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dallaji · 1 year ago

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Hope we make it to the Cloud.

♡ bada lee x idol!reader / NSFW❗

SUMMARY: Amidst an identity crisis, you try to adequately prepare for your solo comeback. The lyrics have already been perfected, the song recorded and the visuals pinpointed. However, your creative team is not fully convinced by the choreography you came up with. They decide to send over one Bada Lee to help you finetune your jumbled ideas and bring harmony to your vision. You just have one specific request: the routine must include a trampoline.

WORD COUNT: 10k

CW: eventual smut, bada is 100% a giver and not a receiver in this jsyk (but i promise it makes sense in context), hinted voyeurism.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was meant to be pure smut but it became much longer than i intended ... oops for that . . . lets just roll with it!!1 also the choreo described is heavily inspired by tinashes bouncin.

- you don't care about those 7k words worth of boring build up? skip to this line: <After ten minutes of complete silence, Bada was the one to speak in a hushed voice: “What happened?”>

————— ୨୧ —————

The first thing you notice is how surprisingly gentle her voice is.

“I’m Bada, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Bada Lee stood tall in front of you, clad in an oversized jersey, cargo pants and a cap hugging her forehead in such a way her eyes were entirely obscured from your view. She promptly bowed after she spoke. Unsure where to look, you dropped your gaze and followed suit; vaguely aware of her seniority and bowing deeper.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” You tried to keep your own voice as neutral as possible, but agitation bubbled in your chest as you felt your manager’s prodding, eager eyes behind you. “Thanks for being here.”

Your team was much more excited about this collaboration than you were.

None of the aggravation you felt was Bada’s fault. It had been three weeks of your creative team dismissing every choreo draft you came up with: Three weeks of sleepless nights at the dance studio, tiring out yourself and your background dancers. Three weeks of browsing through videos sent in by other choreographers across the country, attempting to mix bits and pieces together but none of it ever feeling right. Three weeks filled with reminders of a deadline looming over your head. Three weeks of your team letting you know they had little confidence in this comeback. Your last attempt at showing them what you had come up with had ended up in a shouting match. Your manager, who you otherwise got along with just fine, bluntly stated that, perhaps, this concept simply wasn’t something you could pull off.

It had left you feeling betrayed. Your creative team had agreed it was time for you to approach a more mature concept, something that you felt was years overdue. But it seemed their definition of mature and yours were wildly different. You had worked hard on perfecting a set of songs to choose from, but you immediately butted heads with the rest of the team. You wanted to do the bouncy and playful R&B track. Your team wanted the EDM track. Eventually they relented, but now seemed hellbent on making it as difficult as possible for your vision to come to fruition. Putting together the visual board for the concept photos and the eventual music video was a similarly arduous process. You had to meet in the middle and sacrifice a lot of your initial ideas, but that procedure was almost pleasant compared to what you were dealing with in regards to the choreography.

Every idea you put forward was promptly shut down. Too complicated. Too boring. No TikTok challenge potential. Too sexy.

And maybe it was true. Your formations weren’t as clean as the ones thought up by a professional choreographer, but you weren’t really given a chance at all. It wasn’t like you were a bad dancer either. Far from it. You picked up choreos incredibly fast and had always played an active part in brainstorming past routines alongside your background dancers. You had more experience than most of your peers, yet you were treated as if you were still the same teenaged trainee from years ago.

“Is that really how you all feel?” You had whispered after your manager dropped that bombshell, searching for an answer in the facial expressions of your creative team. Most of them were not even willing to meet your eyes. “We just need to be realistic.” Your manager stated matter-of-factly. “That other song is still an opt—” “I am not changing the song.” You cut him off. Momentarily, your manager looked like a fish on dry land, gasping for air. “Sorry.” You added quickly, albeit a bit flustered. “Look,” He sighed, “We can do mature without shocking the nation. Let's keep it mild for now and maybe after two or three more singles, you can go all out.” “I haven’t been 18 in years, you know.” You retorted bitterly. Something inside you understood where he was coming from, but you had been obedient since your debut- how much longer should you wait? You didn’t want to sacrifice any more of your creativity, so many years into your career. You had even seen one of your own concepts go to a labelmate instead, your own team dubbing you too “youthful” to pull it off. “Okay, how about this,” He began with a frown, “Let us pick one of the choreographers’ drafts for you. You can finetune it with their guidance.”

Their pick had been Bada. You hadn’t even realized she sent in a draft: at one point you were so overwhelmed you just stopped checking your emails. You also hadn’t bothered to watch it before this meeting. You were genuinely too deep in your feelings about that whole ordeal for that. However, now that she was standing in the studio, tall height towering over you, you couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious.

You had seen Bada around.

After all, she had worked with many of your labelmates before. You had also watched a fair amount of her videos. She was one of the best in the business, and whenever you had downtime to practice freely you scrolled through her routines on Youtube to help stay in shape. As you were facing her, even with half her face hidden, you understood why everyone was so stricken with her. When she had walked into the room she oozed with authority, though not in an obnoxious way.

“Great!” Your manager clapped his hands, effectively breaking your train of thought. “Thank you so much for supporting us, Bada. Shall we jump right in?”

“Sure,” She nodded eagerly, hands wringing together as her body turned towards you. “I kind of wanted to see what you had in mind for this choreo.”

That surprised you, and you were certain your facial expression wasn’t hiding it. Your manager held his breath. “Oh! Well—” You chewed on your lip as you vaguely motioned the corner of the room, trying to find the words. “I wanted to use… I wanted to use a trampoline.”

Bada immediately turned her head to follow your gestures, her eyes landing on the mini trampoline set up in the studio. “A trampoline?” In the background, your manager heaved a sigh.

You purposely ignored him and nodded, slowly: “I can show you, if you want.” You had hoped that sounded more self-assured to her than it did to you.

Bada scratched her chin, still looking off to the trampoline, and then nodded along with you. “I’d love to see it.”

You felt the tension in your chest ebb away. There was no malice to her tone; she seemed genuinely curious.

Then, Bada turned her head towards your manager, her ponytail falling off her shoulder. “I hope I'm not imposing but, I would like this to be a collaborative effort between the two of us. I think it would take the pressure off if you…?” She trailed off with a kind smile, one impossible to say no to.

As if he got doused with cold water, your manager stood up with an urgency. “Privacy! I can give you two some privacy, no problem!” He fussed around, gathering his things. “Just let me know when we can sit in on the finished product.”

The both of you bowed to him as you bid your farewells, watching him leave the studio with a wave. Once the door shut behind him, you could feel yourself exhale in relief. You knew that if your manager was going to sit in on every practice, he would go out of his way to shut down all of your ideas. Without him around, you had more opportunity to champion your vision- at least, you hoped so.

You craned your neck, looking up at the ceiling, before letting your eyes fall shut with a sigh, almost forgetting there was another person in the room.

“They’ve been on your case, huh?”

Bada's soft but clear voice broke you out of your spell, and you turned your head to search for a glimpse of eye contact. Tough luck, as her hat was still in place casting a shadow down her face. There was, however, a knowing smirk playing across her features.

“You have no idea.” You muttered honestly. Bada laughed.

“I don’t want to make you dance a routine you don’t fully stand behind. I did mean it when I said I want this to be a collaborative effort.” Bada spoke carefully, but sincerely, her fingers once again intertwining. “I always wanted to work with you, so it’s an honor.” She added.

If you got a penny for every time you were caught off guard today, you could set some humble savings aside for an early retirement.

It is true that you’ve been sought after, but it wasn’t something you had ever internalized. Hearing it come from someone who herself was heavily sought after, made your face heat up.

“T- thank you. It’s an honor to work with you too.”

She bowed her head humbly, glancing over to the corner of the studio again where the trampoline sat, waiting. “Do you feel comfortable showing me what you have been working on?”

You nodded and rushed to the corner to set up your speaker, and then dragged the trampoline to the center of the room. You were oddly aware of your own presence, and almost felt the urge to make yourself smaller as you moved around. In the meantime, Bada was getting comfortable: she had dropped her things on a nearby table and left out a bottle of water. To her it must be a regular working day, but to you this felt scarier than getting up on stage.

Once you stood behind the trampoline, facing the wide stretched mirror filling up one side of the room, you stole a glance at the choreographer who was now crouched on the floor. She had pulled out a small camera and was setting it up on the edge of the table, making sure the lens was focused on your position. Long fingers fiddled with the buttons, and her tongue was prodding the hollow of her cheek. The angle allowed you to finally catch a glimpse of her eyes.

As if on cue, she glanced up at you. Your eyes met in the reflection of the mirror and your heart raced.

She gave you a soft smile and moved to sit cross-legged on the floor, the camera now fully set up. “I usually record everything, so we can watch it back and give feedback.”

Right, of course.

“Yeah, that’s usually how we operate as well.” You spoke timidly, and it was true. Yet something about having her attention on you felt more intimate. Usually there was at least one other person from your creative team looking on as well.

Trying to come across casual, you tied your hair up in a high ponytail. “What do you think of the song?” You asked curiously.

It was now Bada’s turn to be caught off guard. Her smile faltered and she broke the eye contact you had been sharing, clasping her hands together as she spoke. “I like it.” She began. “A lot, actually. It’s why I wanted to play a part in it. There isn’t anyone doing a song like this nowadays.”

Even though her body language was confusing, you couldn’t find any dishonesty in her voice. What she said made you feel relieved, some of your insecurity fading to the background. It’s why I wanted to play a part in it.

You sent a smile her way even though you weren’t sure she was even looking at you.

Proving you wrong, she smiled back.

“Alright, so,” You gestured to the trampoline at your feet. “The idea is, the other dancers and I all do the same routine. I'll be front and center. Four or six other dancers dance behind me, with their own trampoline.” You gave the trampoline a light shove with your foot, making sure it would stay in place, and then grabbed your phone. “Then you have an idea.”

You looked over your shoulder at Bada and gave her an inquisitive thumbs up. “Ready?” You asked.

Bada pressed a button on the camera and mimicked your thumbs up with a smile. “Ready when you are.”

You faced the mirror again and shook your shoulders a bit, forcing your body to loosen up. After twisting your neck a few times, you hit play on your phone, quickly placing it under the trampoline as the familiar synths of the song started blaring from the speakers. You tried to feel the confidence you were usually able to conjure up on stage, closing your eyes and swaying your hips, ponytail moving from side to side.

As soon as you heard your own voice through the speakers, instrumentals going deeper, you got into position. Your eyes opened up to focus on your own reflection in the mirror as if it was a fan in the crowd watching. Mouthing along to the lyrics, a playful smile on your lips, you hit every move as you had envisioned. Once the chorus came up, you dropped to your knees on the trampoline, grappling the edge as you performed the routine. Pushing back against the springs gave you the velocity to keep your moves fluid, your body twisting and turning, flipping over and hitting the next move. You made sure to move your hips deftly, aware that you had enough curves to allow you to pull it off, and kept your facial expressions in line. It had to look effortless.

You felt your ponytail swing along with your movements as if it were an extension of you, and sat up on the trampoline. The chorus came to an end and you used your arm strength to twist yourself around fast enough, gracefully falling back on your chest whilst keeping your toes en pointe in your sneakers. The tips of your fingers were touching the floor as your legs crossed, moving to rest your elbow on the edge of the trampoline and resting your chin atop your palm. You lip synced to the final words of the chorus, gaze alluring as you finished the move, and the music stopped.

You slowly sat up straight on the trampoline, crossing your legs, and slid your hand underneath to hit pause on your phone. You looked towards Bada expectantly, but the question got stuck in your throat. She was staring at you, mouth slightly agape, with an unreadable expression. For a split second you were reminded of your trainee days, when you had just finished a routine and were met by your choreographers’ stern faces; they wouldn’t spare you a single compliment, and instead listed off every mistake you had made.

But then, Bada blinked once and then twice, as if in a daze, and let out a soft “woah”. She started applauding you, shaking her head in bafflement. You felt your shoulders drop in relief.

“That was incredible!” The choreographer took off her cap, fixing her bangs before putting it back on. “You came up with this?”

You nodded slowly, the tips of your ears glowing hot. “I used to be a gymnast.”

“I can tell—” Bada spoke bluntly, but then snapped her mouth shut as if she said something wrong. “I mean, that was really good. Every part of your body was in command. Your team didn’t like it?”

“They think it’s too much, compared to my usual routines.” You had the urge to go off on a tangent, but ultimately you didn’t know Bada well enough. Unfortunately, you were naturally quite expressive and the disapproving frown on your face was on clear display.

“Too much? I kind of wanted more, actually.” She laughed softly, looking down to where her legs were crossed. You felt your heart skip a beat and bowed your head in lieu of a thanks.

Subsequently, the bright green light of the camera caught your attention. It was still recording.

“Hey, I think the camera is still on.” You spoke before you realized, and hoped it didn’t sound accusatory.

“Huh? Oh!” Her expression was almost akin to a child being caught with a hand in a cookie jar, the way she swiped at the camera to turn it off. “Sorry. Good call.” She mumbled shyly, tucking it behind her.

You weren’t sure what to say next, still flustered at her lofty praises, but luckily Bada broke the momentary silence.

“I had an idea…” She began, her hand rubbing at her chin pensively. “I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to watch my draft yet?”

You shook your head abashedly. “No, sorry, I honestly didn’t get to it.”

“It’s fine.” Bada waved her hands dismissively. “Maybe instead of doing the trampoline routine in every chorus, we could only do it in the middle? Exactly as it is. I wouldn’t change anything. And then for the other two choruses, we could keep some key moves but keep it on the floor.”

You mulled it over for a second, glancing up at the ceiling contemplatively. Using the trampoline the whole way through was not an option, according to your team. They had felt you were toeing the line with ‘raunchy’ much too closely. Perhaps you could find middle ground this way, while still keeping the part of the routine you felt most proud of.

“Okay.” You agreed, nodding slowly. “We would need something special for the final chorus, then.”

“I had another idea for that, if you’re fine with it. Would you like to watch my draft with me?”

————— ୨୧ —————

Her draft was good. Really good, actually.

Bada and you were sitting on the floor next to each other, the taller girl holding her phone out in front of you as the draft played on the screen. You were sitting quite closely together, but not close enough to be touching, a conscious decision on your part. You were a bit too aware of her presence, something about her was heightening your senses in a variety of ways. It wasn’t even as if she was stern or unkind, she just had an aura that intimidated you. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

A blonde girl you didn’t recognize was dancing your parts. Six other dancers, one of them being Bada, were in formation behind her performing the choreography perfectly in sync as your song played in the background. While you should really be paying attention to the girl in the center, your eyes couldn’t leave Bada’s figure. In the video she was dressed in loose-fitting cargo pants, just like today, and a crop top. Once again she wore a cap covering half her face, and even a face mask, but her hair hung loose over her shoulders.

You were always impressed by the small movements she was able to squeeze in, emphasizing certain parts in ways the other dancers weren’t able to. However, it was the final chorus that had your hands turn clammy.

The final chorus was a duet formation. Bada, with a quiet confidence in her step, and the blonde girl moved towards each other in the center of the room. They were effectively dancing for each other, the blonde girl whipping her head back as Bada stared her down, swaying their hips together rhythmically. Their steps were coordinated in such a way they almost mirrored, Bada rolling her body one way and the blonde girl moving the other; but it still felt cohesive. It was an intimate choreo. There were a few split moments of hips grinding against crotches, but it never lasted long enough to be straight up inappropriate. Still, you couldn’t help but realize you would have to practice this routine with Bada as well, and you felt yourself getting hot under the collar.

The choreo ended with the blonde girl giving Bada a playful shove, and the taller girl backed away slowly, a saunter in her step, before moving off the screen along with the other background dancers. The video ended and Bada dropped her phone in her lap, not looking at you.

“That was good.” You were relieved your voice came out evenly, and Bada started nodding in her trademark way, hands clasped together. “The formations were really clean and— I loved the final chorus.” You blurted.

She smirked, head raising and meeting your eyes for the second time today. You were starting to feel eager, greedily watching.

��I’m glad to hear. We definitely need to finetune the first chorus, line it up with your routine and all that. I really don’t want to lose your input.”

“That sounds great, thank you.” You felt a surge of gratitude in your chest, and shot her a wide smile. “I’m looking forward to working on this together.”

Bada dropped her gaze again, worrying her lower lip. You felt miffed at the brusque interruption of your shared eye contact but didn't show it.

“I suggest we start with practices tomorrow, we will edit the first chorus as we go,” She whipped out her phone, looking at her calendar. “We should practice the duet together until you’ve got a handle on it, and then I can bring over some of my guys to prep for the actual performances. I know someone for my part. He’s worked with some of your labelmates before, I’m confident he’s right for the job.”

You couldn’t tell if you were anxious at the prospect of practicing such a choreo with Bada, or if you were disappointed that the eventual product wouldn’t be performed with her. It made sense, though. If your label was already worried your concept was too mature for the country, having two women perform such a choreography wouldn’t be received well at all.

“Great. Same time tomorrow, just the two of us again?”

“Same time tomorrow,” The third time she was willing to meet your eyes, and once again with a small smile playing across her features. “Just the two of us.”

————— ୨୧ —————

Working with Bada the past few days has been surprisingly easy.

On the first day, she brought some iced coffee for the both of you and presented it with an exaggeratedly deep bow, holding out the plastic takeout bag in front of her as if she was a lackey presenting you a treasure. You giggled, muttering an incredulous “thank you” as you took the bag from her hands. Through sips of coffee, the both of you fast forwarded through the recordings trying to piece the choreography together. You were able to bounce ideas off of her in a way you never felt comfortable enough doing with other choreographers. Bada was attentive, patient and, above all, eager.

On the second day, you wanted to repay your debt and entered the studio with a box of doughnuts. She let out a surprisingly girlish squeak when you laid the box on the table, and barreled over to grab one. That day she was wearing a beanie instead of a cap, something you inadvertently preferred as you could now lock eyes and take in her features. Sometimes you had the impression she was hellbent on looking anywhere except into your eyes, but you didn’t want to mull it over for too long; some people just had a different way of interacting. Everything else about her still left you with a warm feeling.

Sometimes you both took turns performing for each other. She would pull her beanie further down her head as she took the center of the studio, and each time something inside you would brace itself. You could only watch in awe: her movements were sharp and magnetic, her entire body language changing in the blink of an eye. While your attention should be on her footwork, you were instead hypnotized by the sway of her hips, greedily drinking her in. You chalked it up to her being such a captivating dancer.

However, little could explain how much you relished in her undivided attention. When it was your turn to copy the moves, you made sure to give it your all and put on a show. Without a hat obscuring her eyes, you could tell where her eyes were looking and it wasn’t always on your reflection in the mirror. You swore you could feel her gaze burning in your lower back, but you didn’t mind. It encouraged you to hit your moves a bit harder than you usually would.

“You’re a fast learner,” Bada said at the end of the day, drinking from her water bottle as you watched her throat bob. “Keep it up and you won’t need me anymore.”

You didn’t like the sound of that.

————— ୨୧ —————

By the fifth day, the both of you had started working through the details of the duet.

The familiar song sounded through the speakers, the room filled with the sound of your singing voice and the squeaking of your sneakers on the floor.

You were painfully aware of the way Bada closely danced behind you but you kept your eyes down, forcing yourself to keep track of your footwork. You bent over slightly at the start of the next line, your hips popping out and letting your hair whip to the side as you hummed along to the lyrics. In tandem, Bada moved her hips the opposite direction but gyrated closer to you, her hand coming up to tug her cap lower. You spared the mirror a glance for a split second, realizing Bada was much closer to you than you had realized, but you pushed the thought away.

You looked good together.

“Pause real quick.” She spoke suddenly, stepping away from you and bending over to stop the song. You immediately halted your movements at the command, trying to control the heaving of your chest and willing away the warmth of your cheeks.

She stood up again, meeting your eyes in the mirror before steadying herself behind you, body close to yours.

“You’re doing great, but,” A tentative hand slid to your hip, fingers curling over in a loose grip as she subtly urged it to move to one side. Both your eyes remained locked through the mirror. “I think we should move together in this part. Like this.” She repeated the motion, her grasp on your hip tightening ever so slightly before pulling you flush against her pelvis. Her hips rocked along with yours, and you could only follow.

She hummed close to your ear, and you felt her breathe along the side of your face. “Just like that.” Her voice was quiet, gentle even, though her stare was everything but that. It was intense.

In an attempt to sound casual you replied with an “okay”, but it came out softer than you had hoped for.

Her eyes dropped from the mirror, opting to look down at you directly, but you couldn’t find the confidence to return the favor. “You should do that thing again," she continued quietly, "Where you throw your hair back, but look at me when you do it.”

You repeated your steps, but this time both her hands came down to hold your hips in place. You turned your head as requested, your hair falling over your shoulder as your eyes finally met. Her gaze was intense but undecipherable; she hadn’t been looking at the mirror at all this time.

Bada was so close, unblinking and heady. The thought entered your mind before you fully realized: if you craned your neck you could kiss her. In a careful motion, you felt her hands slide up and down slowly, smoothing along the curve of your hips.

