kept you late at work, so the dinner reservations had to be canceled, but Dean wouldn’t let it ruin the night. He’d ordered pizza, knowing you’d be starving when you got home, run a bubble bath (with the ulterior motive of joining you), popped open a bottle of your favorite wine - he hated it, thought it tasted like vinegar - and was waiting in the middle of the living room for you with the glass in hand.

Taking the glass from him, you lazily kissed him. He could feel how tired you were. Listlessly, you mumbled, “Oh god, I love yo…” but had stifled it so quickly that the rim of the glass clinked against your teeth.

Clearly unable to think of an alternative, you began rambling about your day while unnecessarily blitzing around the already clean kitchen with a dishcloth.

He wants you to say it. He figured out how he felt about you when it finally sunk in after you’d told him you’d met someone else. It was more than physical, and it always had been. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have hurt so damn much when you told him about Luke.

He hasn’t said the words to you, but you have to know that’s how he feels. He told you he’s trying. Although, there haven’t been any conversations about exactly what that entails. He’s been more communicative. He’s made future plans - okay, only a week or so ahead at any given time, but that tells you all you need to know, right?

But the way you keep avoiding the phrase sets off a little ripple in his heart. Maybe you don’t know. Maybe you’re afraid he’ll hightail it out the door like last time if you say it aloud. Maybe he needs to expand his communication skills. He says your name softly, but you either don’t hear him or pretend not to, afraid of what comes after.

“I should get you a key cut,” you blabber in. “Save you having to pick the lock next time I’m not home. Don’t want the neighbors calling it in. Mrs Brooks next door is always twitching her curtains.”

He tries again, “Y/N,” louder this time.

“I need to put a load of laundry in,” you say, striding into the laundry room.

“I did it already,” he calls after you.

“I’ll put it in the dryer then.”

He follows, trapping you inside the smaller space so you have no choice but to turn and face him.

“The laundry is done and folded in the basket in your room.” he continues, speaking to your back. “The kitchen is clean. Pizza is on the way. The bath should still be hot.”

You finally look up at him, and there’s that apprehensive smile again, but your eyes are aglow with the words you chew your lip to suppress.

“Just say it,” he sighs, trying to hide his smile.

“Say what?”

He steps closer, crowding your space and using a gentle touch to tilt your head up to keep your eyes on his. “You know what.” He smirks, teasing, “You can’t bite your tongue forever. So just say you love me.”

“I wasn’t biting…” you stammer, “I never…I only meant I was going to get a key cut for you. I didn’t mean anything….”

“Would you please, shut up?” He silences your rambling with a hard kiss, grabbing your hips and hoisting you to sit on top of the dryer. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sigh placidly, but he pulls back and grins, “I’m trying to confess my love for you.”

You drop your gaze, avoiding eye contact. “Please don’t.”

He notes your avoidance of looking at him, and panic sets in that maybe he’s got it wrong, again. But he hopes he’s right, so he chuckles, “giving me a taste of my own medicine.”

You shake your head, “No. I don’t need to hear it, and you don’t have to say it ‘cause you think it's what I want to hear.”

“That’s not what…” he tries, but you raise your voice to speak over him.

“Dean, please!” you wait for him to close his mouth. “I like how things are now, and I don’t want to jinx it or have to watch your ass run for the door again.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, “it will be different this time.”

“We’ve been through this already. I don’t want promises, and we don’t need to open old wounds.”

“I get why you’re…”

The doorbell interrupts him, and you use the excuse to push him aside as you jump down and scurry out of the room.

He leans against the doorframe facing into the kitchen and listens to you thank the delivery guy. You must have given a generous tip because he thanks you multiple times as you say goodbye to him.

The click of the door closing echoes, and he waits for you to appear, but you don’t. He imagines you standing in the hallway, trying to calm yourself.

He waits, counting the seconds in his head with the promise that he’ll go find you if he reaches thirty.

At fifteen, you enter, eyes glued to the floor, pizza balanced like a cocktail waitress. “I’m gonna go take that bath,” you tell him. “Hopefully, it's still warm.”

You’re assuming the conversation is over. Only it isn’t. At least, not for him. He hasn’t been working up to it. He’s never had a grand plan for the first time he says it, but now he knows he needs to say it so you understand and believe him.

Silently, he watches you put a few slices of pizza on a plate - so he presumes he’s not invited to the bubble bath. The stopper gives an audible pop when you pull it from the wine bottle, like an exclamation point on his thoughts.

He clears his throat and proclaims, “I love you.”

The only indication that you heard him is your frozen state, bottle tipped, ready to pour into your glass.

“It took me too long to figure that out, but I do. And saying it or not saying it out loud isn’t going to change a damn thing.”

You continue to pour the wine into your glass but don’t turn to face him, recorking the bottle and resting against the countertop.

You haven’t run away, so he continues, “I always knew we were good together, but now I see that we have a whole future of being good together, not just the here and now.”

Hesitantly, he stalks closer to you, watching you take a large gulp of the red liquid. You must hear his approach because you turn around but jump slightly at his proximity.

“I’m ready to move forward,” he confesses, “and I want to do it with you.”

“Are you done?” you ask, finally looking up at him with a teasing but joyful smirk under a shy gaze. “You’re on a roll there. I just want to be sure before I say anything.”

He laughs but shakes his head once, “Nope.” He takes the glass from your hand and puts it beside the bottle. “One more thing,” he leans in closer, tilting your chin up, lips whispering over yours, “I love you.”

You chase his lips as he pulls back, “C’mon, you know you want to,” he teases, making no attempt to hide his smugness. He’s got you right where he wants you. “Just say you love me.”

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