“Perfect.” She said, and it sounded so intimate you felt lightheaded. Usually she voiced her approval with an animated smile and a thumbs up, but she spoke to you as if she was scared you would set off running. “You got it. You want to try that again with music?”

You nodded slowly and her hands dropped from your hips, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. As she bent down to turn the song back on, you brought the back of your hand up to your cheek; checking if it was as warm as you felt. Then you ran your fingers through your ponytail, tightening the hair tie with a sharp tug in an attempt to snap yourself out of whatever daze you had fallen into.

It meant nothing. She had merely workshopped a move and there was no need to feel so nervous.

The final chorus of the song began thumping again and the both of you got into your starting positions. Bada’s presence was palpable behind you, but you tried to force your head back into performance-mode. You kept your moves sharp, lip synced as if the voice came directly from your own throat and smiled playfully at all the right lines.

As the instrumentals of the final chorus got louder, you twirled a finger around your ponytail, playing with the imaginary crowd in front of you. Bada pressed up against your back. Your hips moving in tandem just as the choreo required and you could no longer repress the urge to grind back against her. You saw Bada smirk in the mirror, her eyes obscured by her cap, but you could tell she was enjoying your blunt display of confidence. That made you laugh for real, putting an extra ‘oomph’ into the roll of your hips, dropping even lower, and feeling Bada take what you gave her with a great amount of enthusiasm. You heard the choreographer let out a "woo!" and you giggled.

At the very end of the choreo, you were meant to face Bada and push her away; making room for a final solo moment. So you turned around, meeting that familiar mischievous grin and your hand came up to curl into her collar. Bada sucked in her lower lip, greedily towering over you and looking down expectantly.

But something about the giddy atmosphere had you feeling bold, so you tugged her even closer instead. Her mouth fell open, but she followed you down nonetheless, eyes becoming half-lidded. You were mere inches removed from each other, and her breath fanned across your face. For a split second her gaze lingered on your lips, and you held your breath, heart fluttering in an unfamiliar feeling. A fleeting thought told you to bridge the gap, pull her impossibly closer by the grip you had on her collar, but your body acted before your brain could.

You reached for her cap and tugged it off her head, putting it on yourself in one swift movement and then shoved her away as you were supposed to do; effectively breaking the spell. You turned on your heel to look back at your reflection in the mirror, consciously blocking Bada from your periphery and closed out the song. The music stopped.

Now that the studio was quiet you could hear the both of you catching your breaths, and rather than facing Bada while your face was still heating up, you flopped onto the floor, limbs spread out. You moved Bada’s cap atop your face, blocking out the bright lights of the practice room, feeling exceptionally winded.

You felt Bada sit down next to you and she promptly pulled her hat off your face.

“Ow,” You uttered lamely, arms coming up to cover your face instead. Surely the shame you felt was on wide display and you had to save the little bit of the reputation you had left. You could already hear her voice, albeit uncharacteristically, echo in your head: “What was that?” “Why didn’t you just stick to what I told you?” “That was highly unprofessional.” Your stomach churned.

But instead she said: “That was incredible.”

“Huh.” You exclaimed unintelligently. You tentatively moved your arms from your face and were met with Bada staring you down, her hat back in place. It would probably be too weird if you went back into hiding, so you dropped your arms uselessly.

“That was incredible,” she repeated, a fond smile on her lips. “You are incredible. I’m telling you, we’ve got a hit on our hands.” She extended her arms excitedly, as if she had to convey the sheer magnitude of potential you both had crafted.

“You really think so?” You sounded breathless, the warmth in your chest blossoming.

“I know so. Seriously? If your team doesn’t like this, they’re idiots.” Her bluntness kicked a laugh out of you, and you playfully whacked her knee. “No, I mean it!”

“It wasn’t too much?” Slowly you sat up, tugging at the front of your shirt clinging uncomfortably to your body from the sweat.

Bada tilted her head, blinking at you sympathetically as she weighed your words carefully.

“I’ve already told you,” her voice was quiet, as if she was worried someone else might overhear, “I can’t get enough of you. The same goes for the public, by the way.”

That made you want to kick your feet like a teenager, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fought the impulse to fall into her arms. Instead, you dropped your head with a timid smile hoping that did enough to show your gratitude.

Bada placed a hand on your shoulder with a touch so soft she might as well be reassembling a broken vase, urging you to look at her. “Let's take a break, order some bubble tea and then watch the recordings. Sound good?”

You leaned into the touch with exhilaration. “Yeah. My treat, though.”

————— ୨୧ —————

The tenth day coincided with a photoshoot in the morning. You had gotten up at 4am to get to the location early enough so that there was enough room for your stylists to get to work.

The first thing you noticed was the visual board you had worked on tirelessly a few weeks prior.

It had changed.

Some of the images jumbled around or left out entirely, replaced by ones you did not recognize or even liked to begin with. Even the color scheme had changed. Before you could ask your manager about it, however, your hair stylist beckoned you to follow her into the booth. Still groggy, with just a protein shake in your belly to keep you at bay, you followed without objection.

But then, after you emerged fully made up with your hair in intricate braids and ribbons, you saw the backdrop you were going to work with and the outfits you would be wearing: they looked nothing like what you had agreed on.

Once sown into the baby pink corset, you looked at your reflection in the mirror with a glassy expression, too exhausted to even express the anger that was simmering in your chest.

“What happened to the costume I commissioned?” You asked your manager in a flat voice, fully realizing you wouldn’t like whatever the answer would be.

“Oh,” But he didn’t sound surprised at all, “We didn’t really like how it turned out, so we decided to go with something else. Pink looks good on you, you know.” He added hurriedly.

You blinked, clenching and unclenching your jaw. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene in front of all the staff. Firstly, it wasn’t their fault; secondly, word got around quickly and the last thing you needed was a trending blind item about diva behavior. With great difficulty you swallowed the venom down your throat and walked over to the camera crew without sparing your manager a single glance. Bowing to everyone separately, you turned on the autopilot. You just needed to get through the day. You posed for the flashing of the cameras, turning your brain off.

“That’s a wrap! Great work, all.” The photographer’s voice snapped you out of your daze, and you slowly stumbled away from the backdrop, blinking back tears.

“Great job everyone, thank you for your hard work.” You hoped your voice sounded even and hurried away to get changed.

Once alone in your dressing room, you bent over the sink with your hands in your hair. You didn’t understand. They had seen the choreography Bada and you had worked on, and approved. They had been enthusiastic even, and it felt like your team and you had finally buried the hatchet. Now you understood why they were so pliant in their acceptance of the final choreo; they had found something else to exert their control over. You didn’t want to cry, so you grit your teeth and untied your hair, fingers smoothing out where the braids had been.

Bada.

In the bustle of the early morning you had almost forgotten you were meant to start your first practice with the entire dance crew today, with Bada as the lead choreographer ensuring everything played out exactly according to your collaborative vision. It had been almost two days since you had last seen her, yesterday being a day off for the both of you, and for some reason it felt like a lifetime.

You wanted to see her, but you weren’t sure if you could dance today.

You arrived at the studio about an hour later, right on time, with most of your makeup cleared from your face and dressed in joggers and a crop top. This time you were sporting a cap as well, hoping the dancers wouldn’t notice the fatigue etched on your face on your first day with them.

Everyone was already there. Some dancers stretching, others practicing and a few watching the recordings while in deep discussion with Bada. Her flannel shirt was bunched up at her elbows as she made grand gestures with her hands, explaining something to the dancers in front of her. As the sound of the door opening and closing filled the room, the tall girl perked up mid-sentence, shooting you a wide smile.

“Hey! I got you some coffee.” She spoke brightly, walking over to you in big strides as her loose braid fell off her shoulder. You had just finished bowing to everyone when you turned to Bada, feeling your chest swell at the sight of her. “How was the shoot?”

She must’ve noticed something. Perhaps it was the sag of your shoulder, the way you bit your lower lip or the exhaustion in your eyes; but her smile faltered slightly when she got a closer look.

“It went alright.” You spoke neutrally, unable to meet her eyes but adding a nod to come across as reassuring as possible. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Bada stood a bit helplessly but seemed to understand that prying any further would be futile. “Of course, it was my turn, after all.” She smiled carefully. “You wanna get started?”

“Let’s do that.” You agreed, hoping that dancing would get your mind off of things.

Bada gathered everyone together and gave a small speech, making a conscious effort to do all the talking so you could comfortably hide the swelling insecurity you felt deep in your chest. You nodded at the right times, smiled at the dancers (some of them peeking at you in awe) and tried to come across relaxed.

Once Bada finished talking, she called for everyone to get in position as she strode to the far end of the room, where she had the most optimal view. You moved to the front, right next to your trampoline, facing the mirror and vaguely took note of a tall guy with a buzzcut who now stood in the spot Bada did when you had been practicing with her. Something about her not being part of the dance anymore, even though you perfectly knew this was going to be the plan all along, made you feel even less secure.

You shook your limbs loose, trying to empty your head for the sake of the dancers who were all blind to your inner turmoil and instead incredibly excited to be here. You did not want to waste their time. Once again, you forced yourself into auto pilot.

The song started playing, bubbling synths building up to your first lines, and you danced. You danced as you had practiced with Bada, but weren’t able to envision the crowd in front of you. Instead you relied on muscle memory, which worked out well enough. Even when the tall guy was behind you for the duet, hips grazing yours, you didn’t feel very aware of your surroundings at all. Sometimes you all had to stop midway when Bada noticed that someone was offbeat or out of position, but you slid back into the moves easily. The team was strong, too. You danced the choreo once, twice, thrice and a fourth time. When you grabbed the guy’s collar, you pushed him back immediately, unlike what you had practiced with Bada, and finished your move.

Bada clapped her hands together with a cheer.

“That was solid, everyone!” She strode over, giving everyone a thumbs up. “Some things we have to smooth over, but we are way ahead on schedule. Let’s take five. I— Are you okay?”

You barely realized your own actions until you felt the warm tears run down your cheeks. You had sat down on the trampoline in such an unceremonious way, body shaking from exertion as you tried to hold back hiccups. Panic began crawling up your body and into your throat. Suddenly aware of the dancers seeing you in such a state, you took your cap off and held it in front of your face.

“Actually, since we are ahead on schedule, let’s make this a short day.” Bada’s authoritative voice declared to the entire room. The dancers nodded along nervously, glancing at your hunched figure with palpable worry. “Great work everyone, make sure to get home safe. Same time tomorrow.”

You croaked out a soft “Thank you, everyone” through your fingers, but your voice was barely audible. You couldn’t face them.

Footsteps rushed around the room, the dancers gathering their backpacks off the floor. You barely registered the hushed voices slowly echoing further and further away from you, until the door shut with finality; a lock sounding in place and silence reigning over the space.

Bada’s hands came to rest on your shoulders as you felt the trampoline sink with her added weight. Then she pulled you into her arms with a tenderness you had never experienced from anyone before. Your arms tightened around her frame in instinct, dropping your cap onto the floor, and your heart constricting painfully as you hid your face in her chest.

She didn’t speak as you hiccupped soundlessly, letting the exhaustion pour out of you with quivering shoulders. Bada’s hands traced comforting lines along your back, her cheek pressed against the top of your head as she waited for the trembling of your body to subdue. In turn, you tried to focus on the steady rise and fall of her chest, her breathing lulling you.

After ten minutes of complete silence, Bada was the one to speak in a hushed voice: “What happened?”

You glanced up at her, tears still running down your cheeks as you choked back a particularly pathetic sob. “I’m sorry…”

Bada let out an affronted gasp, bringing her hands up to cradle your face instead and letting her thumbs wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Please don’t apologize. Tell me what happened.”

“My team,” You began with a slurred speech, “They still don’t believe in me. They don’t think I can pull this off.”

Your voice sounded heartbroken: “They make sure to remind me every chance they get. My manager is certain I am going to embarrass the nation, because there is only one thing I can do and it’s not this. I can’t be sexy. I don’t have good ideas. And maybe they’re right! I don’t have the charisma to pull this off. My fans are going to hate it, because it’s not the person they wanted to support—” There was nothing you could do except keep going, like a faucet running, and Bada let you, “—I can’t even wear what I want. My visual board was cybercore inspired. I had a red PVC two piece outfit custom-made, but they put me in a pink dress and ballet shoes.” You added, horrified; not at the clothes, but at the clear disconnect between your team and you.

Bada, who was nodding along to your words with a serious expression up until that point, chuckled at your words, thumbs still catching tears. “Well I always thought you looked like a pretty princess, but that’s indeed a bit on the nose.”

The follow-up to your rant died in your throat, eyes widening at her words. Your brain was short circuiting. “You think I’m pretty?”

The taller girl scoffed at that, brows furrowing. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

“Why?” You asked, genuinely.

For a moment she gawked at you, deep in thought and searching your face for insincerity. Bada was unable to find it.

“It’s not the only thing I think of you.”

Something about the atmosphere in the room changed when she spoke, and you almost forgot why you were upset in the first place. She carefully tucked your hair behind your ears, her eyes staring into yours unblinkingly. It reminded you of the way she had looked at you during practice days prior, when you had pulled her close by her collar for the first time. Her attention on you was suffocating, but you were glad to be drowning.

You sucked in your lower lip for a split second, releasing it, and waited with bated breath for her to continue. Her eyes dropped immediately, following your movements. She slid one hand down to the crook of your neck, slowly, the tips of her fingers tracing along your skin and leaving shivers in their wake; her other hand curled under your chin with a loose grip, tilting your head back slightly. Your head felt so heavy you could only lean in closer, wanting more of something you couldn’t even put in words.

But as always with Bada, she seemed to know what you wanted before you could open your mouth and ask for it. She closed the distance, brushing her lips against yours in a soft peck, and it was when you realized she was also holding her breath.

Her thumb trailed along your jawline, breath fanning over your lips. “Is this okay?” She asked quietly. You placed your hands on her thighs to brace yourself, your own lightheadedness overwhelming you, and nodded.

There was a shadow of a smirk on her lips when she kissed you a second time; lips connected with more force this time before gliding together in tandem. She tilted your head to get impossibly closer to you, her hand moving from your chin to tangle her fingers into your hair and cradling the back of your head. When her lips parted and closed around your bottom lip, nipping eagerly, you inadvertently let out a soft noise at the warmth of it all which only seemed to spur her on further.

You curled your hands into the front of her shirt as her back straightened, crowding around you as if her goal was to subdue, the trampoline creaking underneath your shared weight. She seemed to relish in overpowering you, inhaling sharply through her nose when you parted your mouth for her further.

You felt the tentative prod of her tongue, and accepted. The wetness made you shiver as she swallowed your quiet gasps. The hand that was previously nestled against your neck slid lower, began exploring along the curve of your waist and feeling the bare skin your crop top couldn’t reach to hide.

She parted the kiss, and you let out a soft whine. Biting her lip in an attempt to hide her smile, but ultimately failing, her eyes were drinking you in. You could only imagine what you looked like as even Bada was flushed all over, chest heaving from excitement. Then, as if she was reading your mind, her eyes glanced over to the mirror in front of you.

Bada shifted her position behind you, running her fingers through your hair before ultimately placing her palm against the other side of your waist. Steadily, as if she were correcting a move during practice, she turned your body to face the mirror. At this rate you simply accepted the effect she had on you, and wordlessly obeyed her ministrations. She planted her feet on the floor, long legs on either side of you; and ultimately caged you in, nestling her chin into the crook of your neck. Her eyes never left the mirror.

She brushed some of your hair over your shoulder as if she were propping up a doll, and spoke in a hushed voice: “Look at yourself.”

The sight made you feel all the more dizzy. Through half-lidded eyes you barely recognized your own reflection; hair slightly mussed and lips swollen and lovebitten. Someone did that to you. Bada did that to you.

The taller girl, pressed up against you, placed a kiss on your shoulder, fingers running up and down your body and making the hairs on your arms stand straight in exhilaration. You loved the way she touched you, how it made you feel; as if she was tracing the lines on an art piece. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered against your shoulder, “people would kill to see you like this.”

The honesty in her voice made something in your stomach roll. “Bada…” You began, but you didn’t even know what you wanted to say.

“You have no idea how other people look at you.” Her hands cradled the small of your waist, fingertips digging into your hips. “So let me show you how they look at you.”

She began kissing up your shoulder, soft and warm presses of her lips, before parting her mouth against your neck with a tangible hunger that left you sighing. You tilted your head to the side to give her more room and every inch you freed, she swarmed eagerly. Her tongue swirled against a patch of skin, hand flattening on your lower stomach as the other traced higher and higher, along your ribcage, before inquisitive fingertips moved under the hem of your top. As she sucked a mark onto your skin, you clenched your thighs together at the familiar sensation between your legs. Your eyes slowly fell shut as she crept up higher, lips pressing right below your earlobe with a barely-there hum.

She whispered: “Keep looking at yourself.”

You obeyed bashfully, right when Bada reattached her lips to your skin. She had been tracing lines along the hem of your sports bra, enthralled with the way you shivered in her grasp, before slipping a hand under; her hand was warm as she kneaded your breast, but your nipples stiffened at the sensation all the same. You pushed out your chest to convey your delectation, and she rewarded you by sinking her teeth into your skin. Suddenly, with a swift movement, both her hands hoisted up the hem of your top and bra, and pulled it upwards, your breasts releasing from its confines. The cold air made them perk up and Bada’s hands cupped the underside.

She detached her lips from your skin with a wet sound before looking up at the mirror, taking you in with her saliva-slicked mouth agape.

“So pretty,” Bada muttered, bringing your breasts a little higher, “Are you sensitive here?” She wondered loudly before tracing her thumbs right below your nipples. Once again your legs squeezed together, feeling yourself throb from excitement, and Bada picked up on the hint with a wide smile. “You are.”

In your reflection you saw Bada bring her fingers up to your mouth, thumb pressing down on your bottom lip imploringly, and you opened your mouth. She slipped her digit past, pushing it back against your tongue and you sucked obediently. Her eyes were drilling into yours through your reflection, enthralled by how pliant you were under her care.

You released the digit with a wet ‘pop’ and Bada promptly brought it to your nipple, rubbing it in circular motions as her other hand continued to knead your other breast. A quiet moan escaped you, chest rising into her touch and Bada giggled, pressing another kiss on your shoulder. Your own hands ached to touch her, but she kept you firmly locked between her legs; instead you squeezed her upper thighs, feeling her shapes through the baggy cargo she was sporting.

“Give me a kiss.” She commanded, and you immediately twisted your neck to capture her lips.

It was all teeth, wet noises echoing through the room as your tongue swirled against hers; the taller girl groaning into your mouth at the sheer force you exerted. She gave your nipples a pinch before rubbing her fingers over them repeatedly, and she swallowed your breathless moans greedily. You dug your nails into her thighs as she cupped your breasts again, her tongue slipping out of your mouth to trail along your bottom lip instead. Your head was chanting her name, getting drunk on the near delirious attention she gave you. Tilting your head back even further, you connected your lips again even though the angle was uncomfortable. You were starting to feel desperate, hips lightly rocking back against the firmness of her body as Bada sucked down on your tongue.

One of her hands released your breast and trailed down the expanse of your stomach, once again breaking the kiss and instead opt to look at you in the mirror. Her fingers found the knot of your joggers as your eyes met in the reflection, and she pulled on the string; untying it.

“Okay?” Bada inquired meaningfully, and you nodded much faster than you intended. “Let me hear you say it.” The tone of her voice, which was otherwise so gentle and quiet, made your full body shiver.

“I want it.” You spoke breathlessly, squirming impatiently between her legs as her fingers finally slipped down your pants.

She trailed along the sweatband of your underpants before cupping your heat over the fabric, fingers pressing against your folds inquisitively. Her eyes never left yours, quietly measuring your reactions. Unwittingly your thighs clamped around her wrist, breath hitching in your throat as she began to caress you with a touch so gentle it didn’t fit the precarious position you both were in.

“You’re so wet.” Bada spoke coyly, smirking at the way your eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. She began rubbing circles over your covered folds, feeling your wetness spread as if on command. Your breathing turned into whining, subconsciously grinding back against her hand.

She removed her hand much to your distress, until you realized what she wanted: Bada began tugging the fabric of both your joggers and underpants down as far as she could, before giving your hip a commanding pat. You raised your hips to assist her ministrations, and she pulled the clothing down past your knees before you kicked them off fully.

Your thighs were pressed together when you got back in place and suddenly felt self-conscious at how exposed you were despite your own eagerness. Bada wasn’t having it: her eyes were taking in your figure, hands immediately coming down to smooth along your thighs. Then, she squeezed tightly and wrenched your thighs wide apart, making you expose yourself for her. Before you could instinctively close them, her long legs hooked over your ankles, forcefully keeping them in place. All of it only made you throb harder.

“You don’t want to know how often I’ve been thinking about this these past few days.” Her hands smoothing along your sides in marvel, cupping your breasts once more. The tip of her nose pressed against the shell of your ear. “How many times I’ve watched those recordings and imagined you, exactly like this.” Her fingers fit into your mouth once again, and you sucked on them, letting your tongue swirl along the digits as if you were starving for it. “I think I lost count.”

Her confession made you moan around her fingers, shivers running down your spine. She scooted back ever so slightly, pulling your hips back with her unoccupied hand until it was the angle she needed, and then dropped it between your legs. Her fingers spread your folds and she sucked in a breath, completely mesmerized by your reflection. You were still swallowing around her fingers and she hummed encouragingly, hand cupping your vagina and spreading your wetness across your heat.

She removed her fingers from your mouth and you caught your breath, fingers digging into her upper thighs as you braced yourself. As one hand kept your folds spread, the other, spit-slicked, began rubbing slow circles against you. You gasped at the sensation, mumbling her name in amazement. You raised your hand to the back of her head; grabbing a hold of her braid to simply have a hold of something, but it earned you a particularly sweet noise from the girl behind you. Your hips rocked back against her movements trying to find more friction in the right place, and Bada slowly sped up, moving her wrist up and down to try and find the spot that did it for you. Her lips pressed against the back of your neck so tenderly, and something about the dichotomy between that and the way she was touching you between your legs made your eyes roll back; lids closing as you thrusted back against her hand.

You didn’t understand how she was able to build up to that familiar knot in your stomach so soon, and it almost made you feel embarrassed, until you realized Bada was savoring every second of it. Her eyes never left your form, as if she were studying just another choreography, lips parted in an awestruck way. You had long foregone the urge to keep quiet, vocalizing exactly what she was doing to you: You let a particularly loud moan leave you when she rubbed along your most sensitive spot. Trying to pull more sounds from you, she pressed against your clit with more force and rubbed faster. Your hips could only chase her touch as your lower stomach constricted.

Bada brought her hand up to her own lips and lapped at her fingers, effectively pausing her motions for a split second and thus drawing a broken whine from you; both because her hand wasn’t where you needed it to be and also because she had no qualms about having you in her mouth. It didn’t last long: she hushed you soothingly as she put her hand back where you felt it belonged and used the added wetness to add faster friction against your clit. Your head rolled back and you tugged at her braid, pulling an attractive groan from the girl behind you.

You weren’t far away anymore. Your lower stomach was unbearably tight with desire and you were a gyrating, frantic mess against her hand while her fingers rubbed against you in vertical swipes, her name falling from your lips repeatedly as if you were reciting a prayer.

You managed to utter an “I’m close”, and Bada crowded against you before you could start begging her for release. “Come for me.” She demanded, and then immediately captured your mouth in a desperate kiss, teeth clashing together while she drank your sweet moans.

As if on cue, the tension in your stomach imploded and you gave her braid a sharp pull. You gasped into her mouth, no longer kissing each other but rather breathing each other's air, as your orgasm rippled through you.

You felt your whole body quiver and shake in pleasure as Bada led you through your release, thighs trembling despite the hold the choreographer’s legs had on you. Her fingers hadn’t left your core, but the rubbing slowed down until you were gasping at the overstimulation, yet unwilling to make her hands leave you. As if she read your mind her movements came to a halt, but she pressed her palm against you; almost possessively. She planted kisses along the side of your throat, whispering praises against your skin as you caught your breath.

Once you had the rise and fall of your chest under control, her arms curled around your waist in a fond embrace, and you turned your head to look directly at her. She had already been staring at you, meeting your eyes with a bashful smile. The two of you laughed at each other, and Bada pressed your foreheads together.

“That,” You mumbled, eyes falling shut as you relished in her open affection: “Was amazing, thank you.”

“Was happy to do it.” She responded playfully, rubbing the tip of your noses together affectionately.

“Will this happen every time I get self-deprecating?”

“I definitely intend to do this more often, but you could also just ask nicely.” Bada retorted with a smirk before pecking your lips. You giggled, putting your hands over hers and leaning back into the embrace.

After several more shared kisses and hushed whispers, both of you decided to get a move on: you were starting to get cold in your exposed state so Bada urged you to get up. She helped you step back in your clothes, a smug self-satisfied grin never leaving her face when she noticed the unsteady wobble in your legs.

When you pulled your bra and top back over your breasts, Bada pouted. You gave her a playful shove but she caught your arms instead, bringing them around her neck as her own enveloped your waist.

“Wanna grab dinner?” Her eyes were round and hopeful.

“I would love that.” You replied, and gave her a kiss.

As the both of you tidied up the practice room and gathered your things, Bada listing off food suggestions in the background, your eyes slid to the table at the front of the room.

A familiar device remained perched on the edge, a small green light lighting up proudly.

“Hey, Bada.”

“Hm?”

“Camera’s still recording.”

She stumbled over looking mortified, snatching the device off the table and rewinding haphazardly.

“Oh, fuck.”

#bada lee x reader #swf2 #bada lee #bada lee smut #street woman fighter 2 #dalla!writes #im sorry in advance bhahaha #idk what i did

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retrosabers · 3 months ago

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𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒.

anakin skywalker x fem! reader

summary: you really shouldn’t be letting anakin touch you like this. but if it’s so wrong, why does it feel so good?

contains: 18+ content. MINORS DNI. very steamy kissing, some minor grinding, riding, choking if you squint, anakin being a little shit

word count: 1.3k

a/n: kinda a rushed/shit ending but i found this in my drafts & i’m trying to post consistently to keep inspiration coming. so enjoy this baby fic of ani ;)

there’s a certain thrill that comes with breaking the rules.

you were always one to abide by them. believed that they were created for a reason, and that was reason enough to obey.

then you met anakin skywalker, and he threw that entire notion out the window.

he was temptation personified. forbidden fruit that you longed so desperately to have, to taste. between his lidded gaze and cocky smiles you found yourself entranced with the chosen one in ways that the council would’ve deemed shameful.

no attachments. that was the rule. but could desire be confused with attachment?

you were about to find out.

anakin’s lips slot against yours like it was meant to be. your hands tug at the collar of his robes, desperate to pull him impossibly closer in the dim lighting of the hallway. your every nerve was hyper aware of both his touch, and your surroundings.

anyone could come across you in this compromising position. despite the fact that everyone else retreated to their chambers for the evening, there was still a chance that a straggler was left wandering the halls. it makes you tense in his hold and pull away reluctantly.

you breathe out his name. a soft, desperate sound that makes his dick hard. the corner of anakin’s mouth turns up in a smug little grin.

“we can’t,” you shake your head, stating it matter of factly. like it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy, because it was. you were never a rule breaker, only a devout follower with good intentions. out of all the disobediences you could’ve ever committed, this would by far be the worst.

the rules of the jedi council weren’t something you treated as a request. they were orders. defying them meant defying a belief system you held so close to your chest, and letting go of everything you’ve ever known.

anakin knows it. and he’s determined to push you to the limit.

when his mouth returns to you, it’s gentler. more intimate. as if he’s trying to convince you to let go without outright saying it. his flesh hand comes up to softly stroke your cheekbone and you melt into him once more. your body thrums not only with lust, but with something else entirely. there’s a deeper connection between you both, an electrifying sensation that’s being drawn to the surface.

it’s like the force is telling you this is what you’re meant to do. and that maybe, just maybe, not every rule is meant to be followed.

anakin lets out a deep chuckle as you drag him back to your quarters with an eagerness he’s never seen before. as soon as the door shuts he presses you against it, aligning your cunt with his growing erection while his lips attach themselves to your neck.

when he finds your sweet spot, you gasp, muttering a curse as he smirks against your skin. one hand is wrapped firmly around your waist while the other maps out your body. a brush of fingers against the top of your ass, an experimental squeeze of your breast. anakin was making haste in figuring out what little things made you tick. he knew time was of the essence, and he wanted to make the most of it.

“just tell me what you want,” anakin murmurs next to your ear. his voice was low, dripping with a desire you could only dream of. you rubbed your thighs together to try and relieve the growing ache between your legs. he takes note, ego inflating over the effect he’s had before even touching you properly. his metal hand grabs your chin between the thumb and forefinger, forcing your eyes to meet.

“whatever you want angel, it’s yours.”

he means it. fully and completely. tonight, anakin was yours to take. you could bleed him dry of anything and everything and he’d die a happy man.

your hands find purchase at the nape of his neck, threading your fingers through his sandy colored curls and dragging his face back to yours. it’s a heated mess of teeth and tongue that has you whining into his mouth when his hand lightly wraps around your throat.

he knew you weren’t just oogling at it for nothing.

when anakin pulls back, your lips seperate with a wet smack. he thinks he might cum on the spot just from how wrecked you look already. eyes on the brink of glassy, desperate and pleading for him. your lips in the most perfect pout, kiss bitten and glistening while you rake your tongue over them. and his hand around your throat, like he’s staking a claim over you. that you’re his and only his.

to him, you’ve never looked more perfect. and he doesn’t think he can wait any longer.

anakin starts undressing you with urgency. as though if he waits so much as another second, you’ll vanish into thin air and he’ll never get to have you like this again. you follow suit, shoving his robe off his shoulders and pushing him closer to the direction of your bed.

“this is wrong,” you squeak out as more and more of your clothes get thrown about the room. anakin’s top half is completely bare, his skin burning hot.

“so wrong,” he teases with faux concern, flashing his canines as he yanks your pants down. in a less than graceful stumble you kick them off, leaving you in nothing but a simple pair of underwear. suddenly you begin to feel self conscious under his gaze, but it fades when you realize his blue eyes were nearly black.

drinking in every inch of you with a look like he was going to devour you whole.

he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. and it made you long for him even more.

in a bold move, you push at his chest, watching gleefully as he falls back against the mattress. the new angle highlights his growing erection. your mouth waters at how big he looks despite the layer of fabric that still stands between you. anakin, ever the cocky observer, watches as your eyes widen and your chest heaves.

“if you want it,” he spreads his legs wider, a dangerously divine invitation. “then you’ve gotta come and get it.”

you heart stutters in your ribcage.

this was it.

the defining moment where your self control was put to the test.

an act that was so simple, yet so complicated.

when you suck in a breath and experimentally place your knees on either side of his hips, it dials up the heat. every inch of your exposed skin feels like it’s set ablaze. an almost delicious pain that slowly melts into pleasure.

when you reach below the waistband and wrap your hand around him, there’s an overwhelming sense of adrenaline. an exciting rush that you haven’t felt in what feels like a lifetime. the low whimper he elicits sends a shiver down your spine, feeling like a drug you want to take over, and over, and over again.

when you push your panties to the side and finally sink down onto his length, it feels like diving headfirst off a cliff with no end in sight. falling into an endless chasm of self reflection, realization, and ecstasy. your stomach does somersaults as you take him inch by inch, soft, breathy moans leaving your mouth the deeper he gets.

“that’s it,” he coos, brushing a stray piece of hair out your face. “i know you can take it.”

his praise makes any remaining anxiety dissipate.

you wonder if you should be disappointed in yourself at how quickly you caved. but in that very moment, as you begin to rock your hips back and forth, you realize that maybe you were wrong to be so obedient all this time.

because if this was wrong? then you sure as hell didn’t wanna be right.

thanks for reading! <3

#retrosabers #sid writes shit #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker #star wars #hayden christiansen

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7ndipity · 6 months ago

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Every Little Thing Pt.2

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You want to keep your relationship quiet for a lil bit following Yoongi’s confession, but subtlety is not quite his thing.(aka, bf Yoongi’s a lil bit of a clingy brat, but we love it). Part 1

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, swearing, reader is referred to as Yoongi’s girlfriend like once, not proofread

A/N: Finally a part 2! This has been sitting in my drafts for far too long, but I hope you guys like it!

Masterlist

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The first thing you became aware of as you woke was the distinct weight of another body pressing on your chest. Cracking your eyes open slowly, you were greeted by the sight of Yoongi half on top of you, sound asleep, small puffs of breath brushing warmly over your skin.

Flickers of the night before flash through your mind as you watch him sleep, a grin of disbelief spreading across your face.

Yoongi showing up at your door, his confession, the feeling of his lips on yours, it all felt like a dream, yet the proof of its reality was right in front of you, snoring lightly.

You stretched slowly, a task made doubly difficult by the fact that still on your couch, you and Yoongi having not made it further through the house before collapsing together.

You hadn’t done much more than kissing, due to Yoongi, god bless him(despite you wanting to strangle him in the moment), wanting to talk everything out and make sure that you were both on the same page about how you felt towards each other.

It had been nearly morning by the time you had fallen asleep, you didn’t know what time it was now, stretching to reach for you phone on the coffee table, causing a low whine to emit from the sleeping form on your chest, tired arms wrapping tightly around your waist to hold you down, preventing you from moving further.

“Don’t, ‘m comfy.” Yoongi grumbled.

“I’m just trying to check the time.” You chuckled.

“Time is a capitalistic social construct.” He groaned, rubbing his face against the material of your shirt. “It’s too early to be moving, that’s all you need to know.”

You laughed again, the vibrations in your chest finally drawing him into full consciousness.

He lifted his head enough to meet your eyes, propping his chin on your chest. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You grinned.

There’s something singularly unique about experiencing something for the first time, an exciting uncertainty like the pause just before the drop on a rollercoaster. That’s what it felt as you stared at Yoongi, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as he shifted enough to connect his mouth with yours.

You let out a contented sigh, parting your lips just enough for him to take advantage of, slipping his tongue inside with a fervor, his mouth hot and insistent against yours.

He let one hand drop to your waist, slipping beneath the thin fabric of your sleep top, the other settling at the base of your neck, anchoring you to him as he pressed your hips down into the cushions with his own.

By the time you came up for air, the atmosphere around the two of you had shifted considerably, any traces of your earlier drowsiness long gone.

You were fully underneath him now, his hands positioned on either side of your head, his eyes holding the same dark craving that they had last night, his mouth swollen and red from your continued assaults on it.

You reached up slowly, tucking a messy strand of hair behind his ear, taking in the way the midday light gave his skin a soft, golden hue. He was truly so beautiful.

His soft laughter brushed over your face like a morning breeze.

“What’s that look for?” He asked, taking in your dreamy expression.

“I-” Before you could form a proper response, the moment was shattered by the ping of your phone.

You sat up slowly, Yoongi managing shift so that he was still wrapped around you as you did so.

Glancing down at the screen, you tapped on a new message from Jimin.

What time should I pick you up tomorrow?

Tomorrow? With everything that had happened last night, you had almost forgotten that you had asked Jimin to help you go furniture shopping.

Sorry Chim, smth came up and I can’t go tomor-

“Why can’t you go?” Yoongi asked, peering at the screen over your shoulder.

You looked up at him quizzically. “I thought you didn’t like me going with him?”

“I didn’t like it because you were ignoring me, I don’t have any issues with you hanging out with Jimin.” He shrugged. “I’ll even go with you.”

You blinked at him. “What, as like a couple?”

“Maybe, is that too soon?” He tilted his head at you.

“I don’t know...” You bit your lip. So much had changed in the past twelve hours. Last night, you were afraid that you were losing one of your best friends, now he was more or less asking you on a date? Did this even count as a date? You weren’t sure. What about Jimin? Would this make him feel uncomfortable? The three of you had hung out together before, but now-

“We don’t have to say anything yet if you don’t want to.” He offered, as if sensing your spiraling train of thought. “I’ll just tag along in case you guys need help with anything. Plus, my car has more room.”

His words helped calm your mind. You nodded. “Okay.”

He grinned, leaning in to press kisses to your face as you tried to type out a quick reply to Jimin.

Slight change of plans-

“So you guys are done fighting?” Jimin asked as he climbed into the back seat the next day.

“We weren’t fighting.” You replied, shooting him a look.

“Sure seemed like it.” He muttered under his breath.

“We weren’t fighting-”

“But if we were, we’re done now.” Yoongi said, shooting you a smirk.

You slumped back in your seat with an annoyed huff.

“Yeah, okay.” Jimin snickered. “So what are we looking for today, Y/n?”

The drive passed rather comfortably, Yoongi leaving you and Jimin to do majority of the talking for the most part, smiling to himself as the two of you argued over differences in interior design preferences and color palettes.

Things felt pretty much back to normal, until he noticed you shiver slightly out the corner of his eye as he was parking.

”Are you cold?” He asked, glancing over at you with a frown.

“I just forgot my jacket, it’s fine.” You said dismissively, getting out of the car, but Yoongi was having none of it.

“Nope.” He quickly rounded the car to you, shrugging off his jacket and holding it out for you to put on. “Here.”

“I’m fine.” You argued.

“I don’t want you to be cold, put it on.” He insisted.

“But what about you?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it, just put the jacket on.”

“Yoongi-”

“Please?” His eyes softened as he looked at you, making your stomach do a tiny somersault.

Damn him, he knew exactly what he was doing, that was the same look he gave you whenever he wanted his way, the same look he’d given you to keep you cuddled up with him till almost 3 in the afternoon the day before.

“Fine.” You sighed, slipping your arms into the sleeves, letting the slightly oversized article envelope you.

You turned back to face him. “Happy?”

“Yes.” He said with another pointed smirk.

Jimin, who stood behind the two of you, watching the whole bizarre exchange with a baffled expression, cleared his throat.

“Soo, are we ready to go?” He asked, pulling you both back to attention.

When Yoongi had said you didn’t have to say anything about your relationship yet, you had thought that also meant that Yoongi was going to act the same as he normally did.

You soon found out that that wasn’t the case.

He wasn’t overly obvious about wanting to be closer to you than usual, but he wasn’t exactly subtle about it either. Brushing your hair out your face for you, grabbing your wrist to draw your attention to certain items and then “forgetting” to let go, and generally just sticking to your side as much as possible.

It wasn’t like he was trying to make you uncomfortable or anything, but after the past week of you ignoring him, he wanted to tease you just a little bit. He knew how easily flustered you were, and was taking a great deal of enjoyment out of trying to raise the color in your cheeks.

While you were mainly choosing to ignore his ‘odd’ behavior, Jimin was absolutely stunned.

“Okay, what the fuck is up with you and Y/n?!” He hissed as soon as you were out of earshot.

“Don’t worry about it” Yoongi said simply, finding the lamp display in front of them much more interesting.

“Don’t worry abou-?!” Jimin stared at him in disbelief, wanting to press further, but seeing you approaching, he let it drop for the moment.

The way Yoongi’s expression brightened as you rejoined the group however, told Jimin far more than he knew his hyung ever would.

It wasn’t until later that evening as you were helping him unload a few things he picked out that he spoke about it again.

“So, when you and Yoongi get married, can I be your best man?” He asked, only half teasing.

“Goodnight, Jimin.” You said, ignoring his question.

“G’night.” He grinned, hugging you.

“I’m really happy for you.” He mumbled into your shoulder, causing your eyes to prick with tears as the sudden wave of emotions hit you.

“Thank you, Chim.” You whispered, squeezing him tighter.

When you finally separated, you could see his eyes were shining similarly to your own.

“If he ever hurts you, I’m gonna kick his ass, just so you know.” He cautioned.

You let out a wet laugh.

“Good to know.” You nodded. “Night, Chim.”

“Goodnight.”

When you got back to the car, Yoongi was smiling knowingly at you.

“Did you have a nice time today?” He asked pleasantly.

“Mhm, my boyfriend was being kinda weird though.” You said, settling into the passenger seat. “Kinda clingy.”

“Maybe that’s just because you’re not familiar with boyfriend Yoongi.” He said. “We’ll have to give you a crash course on it.”

“I look forward to it.” You said with a grin. “So then, what does boyfriend Yoongi do when his girlfriend is tired and hungry?”

“Typically, buys her favorite dinner and makes her go to bed at a reasonable hour.”

“Sounds good, except for that last part.” You replied, stifling a yawn.

“Would it sound better if I told you that it also includes said boyfriend staying over and cuddling?” He offered.

“Yes, it would.” You grinned.

“Then it’s settled.” He started the car.

“Jimin said he’ll kick your ass if you ever hurt me, by the way.”

“I don’t plan on ever giving him a reason to do that.” He replied, resting a hand on your thigh as he drove, making you smile.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0o0o0ooo @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi scenarios #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #bts scenarios #bts reaction #bts reactions #bts drabble #bts fluff #7ndipity

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sunboki · 20 days ago

Text

— HELLION INN. (TEASER) a Stray Kids fiction

🌖 : Lee Minho x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. dystopian! au, enemies to lovers, monster! au, apocalypse! au, “we have to get along to survive” au, angst, high stakes

WORD COUNT. estimated to be around 5k - 10k words

WARNINGS. gory descriptions, cursing, descriptive violence, implied intercourse, death, murder, usage of guns, injury, knives, reader and minho are “hunted”, mature themes

AUG'S NOTES. hi everyone! say hello to my long-rotting draft, turned fic! i tried something a little spooky for the october season, hopefully it’s to your satisfaction! i’m really looking forward to finishing this piece :)

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Receiving an ominous letter in the mail, a monster invades Seoul minutes later, carrying an uncanny sense of smell despite its blindness. Countless people have been slaughtered already, and with your letter as the only meager explanation to this madness, you find your feet leading towards the one place it said was safe: Hellion Inn.

or alternatively :

Minho won’t let you die. Not if it means letting this Monster get him or hell’s dawning itself. You’re going to survive. Together.

Run, something is coming. Go to Hellion Inn, you’ll be safe there.

Something? What is something? A terrorist attack? War?

Never had such a letter arrived at your doorstep other than this Tuesday, with the morning sunlight peeking through half-opened blinds casting your pajama-clad frame in its cascades.

And again, you reread and reread, questions raging in a distorted frenzy amidst your once just-wakening mind.

Little were you aware what would come. What already roamed Seoul’s streets, approaching closer, closer.

One objective resides in too many possibilities.

Find Hellion Inn.

Stuffing the letter in your pocket serves as the most sensible solution while you go over your options. If you didn’t have a clue about what dishes would be cooked, you’d check the ingredients first.

And yet, upon turning on the TV, you find your meal already served.

On a platter, dripping with blood.

“This just in, an unidentifiable entity is making its way through Seoul in a rampage. The creature is highly dangerous. It appears to lack vision, and speculation has deemed it relies upon its smell to discern other beings. The creature has not been detained at this time. Under no circumstances should citizens leave their residences, and in the case you’re on the street, please evacuate to the nearest shelter immediately. Further information will be released.”

Your blood runs frigidly cold, enough you swear you could’ve turned to ice.

All of a sudden, war or a terrorist attack doesn’t sound nearly as daunting as before.

A monster. Ruthless, bloodthirsty.

Monster.

Instantaneously are news sites everywhere exploding, posting footage, pictures, and accounts of the creature each second.

More and more and more until-

It all goes dark, your home plunged into a black abyss meagerly sustained by the sun’s rays, phone in hand ultimately powering off.

Electricity down. Fully.

This isn’t like a usual predicament of a public threat, not something you’re prepared for, nor something anyone was prepared for. There’s no drill for a monster, no tsunami shelter or high rise building to reside upon.

Was it obliviousness? Or were you all simply sheep to a ravaging wolf?

The latter seemed most convincing.

An exhale. No, a growl is what breaks your train of thought. Like the chuff of a tiger, curdling in its throat.

Above.

You can’t even bring yourself to move, can’t bear to breathe in fear you’d give yourself away as a shadow covers that once hopeful sunlight.

No shadow, but a thing. A monster.

How did it get here so fast? How.. how the hell is this happening?

The sound of tiles shifting on your roof makes your fingers twitch, eyes stuck wide.

The worlds apex predators turned into the prey.

Each pound of your heart lies evident in ringing ears, listening to those low, horrendous gurgles, repeating that same chuff before it shifts again.

Again and again, and you’re unmoving.

Leave. Run. Anything.

Yet, you can’t move a muscle, glued in place.

Until you do, and your legs act before you can process a thing. Grabbing for items, whatever it may be. Mind unable to process in its frantic state.

No. No.

A plea as your hand wraps around the doorknob, beginning down the apartment complex’s stairs in rapid descent, listening to the slow growls of the creature.

Don’t look behind, just go.

A mistake you find yourself making even when a life is on the line.

Your life is on the line.

And when you spare that single glimpse, murky lifeless eyes stare blindly back at you, bulging from its skull as if they never were intended to be there. Skin a hallowed, fleshy tone — ligaments hung awry.

Disorderly, distasteful. If you look close enough, you swear you could’ve seen a beating heart, watched the oxygen cells rush through a pumping bloodstream.

Gaping jaws hold copious teeth, ant-like incisors residing on either side of a ceaselessly smiling mouth, the corners of what appears to be lips ascending all the way up to nonexistent ears.

Four legs, two antennae atop its head. At least two times the size of a human.

Horrific.

Never had such a thing appeared so terrifying.

With the letter clutched in one hand and your powerless phone in another do you run, praying that nonexistent vision truly is nonexistent.

Well, until a car alarm begins to ring, and you feel your stomach climb to your throat simultaneously.

Because it twitches. Not even a glance-sort of reaction. The entirety of whatever neck that monster hones twitches to look at you with a nausea-worthy crack! of its ligaments. Those jaws parted, a flattened nose breathing in.

And then it lurches, and you don’t think you’ve ever ran as fast as you did now.

Far, far. As far as you can go.

It’s futile listening to gargled cries for help amongst rubble, the reaching of hands for your feet you can’t even spare a moment for as those scraping claws continue their perilous dance after you, scavenging on people as they go.

So the second an intact person comes into view—a boy, looking about your age (and freakishly calm at that) with fluffy hair and rounded cheeks retaining such youth—you’re racing ahead before you can even think, ramming through those convenience store doors in a flurry of panic and fear.

“Monster— Monster- there’s a monster we have to go-“

“Do you like grilled cheese?” He mumbles, and you wonder if he’s talking to himself or you, no less asking such a question during this downright apocalypse.

“No, no there is—“ A shriek pierces the air in the distance, the clutter of debris alerting the monster’s proximity.

You, in a frantic attempt to redirect his attention, place either hand on his shoulders.

“A monster. There’s a monster out there and if we don’t hide, it’s going to kill us.”

The boy licks his lips, cocking a contemplative brow before looking toward the freezer section.

“Freezer?”

At this point the creature might as well be turning the corner, and you don’t need to respond for either of you to go running as fast as your legs will carry you, stuffing yourselves into the biting cold just as the bells above the entrance door ring.

Scariest part is this customer is intelligent enough to open doors.

This customer isn’t human.

Like slow-motion you hear it. The pounding of your heartbeat in your ears, the lack of air in such a tight space, the monster’s rumbling.

Your hidden counterpart lodged himself into a freezer opposite to you, eyes squeezed shut the nearer clicking footsteps on tile sounded.

Click.

You don’t realize your eyes are closed until you open them, met with the monster’s face, hundreds of razor-sharp teeth lining its mouth, stretched into that same, chilling smile while it stares at you through the glass.

It can’t see you. It can’t see you. It can’t see you, You internally plead like a mantra, suffocating on the scream rising in your throat.

The loud clanging of a soup can the boy throws has the creature’s disfigured face whipping around, and you wordlessly communicate through mere terrified-eye-contact what either of you are thinking:

Run.

Without conscious you go flying, ramming past discarded groceries and tormented bodies into Seoul’s open roadway, void of any vehicle whatsoever.

Except for one.

It’s a tow truck, key still lodged into the ignition, window broken with streaks of blood lining the door where a middle-aged man’s body had been dragged out. He rests lopsided below the front tire, abdomen severed in half.

Grotesque.

“Car- Car!” You cry out, wildly gesturing for him to follow suit while you pry the driver’s door open, the monster’s frustrated growl enough motivation for the stranger to throw himself in as well.

In the nick of time you press down on the pedal, winding the wheel in a quick motion just as the hell-sent smashes itself from the shop, evidently angered.

“I’m Han!” The man occupying the passenger seat shouts, the hole through the windshield causing enormous amounts of wind to soar through the car and synonymously blur your senses.

“What?!”

“My name is Han! Han Jisung!”

Squinting whilst looking through your mirror at the wickedly approaching Monster, you veer past as many obstacles as possible — most being corpses — as fast as the engine will let you.

“Oh! Uh, I’m Y/N!”

Han nods, grasp clutched onto his seat the more you speed increases, recklessly maneuvering left and right as if dodging a crocodile.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t a crocodile, but a blood-thirsty beast wanting nothing more than to behead you. How sweet.

“Do you… Do you know how to drive?” He yells, and you raise your eyebrows, narrowly shifting past a shopping cart.

“If you count Mario-Kart as driving, I’m a pro!”

Han audibly squeaks his fear in response, eyes squeezing shut as if to not stare at the monster’s face nearing the mirror.

The speedometer cries out, vehicle shuddering as you near train tracks just at the edge of the city.

Hopeful.

Fleeting hope when the roar of a train’s whistle soars through the air, the look Han gives you doing little to sustain your already thinned sanity.

Perhaps you’ll die getting hit by a train than this monster.

Perhaps it’s better that way.

“We’re not gonna make it we’re not gonna make it we’re not gonna make i—“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP—-“ You screech, foot slammed as far down on the gas pedal as possible, the rumbling of the train’s engine deafening.

“HOLY SHITTTT—“ The man screams, mouth ajar as you soar over the tracks, preparing for impact only for a hair of the train’s front barely brushing over the car’s bumper.

Currently realizing you’re still breathing and not dead, you floor the brake, either of you launching forward in your seats while the endless train keeps the monster at bay on the opposite side.

Both panting hysterically, you place a hand on your chest, hoping to slow down the terrifyingly fast pace of your heart — close to bursting out of your chest.

Your passenger, Han Jisung, turns to look at you, eyes wide as saucers, a gradual open-mouthed smile growing upon his flushed, sweat-stricken face.

“That was.. sick.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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lowkeyerror · 7 months ago

Text

The Family Business Ch. 9

WandaNat x Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Ch.Notes: emotional turmoil, jealousy

Summary: After last night's events things only grow more complicated between Wanda, Natasha, and the reader.

An: So... I have blown through all of the pre-drafted parts I have for this and am now writing in real time the goal is to do post every monday but bare with me if I slip up.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

The smell of coffee is the first thing to enter your sense as you stir from your place in the bed. You can't move much as your legs are tangled with someone else’s. You can feel soft breaths tickling your face. Your brow creases, but you make no other movements.

There’s a slight shift in the bed, and that's when you begin to feel a finger dragging itself along your collarbone. It’s gentle as it draws patterns lightly tracing up your neck and jaw. A thumb ghosts over your lips, but you stay still.

“Even after this life has been so cruel to you, and you've grown this hard outer shell; your skin feels so soft. So pretty under my touch.”

You are fully awake, but something stops you from opening your eyes. Instead you scoot closer to the woman and pull her body closer to yours. Your arm flexes as you hold her in place.

“Enjoying the cuddling?” Natasha’s voice enters the room.

“She’s so peaceful like this, I don’t want to wake her,” Wanda shifts in your hold.

She maneuvers so that she's sitting up right in the bed. Your head falls into her lap, and her hands start running through your hair.

“We have to, I’ve heard from Pietro that people are already being made aware of the oil spill. They’re scrambling, he’s already at the office with Kate taking orders.”

You hear Wanda sigh, “This is nice, it almost feels domestic.”

Natasha laughs lightly, “Yes, having your wife bring you and your lover coffee, screams domestic.”

“She’s not my lover, Natasha,” Wanda’s voice sounds harsh.

It takes everything to keep your body from tensing as you listen into this conversation you aren't directly involved in.

“It’s a joke baby,” you can almost hear the smirk on the woman’s face.

“Jokes are supposed to be funny Natasha,” she deadpans.

“I agree there's nothing funny about you being in love with Y/n.”

You hear shuffling and then a quick thud as Wanda throws something at Natasha. By her exasperated sigh you can tell Natasha caught it.

“Can we save this discussion for… I don’t know, when Y/n isn’t laying in my lap,” Wanda says defensively.

“Fine, but the last thing I’m going to say is your taste in women is 10 out of 10,” Natasha chuckles.

“Fuck you,” Wanda can’t help but laugh as her wife exits the room.

Wanda refocus her attention back to you, “We have a big day ahead of us little krolik and unfortunately it starts now.”

She shakes you gently and calls your name a few times. You pretend to wake up. The sight of Wanda in the morning is something entirely ethereal. You can’t help but stare at the woman. Especially after what you heard this morning.

Your intense gaze makes the woman shift and clear her throat, “Natasha made coffee for us.”

You laugh a little, your voice groggy from sleep, “Sounds like a good thing to wake up too.”

“It can’t hurt, we have a busy day ahead of us,” she says getting out of the bed.

“Your bed is like 10 times more comfortable than mine,” you sink further into the mattress.

Natasha enters the room, “Glad to hear you slept well.”

There’s something grateful about the look you give the spy, “Thank you for that. Both of you.”

“The door is always open for you lisichka,” Natasha smiles warmly back.

With much reluctance you get out of the bed. Your feet shuffle across the bedroom floor and you scratch your head, suddenly becoming more aware of the fact that you aren’t in your home.

“I guess I should go get ready at my place,” you say stretching.

“We’ll meet you over there and head to work together, ok?”

You agree to these terms and make your way home. When you get there the composure that you usually carry yourself with slips.

The brief conversation that played out between the married couple echoed in the walls of your mind. It was a joke, that’s what Natasha said in the beginning. However after claiming Wanda was in love with you, it didn't sound like a joke anymore.

Wanda is a married woman. You know this and you’d feel confident in saying that the marriage is a happy one. Natasha is good for her, better than you could ever be. Wanda being in love with you wouldn’t make sense.

As you get ready for work it’s nearly all you can think about. Every moment where you hugged each other for too long, where her hand would find it’s way in yours, where the two of refused to break eye contact was now floating in your head.

It was hard not to romanticize it, you had feelings for Wanda since you were a teenager, and now you are being told she feels the same.

It's a heavy feeling that sits in your stomach. Every part of your being wishes it could be joy, but it’s sorrow and dread. The other accompanying thought with this revelation is, Natasha.

The woman was amazing in her own right. She deserves the same love, attention, and kindness that Wanda does. You refuse to be a home wrecker. Their love it’s organic, it’s feels true. It was enough for Wanda to bring home a wife, knowing her family wouldn’t approve. There wasn’t a reality where you’d let her throw that away.

Your thoughts don’t get to consume you any longer when the doorbell rings. You put on a face of determination as you leave your home with Wanda and Natasha.

Once you’re at the office everything seems more hectic than usual. The three of you are all whisked away in different directions, answering to the influx of calls.

The sheer volume of people you have on your line, startles you a bit as initially you thought this would be enhance the unlawful business practices, but it has also benefited the business used as a front.

This might’ve been a million dollar move. However, it truly wasn’t about the money. The supply for the family was endless. It was to regain control of the city and to assure them whether Dragos was in charge or not the Maximoff’s would be running this city.

The victory is bittersweet as thoughts of Dragos invade your mind. He should be here celebrating with you all yet he lay still in a hospital bed, using machines you couldn’t name to help him breathe. With Flora likely sitting there with him, tremendous sorrow on her shoulders and the wish that he would wake up so she could scold him.

There were bigger things to worry about aside from what you had heard this morning. The health of your father figure, the health of the business, preparing for a war, there was no room for your feelings right now and you accepted it.

“Alright, it’s time for you to go on break,” Kate knocks on your office door before allowing herself in.

“Too busy,” you mumble typing away at your computer.

“I brought you lunch, meaning you have to atop working to eat it,” Kate plops down a bag on your desk.

The smell fills your nose, making your mouth water and stomach growl. You sigh moving your keyboard out of the way to open the bag of food.

“Thanks Katie,” you say before munching on a french-fry.

“No problem, how are you holding up?”

You stretch a bit, “It’s been nonstop in both businesses. I’ve got to be careful not to mix them up as I write the orders. I’m a bit stressed, but I think this is a good stress.”

“And outside of work?”

Your face drops, “I’m barely holding on to be honest. Constantly worried about Dragos, but not just him; Flora, Wanda, Pietro, all of them. I feel so helpless, I haven’t felt this way since I was a child.”

“Y/n-”

“I feel like I’m failing, Kate. We’re fighting against a war, but it’s inevitable at this point. There’s no way Kingpin is going to take this lying down. We can’t afford to lose, but I don’t think any of us are prepared to fight.”

Kate takes your hand in hers causing you to gaze into her eyes. There’s a fire there, one that you forgotten lived inside the assistant.

“Y/n, whatever happens this family will not fall. Others might have alliances, weapons, and political power, but what every single one of them lacks is loyalty. We have people on the outside switch sides, but everyone in this building is here for the long haul. We stand by each other no matter how hard it gets. Maybe you’re right, we’re not prepared for a war right now, but we will be. You aren’t alone in this Y/n, you have a family… thee family backing you.”

She’s right and you know it. It’s a hard a reality to swallow in the sense that with or with Dragos the Maximoff’s don’t have a choice but to win. They will win, but what will be lost on the way to victory. The longer you’re in the position you understand what they mean when they say heavy is the head that wears the crown.

“Something else is bothering you. I can tell,” Kate’s voice is soft when she speaks, snapping you from your thoughts.

You can feel the tip of your ears heat at her question, but you try to play it safe, “It isn’t important and I don’t think it will ever be. We have bigger things to worry about.”

Kate rolls her eyes at you, “You’re right about having bigger things to worry about. Things that you are clearly being distracted from by what’s on your mind. So as your best friend it’s my job to sit here and press you for answers until you tell me.”

It's your turn to roll your eyes, “Can we just drop this, my food is getting cold?”

“There’s a microwave somewhere in this building,” Kate took a seat at the edge of your desk, her hand still in yours.

“You aren't going to let this go are you?”

She shakes her head a little, “Nope.”

You take your free hand and place it over your face, “I heard Natasha say that Wanda is in love with me.”

“Oh my god. Y/n that’s- what’re you going to do?”

“Nothing, I’m not going to do anything.”

Kate’s eyes widen, “Why would she say that? Did she sound mad? How did you hear this? What if she is in love with you? How would you-”

“Enough!” You raise you voice at the girl and she stops.

“Sorry, but this is crazy.”

You sigh, “I know.”

“Do you love her?”

Your eye hit the floor immediately, “I’ve had a crush on Wanda for as long as I can remember. She’s seen me at my lowest, but found value in me nonetheless. Even after all these years she just makes me feel safe and I would do anything for her.”

“But…”

“But she's married to one of the most intriguing women that I've ever met. Someone I know who feels like I do. Someone who takes good care of her and can be there for her in ways that I can’t. They’re the perfect couple. They both truly deserve each other and I refuse to put myself between them.”

It is fully intended to sound strong, but by the end of it you can feel your eyes start to water. You do your best to hold it in but tears start to fall.

“Fuck,” you attempt to cover your face but Kate just pulls you to her by your office chair.

Her hands rests on your face wiping at the tears. You lean into her touch as she begins to rub your back.

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” Kate speak gently.

There’s a soft knock on your office door that gets you to straighten up. The walls are glass so you’re aware that they could see what was transpiring.

“Is everything ok in here?” Natasha let’s herself in, knowing the answer to her question.

You look to Kate, who then looks to Natasha, “Do you want to take over?”

Natasha gives a curt nod. You watch Kate walk out of the office closing the curtains on the way out so no one could see inside. She tells you to call her at the end of your day and you make a mental note to do so.

“Lisichka, talk to me,” she takes Kates previous position. She reaches to wipe the tears from your eyes, but you flinch away.

“I’m fine,” your voice dies as you speak.

“I think we both know that’s not true.”

You glare at her, but then your eyes soften, “I’m just overwhelmed Nat.”

“Maybe it's your turn to go home early n" she suggest.

“I have to stop by the hospital before I go home.”

Natasha hesitates, “I don't think you're in the right space to be there.”

“Someone has to go check on Flora and Dragos,” you stand firm.

“Wanda and I will go,” Natasha says.

You debate for a second on telling Natasha what you heard. You wonder how she would react. However you could never do that to her , not like when she’s looking at you like this. This is the second time in 24 hours that Natasha has been there for you in a time of need.

“Lisichka?”

“I- I’ll see if Kate can take me home,” you abruptly stand from your desk.

You don’t get far before Natasha is wrapping you up in her arms. You melt in her hold, she smells good, her arms are strong. She kisses the top of your head.

“Let me know when you’re home safe, ok? We’ve got everything under control here.”

You nod before heading off in the direction of Kate’s office. When you get to her door she’s on call and you debate leaving, but when she sees you she ends the call.

“Y/n-"

“Can you take me home, please. I know I could ask Clint, but I just-”

Kate cuts you off, “Of course, let’s go.”

You stay close to Kate as you leave the office. Unbeknownst to you, Wanda watches the two of you exit. She heads to your office to find her wife in your chair.

“What happened to Y/n?”

Natasha sighs, “I don't know she wouldn't tell me. I saw Kate sitting on the desk and wiping her tears away so I stepped in. She said she was overwhelmed, but there had to be more to it. I told her to go home.”

“I just saw her leaving with Kate,” Wanda adds.

“She said she’d ask Kate to take her,” Natasha explains.

“I could've taken her,” Wanda says with worry in her voice.

Natasha shakes her head, “You have a business to run and I promised Y/n we’d stop by the hospital after work.”

“I wish she would’ve seen me before she left,” Wanda’s upset, but she contains it well.

“Jealous of Kate?” Natasha tries to tease, but there’s something in her tone that Wanda detects.

“Are you jealous of Kate?” Wanda throws the question back at her wife.

Natasha gaze lingers on her hands, “What if I was?”

Wanda carefully straddles Natasha’ lap in the work chair. She buries her head into the crook of Natasha’s neck before mumbling into the soft skin.

“Then we’d both be jealous.”

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #kate bishop

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letstalkaboutshtufff · 8 months ago

Text

In another life

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Summary: Reader is transported to another dimension where nobody knows her.

Warnings: Language, mentions of blood and minor injury.

Hope you guys enjoy, I actually found this deep in my drafts and said what the hell and posted.

Next Part

It was just another typical day where Gojo and his students were walking to the destination of their next mission.

"Why do curses have to cause trouble on hot days, ugh what a pain" Nobara groaned shielding her eyes from the scorching sun.

"I told you to bring a hat" Yuji pointed out, somehow unbothered by the tortuous weather.

"But hats are so tacky!"

"Then don't complain" Megumi sighed annoyed as usual.

"Don't worry, we can get some nice cold ice cream after we exorcise the curse, in fact I know the best spot! It's a little hole in the wall place but they have the best- huh?"

Gojo suddenly whipped around at the sudden burst of curse energy he sensed.

"What the hell is that?!" Yuji shouted as he stared at a hole crackling in the sky getting bigger and bigger.

"Not sure, but I don't like what I'm sensing. Everyone be ready..”

"Right" they all tensed and got into attack positions.

What they didn't except though was to see a head pop out of the warp, followed by a body. A woman seemingly limp, began to plummet from the warp. Which promptly closed the second she had left.

"What the hell?" Nobara squinted trying to figure out if the figure looked dangerous.

Gojo didn't feel any malicious energy anymore now that the warp had vanished so he sprung into action and caught the woman before she became a pile of mush on the ground.

"Sensei what if shes dangerous?" Yuji frowned.

"Hm" he kneeled down still holding the woman. He eyed down her figure. She had some scratches and a few bruises but other than that she seemed ok...

So what was a human doing falling through a warp in the sky.

"I don't believe shes a threat, not that I can sense anyway..."

"The energy from that warp felt seriously freaky" Nobara shivered.

Gojo was about to respond when a glint made him freeze. His brows furrowed when he grabbed the girls hand and brought it closer to his face. Now that was definitely peculiar…

"Mm" the group suddenly all jerked to the form now rousing in Gojos arms.

The womans eyes began to open slowly. It took them a moment to adjust to the light but then when they were fully open they suddenly became full of life.

"Eh?! What happened??" Her eyes widened as she looked around, becoming aware of her surroundings. "T-toru!!" No one was more shocked than Gojo as the woman launched her arms around their teacher as if her life depended on it.

"Are you alright? He didn't hurt you did he? Ah Of course he didn’t what am I saying…?! I-I'm sorry you had to come save me again, I don't know how he even snuck up on me!" the woman pulled back only a bit to face him, but still held on. "I promise you can train me as hard as you want from now on and I won't complain anymore"

(From now on you are the woman)

You paused noticing his bewildered expression. "What Is it Toru?"

"Um… not to sound rude or anything but….who are you?”

Your face twitched in shock, "Um Toru, now really isn't the time for jokes you know" you pouted slightly.

It was when he took your arms off of him that you felt something was majorly off.

"I assure you I'm not joking" he gently pushed you off and you shakily got to your feet and so did he.

"I don't...I don't understand...Toru, what do you mean you don't know me?" You tried to quell the panic that was rising. Surely he was just playing a prank right?? Right?!?

"You know who I am it seems…" he stated, eying you curiously.

"Know who you- Satoru Gojo if this is a joke you better stop it right now or I swear I'm going to eat all the kikifuku you brought back yesterday! It's not nice to confuse me after being so close to death you know!!"

He only quirked a brow at this, "Listen lady, you just fell from a hole in the sky, If anyones confused its us..."

This caught your attention, "Wait…What did you say?"

"He's right, you fell from this big hole in the sky miss. It closed right away after you came through". Your eyes drew to the new voice and you realized the others were here too.

"Yuji..." his eyes widened and he pointed to himself, "You know me?"

You felt your panic rise more, "Of course I know you! All of you, Megumi, Nobara you're all like family to me, why don't you know who I-" you froze. A cold fear overtaking you. The hole. His technique. You got caught up in it. You weren't saved. Satoru hadn't made it in time.

"I t-think, I u-um" you felt your breathing begin to quicken and forming words seemed impossible.

"I t-think I got t-t-transported by the curse I was f-fighting" you felt your whole body shaking and tried to control your breathing.

"Hey calm down, we'll figure things out soon enough" you stepped back abruptly knowing what that tone and outstretched hand meant.

"D-don't knock me out, you promised you wouldn't do it anymore.." although you supposed that this Gojo had no idea.

He seemed troubled at what to do but sighed a moment later.

"For now why don't we just head back to the school..." you reguarded him for a moment then hesitantly shook your head.

"Alright..." you silently followed everyone, feeling more nervous with every silent step.

The quiet was maddening and you were grateful that Yuji spoke up finally,probably becoming aware of your borderline panic attack "Don't worry, weird things are always happening here. We'll figure whatever this is out ok?" You managed to crack a little tired smile.

"Yeah".

*************************************************

Of the many times you had been sat across Yaga, this was the first time you were ever intimidated.

"Start from the beginning" was all he said as you fidgeted in discomfort. Gojo stood beside Yaga, leaning back on the wall, while Yaga sat imposing as if he was dealing with a curse.

You took a deep breathe and recalled what had happened just before all this madness.

"Well I was just leaving my house to go to the school... I recieved a message saying I needed to report there immediately and I didn't hesitate, thinking maybe something bad had happened...but on the way I was attacked by a curse. I'm not really much of a fighter but I am a little skilled at barriars, so I was able to shield myself against his attacks. The curse became frustrated when he realized he couldn't land a major hit and before I knew it he had sent a huge blast in my direction. I shielded but it didn't matter, I remember feeling really hot and then the next thing I knew I was waking up in Satoru’s arms..."

You peeked at Yaga and saw he was deep in thought. Finally after painful silence he finally spoke, "This curse you fought, what did it look like?"

"He looked kinda like that tree curse thing that the kids fought back at the exchange event, except his presence was..." it was then something struck you. You recall feeling something was off the entire fight. Something oddly familiar and it had just hit you what that was. The smell the energy the odd aura.

"Wait…” both men perked up at this.

"What is it?"

"That's why he felt so familiar!" you said more to yourself in your horror.

"Who are you talking about?"

"The curse...he felt familiar because I've sensed that same presence before..."

They waited for you to continue, "Back when Toru and Megumi first recovered that cursed object...and had me place an extra seal on it...but Toru never mentioned it was stolen? Why didn't he say anything...unless it wasn't stolen but then how did he get unseal- shit"

You ran a hand over your face, "You were right about the spy after all Toru..."

"How can you know all this- the exchange event, who we are, private information if we don't even know who you are?” Yaga eyed you suspiciously.

"I think I can answer that" all eyes snapped to Gojo.

"You mentioned a curse being unsealed, one that megumi and I brought in correct?"

You nodded

"Its a just a theory but I have a hunch I'm correct, tell me, what was the curses name?"

"Ah um...lemme think, it was definitely...uh...ama...amamoo, amamee, uh wait...."

"Amamotetsu?" Gojo offered which promptly made Yaga flinch in shock.

"Yeah that's it!" You jumped up.

"Amamotetsu-! But how?!" Yaga tensed shooting up.

"I'm not sure how he got unsealed but...this isn't the first time I've heard this type of thing happening before.."

This caught your attention, "What do you mean?"

"When Megumi and I first retrieved the curse, we teamed up with Nanami. He was the one who told us about this curse's history... apparently this particular curse is known for transcending through times and universes-"

"W-what?" You felt your body slump down. What did that mean?? Did that mean you- that you were in a different universe?! How-what- you felt your whole body begin to shake.

This was the first time Yaga seemed to let down his guard because he now was beginning to understand you weren't a threat.

You felt something warm being placed on your shoulders. You looked up at Yaga through blurred lenses.

"Yaga..." your voice broke as did the dam holding back your tears... how could this have happened?! What were you even supposed to do?! And Satoru, what was he even going through now?!"

"Listen, theres no need to panic, we'll figure it out alright?" He assured you, but it wasn't quite the same knowing he didn't know you." You nodded anyway.

"Satoru, why don't you call Nanami, we'll see what more he can tell us...in the meantime it would help if we knew some more about you and the curse." You nodded and braced yourself for the onslaught of questions.

"First off, it's quite clear you're close to us, so are you a teacher here or something?" You a teacher? If you weren't so upset you'd laugh

"Teacher? No, I actually work in the city..but I do help out occasionally at the school when I'm needed.."

"So then how did you get involved with us in the first place?" you looked over to where Satoru was finishing the call with Nanami.

"Well...Satoru helped me fight off a curse one time, that's how we met. He basically saved me and then convinced me to train with him...since then I've always kinda been around.." you twiddled with the ring on your finger, more specifically the ring he gave you on that special day.

Yaga must've of noticed your hesitance. "Something tells me there's more to the story.." you looked up with sad eyes, then over to where satoru was also now tuned in, phone in his pocket. You took a deep breathe.

"No it's just, it's finally sinking in ya know..." you decided to keep that part about your relationship quiet for now. You were already overwhelmed and just wanted to lie down for awhile. Your injured although mild still hurt and you were now feeling the true exhaustion settle in.

Yaga looked at you sympathetically then nodded, "Why don't you rest for little, Satoru?" He got off the wall, "Nanami will come by tonight, for now I'll take her to Shoko. Yaga nodded then patted your shoulder gently, "Try to get some sleep, we'll figure all this out" you thanked him quietly then followed Satoru out the room.

You quietly trailed behind him in the dim hallway. His back had never made you feel so lonely.

You didn't even realize you were crying until you felt the coldness on your cheeks. Satoru pasued a sec to turn around.

"Hey, there's no need for tears, didn't you hear us? We'll figure it out"

You nodded despondently.

"C'mon, have I ever let you down before?" He smirked.

You smirked through the tears, "Always so confident, no matter what universe huh" you wiped away your tears with your sleeve and walked next to him.

"Well I am the strongest, I'm sure any other version of me would no doubt be the same"

"Yeah maybe arrogant is the better word.."

"Awe don't be mean now, after all for you to be so casual around me, we must be friends yeah?"

"Yeah you could say that..." you absentmindedly twirled the ring around your finger. Remembering the way he proposed all those years ago.

"And here we are, Shoko!” He called busting inside without knocking.

"How many times have I told you not just to barge in here?”

"Well it's an emergency of sorts"

"Huh?" She finally looked up from her work.

You waved shyly.

"And who's this?"

"Well now that's a bit complicated..."

**************************************************

"Take it easy alright, and if you need anything here's my cell"

"Thanks Shoko, oh wait my phone!" You suddenly remembered and frantically patted your body down.

You sighed in relief pulling out the device, seemingly unharmed by some miracle.

But then your brows furrowed seeing the blue case instead of your own and a sticky note with a tongue sticking out. *Bring this to me at work will you baby, then I can see your beautiful face*

You felt your irritation rise, "Of all the days Satoru you had to switch our phones today!? Ugh" you ripped off the note, usually you loved these little pranks but now you wanted to kill him.

"Huh what did I do?"

"Sorry not you, other you.." you clicked the on button and tried a variety of passwords.

Dammit satoru

"Wait is that my phone?" He peered over your shoulder.

You perked up, "yeah it is! Do you know the password?”

"Hmm lemme try" he grabbed it out of your hands and you waited anxiously.

"Got it"

"Wait really?!"

"Yep, All great gojos think alike-" he suddenly froze.

"What's wrong?" You eyed him curiously but he just stared at his phone dumfoundedly.

"How close did you say we were again...?"

Shoko curious leaned over and her eyes went wide.

"What do you mean, what are you looking at?" You moved next to him and gasped at the saved screen. A picture of you asleep in bed in something strappy, barely covered by the sheets and toru leaned over kissing your cheek.

"AH DON'T LOOK" you tried snatching the phone away but he held It above his head.

Ugh his stupid tallness!!

"Satoru wait!" You reached helplessly as he started scrolling through his camera roll. You were mortified to learn that most of them were candid shots of you. Some appropriate and some not.

You excersizing bent over, your sillohette behind the shower curtain, you licking a lollipop, you wearing a shirt of his on laundry day…

"Geez were you stalking her or something" shoko commented disturbed.

"Satoru! please!" Finally he let you snatch the phone back. Your face hotter than the sun.

"So I guess that's what you were hiding..."

you sighed knowing you couldn't keep it hidden much longer.

"I guess that explains a little why you have my grandmothers ring..”

this got your attention.

"Wait what??" Your eyes widened.

"This is you're grandmothers ring?!"

"You mean you didn't know...?" Shoko asked.

"No...you just gave it to me, but you never said it was hers" You felt a rush of warmth knowing how much she meant to him. Probably the only member of his clan that actually cared for him. Sadly she passed when he was young. The truth is this was the ring he gave you when he proposed- or more like told you he was gonna marry you and you didn't have a choice- not that you were gonna say no to the cocky idiot.

"So what's your relationship with other Gojo then?" Shoko asked.

"Well uh...that's a little...." You hesitated wondering if you should say.

"Might as well say it, I mean obviously other me and you are pretty close" he motioned to the phone.

sigh

here goes

"I guess some might say...well if you look at it one way...um... I guess legally and technically other you, and me are what some might call...married"

"What no way?! Gojo actually settled down!?”

“Hey don’t sound so surprised! Although to be honest.. I’m finding that a little hard to believe myself..”

“Well you weren’t exactly a one woman guy when I met you..”you recalled all his various flings in the time before you were dating.

“The other me must be worried then huh?”

I sigh, “I wonder if you’ve figured out what happened yet..”

“Don’t worry, I’m really smart, there’s no way I wouldn’t know”

“Cocky bastard” I let out a tired laugh.

BZZZT BZZZT BZZZT

“Huh?”

“Wait is other gojos phone ringing?”

“Yeah it says “Wifey is calling..”

“What no way!? How?!” I jump to grab the phone and answer the call. Not knowing really what to expect. Maybe the tower got mingled weirdly.

��H-hello??” I call out anxiously.

“Y/n? Where are you!?”

“T-Toru!!!” I can’t help but cry out.

“Are you ok? What happened?? Why can’t I sense your energy in the city?”

“T-Toru I was attacked on the way to the school! I think that curse- amamama got free and he sent me to another dimension!!!”

“Babe..have you been drinking?”

“I’m serious Toru! That curse! The one you and Megumi brought for me to add a seal to! He sent me to another dimension! I’m here with another version of you!!”

“…is this payback for because I said your ass got bigger? Because you know I meant that as a compliment.”

“Y-you idiot!! I’m serious!!”

“No kidding? You’re being serious?”

“Would I joke about something like this?”

“… hold on a sec” a woosh sound emits from the speaker

“Shit..”

“Toru?”

“I just transported to the road. I can sense the residual energy…I see blood, were you hurt?” He sounds more serious now.

“I’m ok.. Shoko fixed me up..”

“So what…you’re in a dimension parallel to ours?”

“Not exactly… I guess I don’t exist here.. or at least I’m not apart of everyone’s lives..”

“…don’t worry alright? I’ll figure this out, have I ever let you down?”

I give this gojo a knowing look,

“Never.”

“Plus my birthdays coming up, and you promised to do that thing I like as much as I want so how can I let you be in another dimension for too long?”

“Ah Toru you’re on speaker you know!!”

“Hey other me you there?!” Your gojo suddenly shouted.

“Uh yep I’m here..”

“This is definitely a first.. ahem well anyway until I get this sorted out take care of our girl alright?!She’s pretty weak so keep an ey-“

“Hey!”

“As I was saying, keep an eye on her. Also make sure she gets iron pills from the pharmacy since hers are here. Oh and she’s allergic to tuna and if she stays out in the sun too long she’ll get this weird rash-“

“I’m hanging up” you reached for the button.

“Hey cmon I’m not there-well I’m kind of there but I just wanna make sure my baby is taken care of!!”

“I’m an adult not a child! You don’t need to say all these things, I can take care of myself here just fine!!”

“Pfft says the one who made me transport home in the middle of a mission to kill a cockroach.”

“IT HAD WINGS”

“Alright alright, I know you’re a big girl. Let me go so I can figure this all out quickly and get you back.”

“Yeah..ok”

“Hey, no crying ok?”

“Ok.. I guess I’ll talk to you later? We are meeting Nanami here because he has knowledge about the curse apparently. I’ll let you know how that goes..”

“Alright, later then.”

“Love you Toru…”

“Not as much as I love me”

“Pfft asshole”

“Heh, there’s that laugh I love so much. love ya sweetheart, be careful ok?”

“I will”

*click*

For the first time since your arrival you felt some relief.

You awkwardly looked up to the pair and found Shoko dumbfounded and satoru scratching the back of his head.

“Still can’t believe it…”

“Um well that was definitely a first…”

“So what now?” Shoko took a drag seeming bored already.

“Now we go and see if Nanami can make sense of this. Come on, he’s waiting for us.” He motioned and you followed with a bit more hope now.

The power of two Gojos with one goal? Yeah you’d be home before you knew it.

Should I continue this? Make it into a series? Lemme know:) thanks for reading!

Part 2

540 notes · View notes

stereax · 5 months ago

Text

CapFriendly Alternative Sites MegaPost

(Last update: 07/27 - added CapSized.)

As we are all likely aware by now, the Washington Capitals have decided to ruin everyone's lives by purchasing and sunsetting CapFriendly. The site has gone dark as of July 10, 2024.

While the hockey community has experienced a similar loss before, with the death of Matthew Wuest and the subsequent loss of CapGeek, this is a markedly different situation that sets a troubling precedent - namely, that freely usable, public NHL data is now available to the highest bidder, who can then revoke access to the data at a minute's notice. Two things can coexist: we can be happy for the makers of CapFriendly that they are being compensated well for their services while also scorning the Washington Capitals organization for choosing to turn off CapFriendly entirely.

Under the cut, please find a list of free CapFriendly alternatives and other websites that contain NHL data. (In some cases, they are mostly free - however, most/all important information for lay analysis is available for free.) This list is dynamic and taking suggestions, so please feel free to send me any websites you find at @stereax and check the original post for updates!

PART 1: SALARY CAP TRACKERS

PuckPedia: The New CapFriendly

PuckPedia is the closest replacement to CapFriendly currently available. It contains salary cap information for all teams and players, draft pick information, several calculators including a buyout calculator and a pick value calculator, agent information, and more. They also run PuckDoku! The biggest strike against PuckPedia is its lack of simulators (Armchair GM, mock draft, or trade simulators); however, in the wake of the CapFriendly news, PuckPedia shared that an Armchair GM simulator is under active development. 07/05 Update: PuckGM is here! You can also react to prospective PuckGMs (thumbs up, thumbs down, laugh, think emojis).

CapSized: Labor of Love

Referred to me by @nonslipdoormat and billed as a "solo female developer's project" (nonslipdoormat IS said developer!), CapSized is a site that's designed similarly to CapFriendly. It has some features other sites lack, such as trade histories going back to 2003 (with some entries as old as 1964!) and a detailed transactions page again stretching YEARS into the past. The more you poke around, the more cool things you uncover. Its primary purpose is to be a "visual database", but calculators and an NHL GM mode are on the list of future additions. I'll be dead honest, I think this is my favorite cap-checker site because of all the extra utilities. Super excited to see where this project goes!

Referred to me by @reavenedges-lies. A "baby site" that has some of the basics of salary cap info, plus a buyout calculator, qualifying offer calculator, and trade proposal maker. The trade proposal maker is prone to error and seems to only be useful for graphics. It can be a useful site for some, but it would not be my first choice.

CapWages: CapFriendly Lite

Another alternative to PuckPedia that mimics CapFriendly in design and is more intuitive for users going directly from CapFriendly to an alternative site. Like PuckPedia, it now features a GM mode, but the GM mode is in beta and is not fully functional (it only shows contracts currently existing at the NHL level). Nevertheless, for checking salary cap info, it is very good and I recommend it. Also now has a buyout calculator.

CapSpace: Young Gun

BenchWarmers: Greenhorn

Similar to CapSpace but perhaps a little better in the design department. I like how, if you don't have an account, it acts like you're Kyle Dubas and has you watching Toronto and Carolina. Has a few neat stats (like "core four" which shows how much the four most expensive players are making) that I haven't seen easily replicated on other sites, but functionality is rather limited outside of that, which is why it's also not my first choice.

Spotrac: Another Salary Cap Checker

An alternative to PuckPedia for salary cap information. However, it lacks much of the information and functionality of PuckPedia or most other sites listed here.

PART 2: ADVANCED STATS

NaturalStatTrick: The Holy Grail of Stats

NaturalStatTrick, or NatStat for short, is a site that contains just about any stat you can think of for any team or player. It has a learning curve but is generally understood to be the most reliable stat tracker available for free. You can even view stats for individual games on it!

MoneyPuck: DTWoMeter and More

You know it from the Deserve-to-Win-o-Meter or its playoff odds rings, but MoneyPuck has a lot of useful data as well if you do a little browsing. Generally, I've heard that MoneyPuck is less accurate than NatStat, but is easier to use, especially on mobile.

HockeyViz: "If I Ever Sell, I Failed"

Home of the Simple Hockey Charts, HockeyViz has a visual for just about every stat out there. You've almost certainly seen some of them before. Most of them are completely free to the public! They're super useful for visualizing stats as more than "just numbers", allowing you to see exactly WHERE things are happening on the ice.

HockeyStatCards: GameScore Kings

Again, you've probably seen HockeyStatCards's GameScore charts. Using data from NatStat (see above) and an algorithm created by Dom Luszczyszyn, it provides a simple GameScore number that tells you whether a player is having a positive or negative impact on the ice for every game in the NHL.

PART 3: SPECIALIZED SITES

NHL Armchair GM: Building Rosters

This site allows you to Armchair GM a roster. Notably, it has a steeper learning curve than CapFriendly and does not have a forum or other way to easily save and publicize your Armchair GM moves. However, it can be useful to make Armchair GMs and have visuals for them.

NHL Entry Draft: With the First Overall Pick...

This site contains a ton of draft resources, from a mock draft simulator to scouting reports. Definitely a useful site for those who are interested in the entry draft. I've seen a couple of mock draft sites, but this one seems to have by far the easiest and arguably most expansive way to use it.

NHL Injury Viz: Rulers of LTIR

Here, you can explore the relationship between the injuries of players, their cap hits, and how teams did without them. Very useful when you're arguing that a certain player going down doomed the team.

PART 4: MORE TYPES OF DATA

HockeyReference: The Good Old Days

Hockey Reference is best used for surface level data about older players. It has some trivia sections as well, for if you ever wanted to know all players wearing certain jersey numbers, sharing a certain birthday, or hailing from Alaska.

EliteProspects: Every League Imaginable

Want to know the roster of a third-tier league in Quebec? EliteProspects has you covered. Literally every league on the face of the Earth, currently existing and not, EliteProspects has info on. Any player you can possibly name, EliteProspects has their stats from atom hockey all the way to the end of their career.

HockeyDB: Another Spot for Stats

HockeyDB, referred to me by @reavenedges-lies, is another solid site for looking up basic hockey stats. Also has a ton of leagues, similar to EliteProspects. Has a hockey card feature as well that shows you cards featuring the player you've looked up, which is neat!

PART 5: FORUMS

HFBoards: Hockey Forums

Probably the most well-known hockey forum out there. If you want to talk puck on a more forum-like site, similar to CapFriendly's forums, this is the one for you.

PART 6: CAPFRIENDLY ARCHIVES

SergeiFyodorov's CapFriendly FAQ Drive

Curated by @sergeifyodorov. Originally posted here and sent to me by @fellowshipofthegay. Archives of the CapFriendly FAQs!

Got a site that's not listed here? Let me know at @stereax and I'll add it! Remember: While CapFriendly may be going away, hockey analysis is here to stay!

#sterechats :)#stereanalysis #stereducation #capfriendly #puckpedia

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lexirosewrites · 3 months ago

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it’s my two year Steddie-versary today?!!!

(which means I’m gonna ramble emotionally for a little bit)💛

I’m not really sure how to fully describe the last two years of my life and my involvement in the steddie fandom, but I’ll try!

I remember watching season four of ST and really liking Eddie, thinking he was so cool. I’d always liked Steve, but putting them together was a whole different story. And then I recall seeing fanart, finding a couple fics here and there.

I wasn’t aware how deep I’d gotten until I was drafting a fic of my own, eager to join the fun any way that I could. It had been years since I’d written anything of my own, but I was lonely and bored enough to try.

I drafted my first fic “All Through The Night” for a month.

I wrote it. Rewrote it. Edited it. Doubted whether it should stay in the drafts. Finally, I just hit post.

From there, it kept going. I’d write a few non-omegaverse fics based on TikTok prompts. Then, I’d end up delving into the omegaverse trope in a way I never had before.

I started to remember how much I enjoyed writing and I found a community that was kind to me. I made friends in the AO3 comments of all places!

It was a few months before I joined ST twitter in December of 2022, but I was encouraged to hang out and make more friends.

(I don’t need to rehash the bad parts of my experience because I think we’re all pretty aware of what happened. But I don’t want those things to define me or spoil all the good that’s come from this fandom either. Bullies don’t get to take this from me.

I wasn’t super active on Tumblr prior to my Twitter leave because I didn’t really understand the app😅 we figured it out eventually and I am so grateful to have been welcomed here when I was feeling so low.)

I figured out a lot about myself in this fandom! I identified as a cis, bi-questioning woman when I started writing!! That’s insane to me now!

But I found a place to explore and meet other queer people and ask questions that I would’ve never asked!

I was leading worship at a mega church when I posted my first fic. I was freshly separated from my ex-husband and still hurting immensely. I was working through a pandemic as a nurse and hating my life. I didn’t have much that brought me joy anymore.

This silly gay ship probably saved my life…

And I know I’ve been semi-MIA as far as posting to AO3 the last several months, but I have no intentions of leaving this fandom anytime soon. I will not abandon my fics or disappear. I just need a little bit of a break because I burnt myself out on writing for a year and a half!

God this post went way too long. Oops.

Okay! In summary! Today is my two year Steddie-versary and I love you all!!! I’m grateful for the friends I’ve made and the support I’ve had to share my stories.

(also tbh I cannot believe I tricked this many of you into reading mpreg)

#lexirose rambles as much as they write #steddie

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captainlexapro · 4 months ago

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hang on. I just need to talk about quinn's autograph for a minute because i have so much appreciation for the effort and intention he puts into it. (also i love linguistics/language/writing and how people sign their name is actually very interesting to me)

Been thinking about this (x) article from 2021 (and also very much demko saying "thoughtful" for his one word to describe huggy at the nhl awards this year. demmer u don't understand the implications of what you just said).

teammates chirping quinn for being a slow at signing because it's not a scribble or an unintelligible flourish...but he straight up doesn't give a fuck what they think because HE wants HIS signature to be easily distinguishable for FANS. like the awareness of how special that stuff can be for people. 💙 antoine agreeing that "you should always be able to tell the name without the number." YES!!! YOU GET IT!! (don't get me wrong, there can be iconic autographs that aren't legible whatsoever but idk. to me it's something about how it's a name and i'd like to be able to read it. it's so personal and a scribble doesn't feel personal).

i wanted to see how his signature has changed/progressed over the years, so i dug around a bit to see where he's landed at this point. let's back up to the beginning!

2018 (screenshot from this vid) -

huggy's first official nhl signature!!

his draft day signature shows he's still fully spelling out his first name. it also looks just very. teenage boy who can't do cursive.

BUT the elements are already there - heavy on the Qu, the Hu, (new nickname Q-hoo? like yoohoo? no? fine.) and the s. starting to stylize the gh.

*side notes: Qu is such a rough first letters pairing rip... it's a distinct shape. printing Q doesn't flow easily into the u while cursive Q is ugly (in my opinion) and idk if a lot of people actually know what a true cursive Q looks like (hint: it looks like a 2). also, "quinn" is hard just because it's SEVEN vertical elements back to back. i honestly think doing it in cursive requires more focus than printing. hughes is fun because it has the high and low elements right next to each other, which he emphasizes.*

2019 (nhl debut) -

oh boy. sill very choppy. still have those main elements of emphasis happening.

i feel like he probably hadn't started worrying about his signature yet (this was his first game, to be fair).

not a lot of connectivity (especially in Hughes)

the n has hints of what it will become later, though, which is cool to see!

2021 (from article)-

only writing Quinn now (only one dot for an i). maybe to speed it up, maybe just bc that's the nickname he goes by, maybe both.

seeing the connecting line/stroke between the g and h more prominently

s is looking more stylized as well

i think he's picking up the pen a fair amount still (maybe up to 8 or 9 strokes in this one?). so yeah, i'm sure it took a while compared to others...

2022 (from this silly vid)-

this is kind of not a 'true' signature to me bc 1) given the nature of the video i kind of doubt he would have put 100% effort into it (complete lack of stylized s) and 2) you can tell the surface/pen combo isn't great - see the jaggedness on the gh?

this is the most ~scribbly~ version i saw. like i said, idk if i really count this one but i don't want to dig around forever to find a confirmed 2022 signature

regardless, he seems to have sped it up and is better at the cursiveness aspect. Most of it is connected - i'd guess 5 total strokes for that version.

2023 (from wallpapers on the canucks' insta)-

definitely more committed to a "look"

Qu is kind of aggressive lol and the gh stroke isn't super smooth either. HOWEVER it is 100% a stylistic element he focuses on. also it's fast to connect them, so it probably feels pretty natural. just needed more practice on keeping that stroke aligned.

officially no dotting of the i anymore - just swooping up high (again, probably helps with speed)

we have the fully stylized s! i'm actually very fond of that part because lots of people will let the last letters fall to the wayside and basically just draw a line. he's kinda doing that a smidge with the n. but there's intention on the s and it looks very nice!

2023/2024 (from canucks' wallpapers & inhousemade insta)-

here we have our latest iteration

I reallyyy like the finishing on the n - it matches well with how he does the s, which is so pretty. such a fun letter to write lol

i think the gh line has been fully mastered at this point. and it's a good way to keep his signature legible but still give it a unique flair. not everyone's signature/name has that type of line so ppl can pick his name out rather easy i would guess.

i think huggy's probably settled on autograph style/look at this point. but i will still keep an eye out to see if he decides to try a new element!

thanks for reading and hopefully you found this mildly interesting ☺️

#me #quinn hughes #canucks #autographs #handwriting #he has such a unique name so i was fascinated with how he chooses to write it #everything i learn about him makes my brain go oh!#also kindred spirit in having a qu in your name (but mine's not at the beginning)#is this insane of me? sure #<-- wonder how often i will use that tag #blue.chats

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year ago

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Don’t imagine MK1 men edition;

This came to me as I was listen to asmr last night. Honestly have no clue what this is. 🦦

Don’t imagine Tomas asking you out of the blue about how he smells, having just finished using a new shower jell that had you recently bought, and once you were within range Tomas then pecks your forehead with his soft lips before pulling away with flustered cheeks and a dopey smile as he sheepishly rubs the back of his head.

‘I couldn’t resist.’ He claims. ‘I saw others doing something similar with their spouses, and so I guess I wanted to do it too. Pretty silly huh?’

Don’t imagine Raiden listening intently as you spoke, giving you every ounce of his attention towards the topic of discussion, smiling softly as his unwavering gaze never once faltered from your face; whereas yours would find a hard time staying glued to his beautiful dark ones because of how deeply he looked at you, making you feel not only heard but seen too.

Even as you apologised for talking his ear off, Raiden would counter that your voice was something he could never grow tired of, for it was his favourite sound.

It was such a simple thing but it was enough for you to feel yourself becoming fidgety under his gaze. It didn’t seem to matter how many times Raiden did this because it would always feel like the first time, every time.

Don’t imagine Liu Kang trying to make up for lost time by spending whatever small amount of time he had with you to the fullest before duty inevitably calls for his attention once more.

He’s fully aware that you don’t hold it against him and that you knew what you were getting into upon agreeing to being with him, but he couldn’t help but feel as though he was in some way selfish with you, to which you were quick in disagreeing with by saying he was more selfless then selfish.

However that didn’t stop Liu Kang from helping you with your daily tasks as a way of expressing his gratitude for you, whether that be going down to the market, making the bed, preparing breakfast or something to drink. Liu Kang will do it without a second thought because who knows when he’ll have to leave you again.

So he savours every moment while he can but it doesn’t make the pain of having to separate from you anywhere near bearable.

‘No matter how far apart we may be physically, that does not mean my heart isn’t any less always with you.’

Don’t imagine Kuai Liang holding you tightly to him during the cold nights, his above average body warmth acting as your only form of comfort to combat the cold drafts that would somehow make their way into your room.

He’d thoroughly enjoyed the view of you trying to get as close as possible to leech off of his warmth, he couldn’t get enough with just how perfect you slotted against him and would often times have to pull you back into his embrace when he felt you shift the slightest bit away from him.

Kuai Liang loves keeping you close to his person, it makes him feel as though he’s protecting you with everything that he has, he loves it even more when he gets the chance to wake up before you and chooses to admire your every feature with adoration and love, engraving every inch of your face to memory; even your every imperfection that you claim to posses was engraved into his mind as to Kuai Liang, to love was to love imperfectly.

Not all love was perfect but yours certainly the most perfectly imperfect love there was.

Don’t imagine Bi-Han allowing you to take care of his injuries when he gets back from missions.

Don’t imagine Bi-Han‘s muscles tense up initially upon feeling your hands upon his injured bicep, soft hands working away at the wound in a way that wouldn’t cause him any more pain then he was already in.

Don’t imagine Bi-Han as his his sharp, observant eyes watch your every movement like a hawk, it’s not like he didn’t trust you, he was just trained to be vigilant whenever he put his care within the hands of others. He would even do it with the medics now and then but quickly came to accept that they knew what they were doing.

Don’t imagine Bi-Han slowly coming to terms with just how touch starved he was when he found himself at the mercy of your tender, caring touch, practically giving over all power to you in that situation to do whatever you saw fit. You could’ve hurt him even further for all he knew but instead you treated each of his wounds with a kind of gentleness he had never seen nor received before.

Whatever you do don’t imagine Bi-Han inspecting your work after you were done, giving a satisfied grunt, before he did an uncharacteristic thing by grabbing your hands within his own and kissing the back of them in gratitude.

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argisthebulwark · 5 months ago

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Did I Find You, Or You Find Me?

summary: Due to forces outside of your control, you've found yourself stuck in an arranged marriage. f!reader, no y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Miraak, Vilkas, Farkas, Arnbjorn warnings: they're long lol. alcohol consumption, not super healthy relationship dynamics, a bit suggestive a/n: i meant to put some more fellas in here but tumblr was struggling to load this draft so i'll have to do a part two masterlist

Brynjolf

Born as the middle daughter of the Black Briar family you are fully aware of their interactions with the Thieves Guild. You've watched your mother meet with Brynjolf, catching glimpses when you're instructed to carry in stacks of paperwork or clearing away empty wine bottles after a long negotiation. His flirtatious remarks remarks leave you breathless, never going further than a shared smile or brushing shoulders in the hall.

As a middle child, you've often found yourself in an odd position - you're an adult and are expected to handle many responsibilities, yet still infantilized by your siblings. Often forgotten between Sibbi and Ingun's rebellions and Hemming's single minded dedication to the family, you're expected to pick up the pieces without making a fuss.

"We need to solidify our ties with the Thieves Guild." Mother's sharp voice interrupts your dinner. You nod along, picking at your potatoes and planning out the rest of your week. "How old are you now?"

"Twenty four."

"Oh, good!" The excited tone of her voice rouses suspicion. You peek up at your mother, heart ramming against your ribs - she's never taken an interest in your life before. This can lead nowhere good.

You can only hope that silence will make her forget you. Her schedule is usually so full that you're allowed to exist out of her eyeline - taking a few extra moments in the market to flip through some books or visiting Ingun in the alchemy shop to chat. There is joy to be found in those small moments when you escape from her calculated gaze.

Of course this doesn't happen. Before the week is out you find yourself standing in the Temple of Mara, heart in your throat and siblings snickering from the pews. The handsome thief is gentle when he holds your hands, voice a bit shaky as he reiterates every vow back to the priest.

Returning to the Ratways feels odd. You part from your family, ink drying on the many contracts as Brynjolf - your husband - leads you through the Cistern. You feel a bit like you're floating as the events of the day settle on your mind. Panic chokes out all rational thought - who will ensure that the animals are fed and organize the contracts in your absence?

"I'm sorry - this all happened so fast, you may need to show me around once more when my mind stops spinning." You can't recall half of what he's pointed out and your feet are aching. You gulp, staring up at Brynjolf's kind eyes.

"Don't worry, lass." That soft grin makes your heart race when he shows you the private quarters, a small room branching off from the tavern. "We're in the same boat, you've got me."

With each day that passes, that knot in your chest lessens. The anxiety shrinks as you settle into your new life, finding the lack of routine comfortable - no list of chores awaits you, no one calls for you to sit in on meetings. After twenty four years of responsibility it is terrifying to realize that no one expects anyone from you.

Despite all the initial fears you find yourself flourishing. Far from your mother's prying eyes you discover that you enjoy hearing stories from the other thieves, Vex and Delvin teaching you a few tricks and Tonilia offering to scrounge up a set of armor. No longer are you Maven's daughter or Hemming's sister - you are yourself.

Brynjolf maintains a respectable distance, never straying too far but making no moves toward romance. He acknowledges that your partnership is just that - an agreement set forth by others, it is not a true marriage. He joins you for dinner each night, finding himself eager to hear about what you've done that day.

"What did you mean back then?" You finally ask, surprised at how steady your voice has become. Brynjolf's gaze still makes your heart flutter but you no longer feel the need to shrink away from it.

"By what, lass?"

"When you said we're in the same boat."

"Ah." He leans closer, voice conspiratorially low. Your cheeks flush when his fingers dance over yours, barely a touch. "Well, I'm guessin' you weren't exactly excited by the prospect of marrying a stranger, yeah?"

"It wasn't my first choice."

"Wasn't part of my plan, either." You hate how your stomach drops at the admission. Of course you're aware that he hadn't truly wanted you, but that knowledge does little to soothe the sting.

"Delvin's too old and Vex hates dealin' with your mother." His eyes drop to where your fingers have twisted together, the toes of his boots brushing yours. "I didn't plan on it bein' me but I couldn't stomach the thought of anyone else marryin' you."

The weeks blend into months, changes in your life slow but steady. Brynjolf sets aside time each week to teach you how to wield a dagger. Your beds scoot closer and you stay up later talking, candles burning down to nubs while you share every little shred of yourselves. He tells you of this the people he's lost and you share the desperation you've always felt for more, blushing when he jokes about the fulfilling life of a thief.

Your confidence continues to blossom the longer you're away from your family, brave enough to disregard a direct summons from your mother. Somewhere she is steaming, Hemming probably cursing your name at her side. It's freeing to realize how little you care.

"Proud of you, lass." Brynjolf grins when you bounce up to him, excitedly recounting how cool it felt throwing her letter in the fire. His hand is warm when it cups your cheek. "How should we celebrate?"

A bit drunk on your newly found courage, you kiss him. You've thought about it for months, stomach fluttering when you first noticed the way his eyes linger on you. It's quick and your lips tingle a bit when your husband chuckles, already leaning in for another.

Miraak

"All of our efforts to reign in Miraak have failed." Arngeir's eyes pin you in place. Your ass is going numb from those stone seats but there's no escaping this conversation. "Dragonborn, the Jarls continue to call for action."

"I have tried everything to defeat Miraak."

"Yet we remain unsuccessful." Biting your tongue barely contains the multitude of protests. Your body bears scars from the many times you've faced Miraak and his cultists, brain addled by the ages you'd spent combing through Apocrypha's twisting hallways.

"Miraak has a clear interest in you." Borri chimes in, voice hoarse from lack of use.

"He speaks the truth, Dragonborn." Arngeir concurs. "We have formulated a new plan. The Jarls have approved, as have many leaders from Solstheim."

"Wonderful." You grumble, hauling yourself to your feet. Might as well start preparing. "What is this new plan of attack?"

"You will offer yourself to Miraak."

"Your plan is to sacrifice me?" The shrill tone of your voice echoes off the stone walls. "How will my death resolve anything?"

"Not as a sacrifice. As a bride."

Despite your many protests, it seems that Miraak could not pass up an opportunity to get under your skin. He agrees to the proposition - you become his partner and he scales back the attacks on civilians. The rage becomes almost mind numbing. You cannot believe that this plan is being enacted, that your elders are offering you up for the mere promise of peace.

When Arngeir bustles you out the door he instructs you to slay the First Dragonborn. His voice is stern when he informs you that you will not be welcomed back to Skyrim's shores until Miraak is dead. The old men don't listen to a single protest that passes your lips, somberly shaking their heads and claiming that this is the last resort. Their trust is placed in you.

There is no ceremony, no hint of romance - just your stack of books and a bout of seasickness as you're ferried to Solstheim. Cultists meet you at the dock, Raven Rock entirely silent as too many pairs of eyes watch them escort you to Miraak's palace. You walk with your chin held high and pray that no one notices the fear simmering just under your skin.

Miraak's glare tracks each move you make as you prowl through his manor. You keep your distance, intent on finding some hidden weakness that will break him without rousing too much suspicion. You circle one another, neither willing to break the peace and strike first. Even when you are alone he maintains some sort of mask - always obscuring at least half of his face, never giving you a full view.

Meals are silent except for thinly veiled threats. Doors to both bed chambers are locked and barred each night. You find comfort in his library, sprawling shelves holding volumes thought long lost and safe from the mind bending power of Apocrypha. On days when you grow too exhausted to search you tuck yourself away into a secluded corner of the library and read until your eyes can't focus.

"You do not have to hide." Miraak's deep voice shocks you out of your reading. He eyes the stack of books at your side and you feel terribly vulnerable. "This is now your home as much as it is mine."

Clearly displeased with your lack of response, he huffs and walks away. Your brain struggles to catch up - the usual nasty tone of his voice was gone, something almost kind about the way he'd spoken to you. It's disconcerting.

Thankfully, you are too preoccupied with your assignment to notice how deeply he burns for you. You do not see the heat behind his glare or the tension in his body when you drift too near, barely keeping a leash on the gut wrenching desire.

Miraak finds it quite easy to convince himself that he detests you - the flipping of his gut is mere disgust and your permanent place in his dreams is blamed on that damned prophecy. You are too distracted sniffing around for clues to notice how deeply and shamefully he wants you.

"What is it you seek?" His voice nearly stops your heart. Blade aimed for his chest you whirl around, scolding yourself for lowering your guard enough for him to get so close. You pause, gaping at the face he's hidden behind masks for months and fight back the horrible wave of attraction.

The crooked nose, stubble trailing up his jaw, dark eyes glaring down at you. Grey streaks are visible where his hair's pushed away from his forehead. A scar drags through his lower lip, drawing far too much of your attention. Grinding your teeth against the way your cheeks blush, you summon every ounce of vitriol you can.

"None of your business."

"Incorrect. You are in my study."

"What I am searching for does not regard you."

"Doubtful, little dragon." You curse your heart for flipping at that pet name. Miraak's grin is nearly a snarl when he leans closer, unable to keep himself away from you any longer.

For one night, he will release his self control. He will make himself vulnerable if it means he can get a bit closer to you.

Vilkas

As the eldest daughter of a Jarl, your duties never cease. Keeping an eye on your siblings, watching the advisors in preparation for your role, learning from wizards and teachers and warriors alike - it is endless. From a young age you'd intended on caring for your beloved city of Whiterun whether you acted as Jarl or advisor, content with putting in the work for your future.

"We need a foot in the door with the Companions." Proventus' words had roused no suspicion at the time - he'd said similar things about the guild before. "They are unregulated, acting entirely separate from us."

"This is true." Your father had turned to you, heart in your throat at the prospect of proving yourself. You'd fine tuned your political knowledge over the past few years and finally, an opportunity to prove yourself to his court. "Can you be trusted with this task?"

You had no clue what you were agreeing to. You'd anticipated a cordial relationship, that you would be acting as a emissary. You expected to form a diplomatic relationship with the Companions. You'd met a few warriors for training but the prospect of working with them was intriguing, their reputation was equally vicious and respectable.

You try to keep it together for the first meeting. Kodlak Whitemane is intimidating but you stand tall beside your father, chin held high and sword strapped to your side. It has never tasted blood but the advisors had insisted upon you looking your best, presenting yourself as a capable fighter.

Kodlak's warriors appear cleaned up, though you notice the scars - tattoos swirl between the gaps in their armor and wary eyes watching every shadow. The one at his side looks ready to implode; hand wrapped menacingly around the hilt of his sword and dark eyes sweeping over you with barely contained disdain. He sneers, clearly seeing through your carefully placed facade. Your stomach drops when he stands only a few paces from you, arms crossed over his broad chest.

The meeting moves too fast to follow. Kodlak and your father speak in hushed tones, all the other advisors cloistered around them. Notably, you are left out - they must be bartering on your behalf, right? Why else would you be left out of the conversation? Three Companions stand at your side, each appearing equally annoyed.

"May I ask why your folks seem displeased?" You whisper to the man at your side, the one who appears less standoffish than the others. Soft brown eyes blink back at you, a short laugh badly disguised as a cough.

"Surprised you're takin' this so well. We had bets on you running out."

"What?"

"Aela thought you'd last through the discussions. I thought you'd bolt as soon as you saw him. And Vilkas, well he refused to make a bet." The man laughs again, a hand extended toward you. Your head is spinning when the dark haired man walks off in a huff, his anger radiating through the hall.

"Vilkas?"

"Yeah." You follow where he points out the man now shouldering his way into the circle of advisors. "Your new husband."

Despite his initial vitriol, Vilkas is annoyingly formal. He speaks to you as a member of the court - stiff and respectful. He spends little time in your company, taking every assignment offered by his elders to get him out of the city.

You can't say it isn't hurtful. Your union was one of mutual convenience for your families but to see your husband so clearly uninterested wounds you. Your conversations are brief, each focused entirely on whatever business Kodlak has with your father.

You hold your chin high, remaining in your father's home and listening to the advisors fret. Your visits to Jorrvaskr are not unpleasant but there is a notable lack of progress - Aela and Farkas are friendly, Athis slowly warms to you, but it is abundantly clear that they all view you as an outsider. Vilkas can barely remain in the hall, his brother kindly making excuses on his behalf.

Sleeping in your childhood bedroom as a married adult feels strange, though you console yourself with the knowledge that it is not a real marriage. No rings or tender words had been exchanged. It was merely a contract signed by Kodlak and your father on your behalf. You drift off to sleep with the image of Vilkas in your head, wracking your brain for what can be done to smooth things out.

"Hey."

Scrambling for the knife under your pillow, you barely manage to swallow the scream building in your throat. With the blade quivering in your hand you aim it toward your attacker's chest. Vilkas' dark eyes glare down at you, hair mussed and usual armor missing. You blink a few times when turns toward the door.

"Can't sleep. You coming?"

"Coming where?"

"Anywhere but here."

He hardly says a word when you stride out of Dragonsreach. He scoffs at the way you sneak past the guards, dagger still gripped in your hand. You follow him down the chilly steps until you're seated on a bench, backs to the Gildergreen.

"Sorry." He grumbles, dropping his cloak around your shoulders. "Bet you're freezing."

You're too stunned to question it. The cloak smells of him and you find yourself burrowing deeper into it, the first kind move he's made. Vilkas sits at your side, glaring out at the starry sky for what feels like hours.

"What is happening?" You finally ask, glancing over at him. You catch his striking profile, outlined by the silvery moonlight of late night; the sharp bridge of his nose and harsh brows, the lips that look surprisingly soft when they aren't grimacing. Your stomach flips when his eyes slide to you, though they appear uncharacteristically kind.

"Needed to get out for a bit." He shrugs, heaving a sigh. "Figured you could use a break from that place."

It's hard to predict when he will seek you out. Vilkas only appears in the dead of night, often the night before he departs for an assignment. You wander through Whiterun, enjoying the emptiness of the town while he tells you of his recent missions. You are giddy each time he refuses your attempts to return his cloak, wrapping it around your shoulders to walk aimlessly at his side.

Not wanting the conversations to be one sided, you soon find yourself sharing more. Stories of court and your siblings feel boring in comparison but Vilkas seems interested. He remembers names remarkably well, asking after your brother's injured arm weeks after you'd brought it up.

It takes months for you to broach the topic of your future. You've grown comfortable in his company, no longer unsettled by the intensity of his gaze. He is still far from a husband but there is something like friendship blooming between you, an attraction that squeezes at your heart each time he smiles at you.

"I just want to be free." You admit, gazing out over the horizon. As you've spoken the sunrise has begun, rays of pink and orange reaching out to steal the night. You have to return to Dragonsreach soon before everyone else wakes. Despite that reasoning you find yourself leaning into Vilkas' shoulder, heart fluttering when he accepts your touch.

"Free?" He snorts, chin resting on the top of your head. "You're the Jarl's kid, you can do whatever you want."

"I've never made a choice for myself - I didn't even get to choose my husband." Clearly the lack of sleep has loosened your tongue. Vilkas chuckles, a sound that never fails to warm your heart.

"That's fair." He sighs, staring over your shoulder at Jorrvaskr. He's sure that the others have already awoken, chest tight with the unending duties threatening to drown him. "Someday, when we're done solving everyone else's problems, we'll get out of here."

Farkas

Since an early age, you've been warned to stay away from the Companions - their shimmering armor and heroic deeds are inviting but they do not live like you do. Their beast blood is a secret held only by those in the highest ranks, hidden away from the rest of their guild. You've never understood the secrecy but abide by your parents' warnings, heeding the wisdom of your pack.

Numbers have dwindled over the years. Tales told around the long table recount times when your pack commanded Whiterun's rolling plains, hunting and celebrating to their hearts' content. Each generation shrunk - the beast blood not passing on to younger generations and civilization encroaching upon the wilds. Handfuls of families have splintered off, some moving to new Holds while others joined larger packs.

You're fairly certain your hearing must be failing - after ages of warning every wolf off from dealing with the local guilds, your grandmother grimaces around those unbelievable words.

"What?"

"We can no longer survive on our own." She reiterates, your ears ringing. "These lands have been overhunted and new farms claim acres of land every day. Now with the Silver Hand moving into Whiterun," she sighs, gathering herself. Tears prick at your eyes when she rests a wrinkled hand on your shoulder. "Our family has entered an agreement with the Companions."

"Okay." You're struggling to wrap your head around this change but you'll manage - the pit in your stomach for months could finally cease. You know that food sources are growing scarce and numbers are falling but you're still a bit lightheaded at the finality of her statement.

"We've assured their continued support. They cannot back out of this deal."

"How? What do we have to give them?"

"You and some of the others will be married to the younger members of their inner circle."

It's like a punch to the gut. Your marriage is still a handful of years off but you will never forget about it - wondering each day if this is your last before being shackled to the Companions for the rest of your life. Your first meeting happens during a celebratory dinner, your heart in your throat as Kodlak presents the members of his pack.

One boy glowers across the hall and sneers at anyone who dares to speak to him. His brother stands nearby, a friendly smile on his face when Kodlak's hand lands on his shoulder. You can only pray that you aren't partnered with the unpleasant one.

"I'm Farkas." The kind boy introduces himself, calloused hand warm against yours. It takes a moment to remember your name - thankfully, your grandmother pats your shoulder and speaks for you.

"Nice to meet you." You choke out, terrified to be staring into the face of your future husband. His smile comes easily, dimples in his cheeks eyes radiating kindness. Light brown hair is braided out of his face and a broadsword is strapped across his well muscled back.

You spend the night awaiting the horrible stories your elders passed down to come true - that the Companions will shame your way of life or scoff at the state of your hall, but they are amiable. A bit reserved but they do nothing to earn your distrust. They share food and drink hauled down from their hall, listening intently to the stories told by your parents.

Farkas fits in too well. Even after Kodlak and the others stop visiting, contracts signed and goods exchanging hands, Farkas keeps coming. He shows up on your mother's doorstep with an armful of food and brings your siblings presents on their birthdays. Each time he appears you're shocked - this was sold to you as a marriage of convenience, one to fully unite your families. The grin on his face when he teaches your brother how to properly swing a sword or his willingness to help clear the dishes after dinner make you wonder if he was told something different.

Even as the season of your intended wedding approaches you cannot scrape up any distaste for him. You find your heart fluttering when Farkas rolls up his sleeves to help your father chop firewood or falls onto your bed at your side, curiously eyeing whatever book you're reading. You've both grown into a comfortable friendship, choosing to not speak of what awaits you only a few months away.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Farkas offers, eyes sliding your way. Even after all these years he still makes speech difficult, the friendly smile causing your brain to stop functioning. He's asked the question dozens of times but there's something loaded behind his words that makes this feel different. He's so careful when he holds your hand, clearly giving you space to shake him off.

Farkas follows the same path as always around local farms, a pleasant expression on his face but you feel the nerves radiating from him. Perhaps you've just got enough anxiety for you both.

"What's wrong?" You blurt, unable to contain the nerves any longer. Eyes sparkling in the moonlight Farkas turns to you and you're certain the whole valley can hear your heart ramming against your ribs.

"I want to marry you." His voice is uncharacteristically serious.

"That's been arranged since we were kids."

"No, I mean for real." Farkas insists, chilly fingers tracing the shape of your cheek. You've been close to others but nothing has felt like this, no one else has set your skin ablaze with a simple touch.

"I need you to know that I'm not just doing this because Kodlak said to. I want to be here with you, with your family - I want you."

It takes a few minutes to digest that - he wants you. Farkas is patient when you work through that, fingers tightening around yours as he awaits an answer. Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you finally voice the feelings you've ignored for years.

"I want you, too."

Kissing him is so easy, it feels natural. He smells like home; the hands cupping your face are stained from helping your parents cook and the scent of your fireplace clings to hair you'd tied back. Farkas kisses you like it's the first time he's taken a breath, needy and desperate. His nose brushes yours before he's pulling back, that comforting smile rousing butterflies in your gut.

The wedding you'd spent years dreading surpasses all your expectations. Farkas cries the moment he sees you, tears streaming down his cheeks when he pledges each day of his life to yours. You pointedly ignore all the vows regarding duty and tradition - you love this man. You've fallen in love with him slowly and without realizing it, loving him a bit more each day you've spent with him. He speaks of his love for you and respect for your family, summoning fat tears in your eyes when he kisses you.

"Thanks for lovin' me." He murmurs into your hair, crushing you to his chest.

Arnbjorn

"You should do it."

"Absolutely not."

"It's the best way to ensure the survival of both our Guilds!" Delvin insists, that smug look on his face. He thinks he's already won. "If we don't come to an agreement, our groups are bound to cannibalize each other. Our customer base and services are too similar."

"All good points."

"Every Jarl is out for our blood and both of our Guilds have recently lost leaders." It's annoying how correct he is. Delvin nudges the ale toward you, clearly urging you to consider. "A partnership would solve nearly all our problems."

"And why can it not be a business partnership?" You ask, accepting the drink. "Your relationship with the Brotherhood has stood since before I even joined the Guild, has something caused you to doubt it?"

"Unfortunately." Delvin's expression sours at that. "Their new leader."

You agree to a meeting with their new leader, expecting the Listener - they've visited a few times when the Brotherhood needed Delvin's aid, most recently during their move to Dawnstar. Your friendship is easy but holds no attraction, certainly nothing that would tempt you into a marriage.

"The Listener isn't their official leader." Delvin corrects you at the last minute, the group of shadows entering the Flagon. "It's the old leader's widower."

He stands before you, intimidatingly tall and muscled. Unimpressed eyes shamelessly comb through the crowd of thieves, white hair braided away from a handsome face. Delvin's elbow nudges yours and your face burns when you stumble over your introduction, clearing your throat before the conversation begins.

It's rough. Their leader, Arnbjorn, clearly lacks his former partner's knack for negotiation. You'd only encountered Astrid a couple times before her death but remembered her way of speaking, calculated with a constant threat in each word. Arnbjorn is much more straightforward, the Listener and Nazir looking a bit uneasy at his side.

"I have no need of a wife." He speaks plainly, earning a glare from his companions. "My hands are full running the Brotherhood and looking after the recruits."

"My thoughts exactly." you concur, though the conversation spirals away from that point once again.

Gods, you feel like this is never going to end. Hours pass and Delvin's sheet of notes has become illegible. The Listener is predictably quiet, taking in everyone's words while Delvin and Nazir hash out the details - where barriers for contracts should be, how to notify the other, who can recruit in what regions. After far too many drinks their words devolve into an obnoxious drone.

You aren't entirely sure anyone notices when you excuse yourself. Maybe a breath of fresh air will clear your head. You're certain that the sun has risen and quite possibly fallen once more since the negotiations had begun, shuffling your way through the Cistern in search of the outdoors.

"Hey."

Two strong fingers grab your elbow just as you're about to climb to freedom. You turn, sucking in a deep breath when you realize that you're cramped into the secret passageway with Arnbjorn. His cheeks are flushed - he's had even more drinks than you, leaning on the wall for support.

"What?" You try to sound sure of yourself despite the distracting closeness of his body. It's troubling how handsome he is. Arnbjorn blinks at you, sucking in a deep breath before speaking.

"I didn't want you to think my protests have anything to do with you." He clears his throat, obviously struggling to speak so plainly. "It's just - my wife passed away. You're very pretty but I have to think about the Brotherhood."

"I understand." You breathe, unable to ignore the way his eyes seem glued to your mouth. He leans a bit closer and you can smell him, smoke and pine and you fight back the wave of attraction.

Kissing him is foolish. You know this. It is a dumb mistake that you cannot stop yourself from making, closing the tiny distance between you. His lips are warm and god, the large hand curling around your waist and drawing you closer feels divine. His body presses to yours, crowding you against the stone wall until you can feel every delicious inch of him.

"Oh gods -" Delvin's voice shatters the moment. You're shrinking back, Arnbjorn stumbling a few steps away but it's too late. Your face burns when Delvin and the Listener's stares pin you in place. "Well, looks like our problem solved itself."

Marrying him is strange. Arnbjorn is stiff and standoffish, barely grumbling when the arrangements are drawn up. It's hard to forget that kiss, heat creeping into your cheeks every time the memory emerges. He's not unkind, just unwaveringly professional.

"If you're not interested in your wife," the client's words are slurred when he nudges Arnbjorn. "Mind if I take a swing?" A few too many celebratory drinks have been shared after your first successful joint contract. He stares intently at you, arousal pounding through his veins at the sight of you wearing Brotherhood armor.

"What?" The wave of sheer rage catches him off guard. Arnbjorn glares down at the drunken lord, anger building when the man leers toward your group of thieves. He's restrained himself for so long, ignored the way your eyes linger and seek him out because of his damned principles - but he will not allow this.

"You clearly don't want her. No harm in someone else gettin' a chance, right?" The man grumbles into his goblet. "After all the coin I handed out for this job -"

All conversation ceases when Arnbjorn bolts out of his seat. Before you can ask what's wrong he's stalking toward you, fingers gentle but insistent when they grip your chin and tilt your lips toward his. His kiss is full of heat, brain flooding with unabashed arousal as your husband's hips press firmly into yours.

"What's this all about?" You pant, cheeks burning bright red when his nose brushes yours.

"Don't worry about it." Arnbjorn grumbles against your lips. He'll let his reservations slip for this evening of celebration. He tells himself that he will rebuild all those walls in the morning, allowing himself this one night as your husband.

#skyrim #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #writing #brynjolf #miraak #vilkas #farkas #arnbjorn

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concreteburialplot · 13 days ago

Text

Cruel

Pairing: Nicholas x F!Reader

Masterlist: here | Crossposted: ao3 | Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Cocky Asshole!Nick, stereotypical cliché rockstar behavior, toxic af, petnames, fingering, oral (f receiving), p n v, cream pie, canon big fat co-, dramatic and cliché, ~making love~, happy ending, lightly edited, [you deserve better than men like this!!!], 18+ MDNI

Summary: Your long time on-again/off-again love finds you the second his tour bus reaches home. Even with your walls up, he charms his way into apartment and back into your heart.

A/N; Not my best work but this wip has been sitting in my drafts for over a year, finally decided to let it see the light of day. Enjoy 💕 Also… this almost became a Jake Kiszka fic…

“You paint a picture of us, just to burn it. Fool, I’m a fool if the shoe fits.”

- Cool // Gracie Abrams

The minute the GPS was set to home, there was a buzz on your phone that had been absent for the past two months. You unlocked it mindlessly, thinking nothing of it, but the second you read it your heart sunk to your stomach.

❌DO NOT ANSWER❌:

Gonna be back in town around midnight.

See you then?

Absolutely not. Why would you do that to yourself again. Yet, against your better judgement, you answered.

No.

You sent back simply, with your heart pounding in your ears.

He replied almost immediately. The speed of it made your heart flutter but you had to remind yourself that he was probably just bored on a tour bus. That you were probably just the easiest option after having an endless pick of groupies on the road.

Oh, c’mon don’t be like that

We could have fun

The thought of having him again sent a wavering behind your ribs that you quickly tried to squash down. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. No, no, no – you repeated in your head like a mantra.

You: I don’t have fun with you.

Nick: It sure didn’t seem like that before I left

It was a half lie. While you did have fun together, he always came at a cost. He was never yours, not fully. Right before tour was always the worst.

While he was home everything felt different – domestic even at times, and each time you convinced yourself it’d be different, that that time would be the one to stick, that he would stay yours. But then weeks leading up to tour things would change, he’d grow distant, and fights would spawn out of nothing. In an instant, he wasn’t the man you were in love with. Love wasn’t a word you ever threw around in your label-less relationship, but it was felt, at least on your end. Regardless, sex was the one thing that always kept you two together – but it made you weak and pliable.

You: That’s not true and you know it

Nick: Just let me see you, we can talk about it

You mulled it over in your head. Your heart wanted nothing more than to see him again but that was exactly the reason you needed to resist. It was a war between your head and your heart and for once, your head was winning. You were sick of the rollercoaster of loving him, sick of getting your heart broken repeatedly. This tour was the biggest and longest they’d ever done, almost double their usual length, and the fallout with him before he left was the most damaging it’d ever been. The extra time apart allowed you to process the pain and assess the relationship. You’d been able to accept it for what it was and come to terms with the fact that you’d never have him the way you’ve always craved. While he was away, you grieved the crumbs of your situationship and chose yourself for once. Though, the pain that bloomed from that decision felt like a betrayal to your heart in the moment, but you knew it was for the better.

You know it’s for the better.

You: I don’t want to see you, Nicholas.

Nick: I wasn’t aware we were lying to each other now

Heat rose to your cheeks and your stomach churned in anger and pain as your brain flooded with infinite memories of him lying to you.

You: Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you

Nick: Just let me see you

You: No. Why the fuck should I let you

Nick: I wanna talk Nick: I have something for you

You: I don’t want anything from you

Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. Sometimes he’d bring you little nothings from his travels, but nothing notable or worthy of being a bargaining chip.

Nick: Just let me see you.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, his persistence was wearing you down. It’s a horrible thing to be lovesick for a man who gives you just enough slices of dopamine to make you forget why you were mad or cautious in the first place. It was toxic and thrilling all at once. It was nothing but lies – both from him and yourself. Your heart was beginning to feed you false truths like: he could just come over, you’d call him on his bullshit and let him leave without him getting to you.

You gave into him, like you always did.

You: Fine. But you leave when I tell you to. Nick: No problem. See you in an hour.

You mentally scolded yourself, but you couldn’t help but feel the flurry of butterflies running rampant in your stomach.

After a while, you checked the time and noted that about an hour and a half had passed. Fear and disappointment trickled down your spine at the idea that he might not even show up after you gave into him like a fool. It made you sick to your stomach even though it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that.

About 10 minutes later you heard a knock at the door and adrenaline spiked in your bloodstream. You took a look in your full-length mirror and smoothed out your silhouette. While you fed yourself the lie that nothing was going to happen, your hands chose a flowy sundress that laid mid-thigh.

When you opened your door, you were met with Nick in comfy clothes, clearly fresh from off the tour bus. As indifferent as you should’ve been, you couldn’t help but take notice of how good he looked with his hair up in a messy bun. Still, just the sight of him felt like a dagger through your already bleeding heart. It was a torturous duplicity being so in love with him, yet so heartbroken from just looking at him. All the work you did to suppress and heal your wounds crashed back down to square one. The second he spoke you knew you’d made a horrible mistake.

“Hey.” He smiled and you could tell he suppressed a smirk.

“Hey.” You replied flatly. Your resiliency was already begging to falter. You hadn’t heard his voice in months, and it stirred something in you – something both vicious and compelling. You came to realize that this was a dangerous game you chose to play.

His eyes fluttered down your frame, soaking in the vision of you completely. “You look,” He paused, and you expected something vulgar, but he surprised you. “Fantastic.”

A peachy hue grew on the tops of your cheeks at the compliment, and you silently reprimanded yourself for letting him get to you already.

He stepped closer to you, brushing your hair just behind your bare shoulder to admire you fully. “All this for me?”

And just like that, the flutter in your stomach fell along with the edges of your lips. Your eyes begged to roll at the question, but you restrained it to just a scowl. “What are you doing here, Nick?”

“To see you silly.” He said nonchalantly while his crystal eyes held something more you couldn’t place – it was like a glint of something deeper than he was letting on. “Now let me in, won’t you?”

You sighed and stepped aside to let him past you. “You said you wanted to talk?” You pressed against the door to close it behind you. When it clicked into place you rested flat against it with your arms crossed.

His head tilted around the small space to take it in, even though it wasn’t drastically different, any remanence of him was gone. Then, he met your eyes again to answer your question. “That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?”

You groaned, unraveling your arms to ball your fists at your sides. “You’re so fucking infuriating.”

So much for keeping your cool.

He huffed out a maddening laugh. “All worked up, are we? Must’ve been really frustrated while I was gone.”

“Actually, it’s been real fucking peaceful.” Your arms crossed back over your chest. “What do you want, Nicholas?”

“I wanted to see you.” He said earnestly, this time with less smugness to it. “And to give you this.” His arm went behind himself and into his back pocket only to pull out a palm-sized stuffed black cat. He held the sitting stuffie in his hand on display.

Your heart sunk the second your eyes landed on the stuffed toy. Both anger and heartache bubbled into your stomach, into your veins and all across your skin. Your shoulder muscles stiffened reflexively. “Why the fuck would you bring me that?”

The truth was that the cat contained more than just stuffing – it represented a past floating idea of a shared black cat between you. Whenever you two were at your best, you discussed adopting one together. You’d keep it at your place since he’s so often away from home, but it would be shared nonetheless. It never happened of course, but there he was holding a physical placeholder for it.

“I saw it and thought of you.” He said infuriatingly nonchalant, though you couldn’t tell if the ignorance was genuine or not.

You crossed the threshold between you and snatched the stuffie from his hand. You squeezed it by its sides in front of his face, “This is cruel, and you know it.”

While you were fuming, there was still a small pathetic part of you that swooned at the fact that he remembered such a small thing.

He reached out to graze up your jaw to your chin. “Even when you’re pissed at me you’re beautiful.”

You smacked his hand away from you, not wanting anything to do with him or his dizzying games. “You are such a fucking prick, and you know it. You know what this little toy means to me, and it means nothing to you.” You nearly spat at him while you shoved a finger into his sternum.

He grasped your wrist, keeping it in place as he stepped forward. “Who said it doesn’t?”

The air between you seemed to dissipate, leaving your throat barren of oxygen. Yet, your self respect held strong against his convincing words. “You’re a liar. A cruel liar.”

He closed the gap between you further until his lips were hovering just above your own. “I’m not lying.” Your nose filled with his scent – peppery cologne, weed and beer. It wasn’t the most pleasant mixture of smells, but it was him and he was something you’d missed and longed for the past two months. His smell and his proximity had your chest swirling with love and desperation. You wanted – no – you needed him to be telling the truth this time. It had to be the truth.

“I’m not lying.” He replied softly with his eyes falling from your own to your lips then meeting your gaze once more. “Let me show you how honest I’m being.”

It wasn’t your smartest move, giving into him so effortlessly. He just made it so easy to believe anything that came out of his pretty mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time you fell for his tricks and unfortunately, something told you it wouldn’t be the last.

When your lips met, it was electric, sparking and hot. You weren’t sure if that was just what he’d always felt like or if it had just been months since he touched you last.

It didn’t take long before his fingers frantically tangled in your hair. You matched his energy, curling fists into the base of his bun. He stumbled you both back onto your couch with your lips glued to each other’s. The kiss was full of fire and pent-up tension.

You ended up with both knees on either side of his hips. Your lips landed on the spiderweb tattoo on his neck, immediately sucking at the ink. He let out a hiss at the intensity of your suction. Your hips swiveled over the bulge growing in his pants.

“Fuck.” He groaned and tugged at the hem of your dress, silently asking you to pull it off.

You detached from his neck briefly and yanked the sundress off your body tossing it on the floor. Before you could return to your spot on his neck, he grabbed your face to meet his lips again. It was messy with teeth clashing and hasty tongues fighting for dominance.

Your hands fumbled between your bodies to unzip his jeans to let him out. You wondered how he was even able to stay in his pants with his massive size when he was hard. You took him in one hand while the other stabilized you on his shoulder. He groaned into the kiss as you worked him in your hand.

His fingers curled tightly into your hair, “I need to fucking be inside you.” He all but growled.

You nodded quick and breathless, you needed just the same. You tugged away and spit multiple times onto his impressive size. It had been months since you’ve had him, there’s no way this wasn’t going to hurt.

You lifted on your knees, as much as you could, Nick helped by pushing your panties to the side and sliding his fingers up and down your folds.

“You’re so fucking wet for me.” His fingers dipped inside you, just a fingertip deep to gather some of your juices and used it to better coat your entrance. He paused and his brows furrowed a bit. With how full you felt with just one finger you could only imagine what he was thinking. “You’re going to need more prep than this for me.”

You whined, but you knew he was right. It had been so long since you’d taken him, and your cunt needed time to refamiliarize itself with his size.

Your hand never halted on his length, and it was obvious on his twisted features and his mouth slightly parted. No matter how angry you were at him, it didn’t take away from how pretty he looked when he was drunk off of you.

He pumped his finger slowly in and out of you just to set a pace before adding another. A small gasp fell from your lips at the addition and stilled all of your movements.

“Just relax baby,” He soothed, and you softened in his hold. “That’s it, let me take care of you.”

It was a weighty thing to ask of you, but your mind turned to mush the second his thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles on it. Your eyes rolled back, and your chest gave way to him. “Fuck, Nick.” You muttered out pathetically.

“I missed you.”

-was the last thing you expected to hear from him in that moment, but you were so lost in euphoria that you couldn’t wrap your head around it. “Mmmhm.” You hummed as your eyes fluttered closed. “Missed you too, Nicky.”

You were absolute putty in his hands, he knew exactly how to work you into whatever he wanted. You were easily pliable to him, and in that moment, he was grateful for it. He placed a soft kiss to your collarbone, then another at the base of your neck. “Missed me how, angel? Tell me.” He whispered, his voice low and crackly.

Your jaw fell slack when he added a third finger but you were so worked up that it hadn’t been that difficult. It still burned but the pleasure he was supplying to your clit was overshadowing any pain.

“Use your words, princess. Let me hear how much you missed me.” He was practically begging you for any morsel you’d give him. He’d never admit it but he was desperate for you too. “Tell me baby, did you touch yourself thinking about me?”

Your head lulled to the side, cascading your hair over your shoulder. “Uh huh.” Was all you could muster.

“Mmm. Like this?” His fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot that was rarely touched by you or anyone else.

You gasped at the feeling in tandem with his thumb on your clit. His fingers pulsed against the soft inner tissue in a rhythm that made your brain numb. It was a spot only he had ever really been able to reach, either with his fingers or his cock. He knew your body better than anyone else ever had and he was good at it.

A smirk played across his lips, evidently satisfied with your response. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The warning of an orgasm burned in the pit of your tummy, filling it with tingling warmth. It must’ve been all over your face because he caught on quickly. “Oh, what’s wrong? Is my pretty girl going to cum already?” He spoke smoothly up your neck while his fingers increased their speed ever so slightly, just enough to tip you over the edge.

You abruptly grabbed hold of his shoulder, squeezing it with every bit of strength inside you as your orgasm washed over you. The euphoria began just below your navel then spread electricity across your skin. You felt it everywhere, down to your fingers and your toes.

He let out a satisfied chuckle against your throat, “That’s my girl.” He praised and held you as your body began to collapse against him. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

When you were finally spent is when he really came to life.

“Fuck I need to taste you.” He exhaled and as soon as you nodded, he snatched you, holding you with both hands securely below your ass. He was in a frenzy, like a shark that just smelled blood. “I want to taste all of you, every bit of mess you just made.”

He hastily carried you over to the bed across the room in your small apartment. He laid you gently, but impatiently, on the edge of the bed with his lips planted on yours.

You barely had time to miss his lips before his tongue latched onto your clit and his fingers returned to their place inside you. He brought you back down to just two fingers in order to give you a bit of reprieve.

Your mouth immediately created an ‘O’ shape with wide eyes at the skill of his tongue. “O-Oh.”

He ate you hungrily as if he hadn’t had pussy in weeks which historically, when he’s off on tours, was quite the opposite. He gave you no time to get caught up in your thoughts with the way his tongue slithered ‘S’ motions from your clit to your entrance, then taking his time at your throbbing bud. He lapped up every bit of your orgasm, not wanting to leave anything behind. The feeling bloomed a sparking heat from the pit of your core to the rest of your body and you silently cursed him for making you feel so good.

When you glanced down you noticed that while he was bent eating you, his hand had been on his cock – gliding up and down swiftly and in rhythm with his fingers and tongue. You thought that might’ve been the hottest thing you’d ever seen, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of the way he couldn’t not touch himself while eating you.

You let out a tiny moan at the sensation of his tongue against your swollen clit. But god did he feel good. It had to have been his extensive body count that made him good in bed and while you didn’t like thinking about it, you were surely grateful for it in the moment. His tongue expertly spun around your nub with various patterns. You couldn’t help but wiggle around at the stimulation to which he hooked his arms around your thighs and brought you to the edge of the bed. His knees met the wood floors, his tongue never once wavering. When he pulled your bud into his mouth with a suck you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

You shook your head, while he felt amazing, you needed more. “I need your cock, Nick, please.” You begged, pathetically.

His lips curled into a smirk against your core, placing a soft kiss at your clit. “Whatever you wish, princess.”

Your heart swelled and your tummy swirled at the name, it was your favorite, and he knew it. You were convinced it was the best sound in the world when it fell from his lips.

He pressed kisses up until your mid torso before pulling away. You whined at the loss of contact, but you knew it was only for something better. You squirmed at the attention and parted your legs even further, wanting more.

“Look at you, all laid out for me.” He cooed, with his eyes wandering across your body trying to choose his favorite part of you. His fingers trailed up your thighs, taking his time to savor your skin. “Okay, now baby, take a deep breath for me, will you?”

You did as he instructed but your breath hitched in your throat as he slid his fingers inside you once more, this time adding a third finger again. It burned a bit, being stretched out that much, but you knew it had to be done in order to take him fully.

“Good girl.” He hummed as he began pumping his fingers in a slow pace. After some time familiarizing you with the span of his fingers, he decided he wanted to take it further. “Actually, can I have you a different way?”

You nodded, too fucked out to deny him of anything.

His hands were rough when he flipped you over onto your stomach. His pointer and ring fingers slid up, spreading your lips open to let the tip of his cock sit at your entrance. He leaned down to just beside the shell of your ear.

“I wanna hear how bad you want it.”

You let out a near guttural groan at the statement. You were clenching around nothing just at his proximity.

“Oh c’mon, I can feel how bad she wants me.”

“Please, please I need your fucking cock.” You begged.

He smirked against your skin, “Good girl.” His hips moved forward, slowly pushing himself into you. You could feel yourself parting around him painfully, even with the prep you did. Your hips stiffened up not quite remembering how to take him. He took his time, carefully moving deeper inside you.

“Now tell me baby,” He hummed, dipping his fingers down between you. His fingertips slid around his girth to feel where you and he became one. You wondered if he could feel the burn that he was causing. “Has anyone else touched this pretty pussy while I’ve been gone?”

The question caught you off guard, quite literally the last thing you ever thought he’d ask you in this situation. Your eyes instinctively wanted to widen but you squeezed them shut instead. Heat bloomed on your cheeks, but you hoped he didn’t notice.

“Oh, c’mon now, be honest.” He teased in a patronizing tone.

You swallowed all the saliva left in your mouth and pressed your lips shut tight. You knew you couldn’t lie to him, especially not in such a vulnerable position. The truth was that you tried any and everything to get him out of your mind - which landed you some vices in your time apart. You and Nick weren’t anything of substance, nothing official. You were sure Nick had to know since it had come up previously and he never seemed phased by it – you knew about his tour hookups, how would this be any different. Regardless, you had no idea why he was even bringing it up and wished he wouldn’t.

He didn’t seem to like your silent pause and halted his movements. “If you don’t answer I’ll stop.” He threatened.

You groaned in frustration and threw your head down into the mattress. “Fine, fine,” You spat out in defeat. “Yes. One.”

“Hmm.” He stretched out the noise to emphasize his disbelief. “I think you’re a poor liar.” His fingers grazed over your clit briefly, just to remind you what you were missing. “Don’t lie to me baby, you won’t like the outcome.”

You sighed, feeling defeated and helpless beneath him. “Two.” It was the honest truth. One of them he knew about, a long-time casual friends with benefits. The other, was a drunken mistake from the bar on a particularly lonely night.

He sheathed himself fully inside you, “Yeah I can tell.” He said in a pointed tone, and it caused your brows to furrow, wondering what exactly he meant by that. “Oh, don’t worry I don’t mean it that way.” His fingers trailed down your side to hook into your hip, pulling you flush against him. “I can tell by the way you’re trying to adjust to me.” His voice was smooth and deep. “Like your body got too comfortable with something less than me.” His hips shifted back just to fall back into you, hitting you right in the spot that made your stomach twist. It was painful but delicious, reminding you exactly why you’d made this mistake with him so many times. “Or is that what you prefer now?”

You shook your head quickly, you didn’t want anything other than him, you never had. As rocky as your relationship had been, Nick was always the one who owned your heart. It never for one second had been held by anyone other than him in the past couple years. It was sad how loyal you were to him when it was obvious that he never felt the same – at least not in a committed way. “No.” You breathed out. “I want you, Nick.” You looked over your shoulder to meet his eyes and they were filled with something that felt almost like jealousy, but you’d never known Nicholas to be jealous. He’d always been very fluid about your connection – always very clear about the openness of your relationship.

“Say it again.” He demanded while his hands held your hips in place as he slammed back into you in one swift move. His tip landed straight into your cervix, causing a jolt of pain up your spine.

“I want you, Nick.” You repeated with a strained voice.

He finally began a slow rhythm in and out of you, almost like a reward for listening to him. He reached forward and grasped your chin to get you to look back at him again. “Again.”

Your brows knitted at his request – it seemed almost cruel for him to have you repeat the obvious. “I want you.” You whispered. Tears began to well up in your eyes and you couldn’t tell if it was from your emotions or from the burn of him stretching you out. He squeezed your cheeks at the sight of your tears, silently asking you again. “I want you.” You squeaked out, trying to keep the tightness in your chest at bay. “I want you, I want you, I want you.” You repeated over and over, now letting tears flow freely down your cheeks. It bloomed an ache in your chest that you never wanted to feel in the middle of sex.

Suddenly, you felt him pull from you completely but before you got a chance to question it, he flipped you over onto your back. You were only vacant of him for a millisecond before he slid back into place between your legs. He hovered over you, his unraveled hair gathered onto one side of his head, brushing against your shoulder. “I don’t want you to ever question that again.”

“I never did.” You admitted embarrassingly quick. “What’s this about?” You questioned, wondering why you were having this conversation while he was still inside you. Though, he was never one to choose an appropriate time to talk about things.

“I missed you.” He repeated his statement from earlier that you were too fucked out to process. His voice was raspy with lust, but genuine. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You blinked up at him and shook your head, not wanting to get caught up in his empty promises. “Can we just talk about this later?” Although, the moment had already been squandered for you.

“No.” He continued his slow and steady pace while his eyes were set on yours. “I mean it. I want this. I want us.”

Your eyes grew wide in disbelief. You’d never heard him sound so serious about anything, nonetheless about you. “You do?”

“I’ve been an idiot. All I wanted to do was come home to you.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “And the idea of someone else touching you makes me sick. I’m selfish. I want you all to myself. I want you to be mine.”

“I’ve always been yours, Nick.” You whispered with brows curved up in sincerity. Even with flings and vices your heart never beat for anyone else, you could never love another – no matter how stupid it made you look. You were stuck on him whether you liked it or not. You’d always been his even when he wasn’t yours, even when he wanted nothing to do with you.

His grey eyes shifted between your glossy eyes trying to read your honesty. He said nothing more before uniting your lips into the deepest kiss you’d ever felt. Love was a whisper lingering on your tongue, but you knew tonight wasn’t the night for that. Passion quickly spread from your heated kiss to the speed of his hips. His thrusts were fast and hard, though they weren’t fueled by a promise of an orgasm but rather by a need to show you exactly how he felt. Your entire body bounced against his rough repetitions, and it was overwhelming in the best way.

His head fell into your neck, his heavy breaths against your sensitive skin sent tingles across your body. “You’re taking me so well.” He muttered below your ear. His hand found your leg and ran his fingers beneath it, pulling it up from behind your knee and bending it towards you as far as it would allow. The new position spread you out even more and made sure you felt everything – the way the head of his cock embedded itself into your g-spot and the way your walls stretched around him. “Doesn’t that feel good baby, being so full?”

You let out a moan as your eyes rolled back. “Fuck yes.” It was the truth, no one ever filled you like he did.

“Uh-uh.” His hand grasped your cheeks. “Eyes on me.”

The sensations of everything were enough to fill your clit with buzzing need and you gasped when his thumb found it. Your eyes widened as he began rolling small circles into it in time with his quick pace.

“Oh-oh.” You stuttered out pathetically as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten, threatening to snap already.

“Take your time baby, there’s no rush.” He soothed but it only accelerated your already impending orgasm. Your fingers curled into his arms harshly, surely hard enough to leave half-moon imprints into his skin. “Oh, I know, I know.” He comforted.

That’s all it took to unravel you. Tingly warmth spread across your body, making every inch of you feel blissful. It was enough to temporarily blind your vision as you got lost in the immense pleasure that was overtaking your entire being.

“That’s it angel, just like that. I want all of it.” He said softly below your ear, but it was clear with the shakiness of his own voice that he was close too.

His speed became rapid and erratic as he sensed you reaching the height of your peak. “Fuck.” He murmured into your neck as he slammed his hips into yours faster than you could process. “Fuck I’m gonna cum.”

All you did in response was cross your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper. It didn’t take long for him to meet you in your climax. You felt his cock twitch and pulse inside of you followed by warmth pooling in the deepest part of you.

When the moment was over, Nick took his time, tenderly ensuring you were both clean and comfortable. Aftercare was something he never skipped, but tonight, he seemed especially patient and tender. Once he’d helped you into your favorite pajamas and made a warm cup of tea, he pulled you gently into his side.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” he said, peering down at you with a sincerity that made your heart ache.

You gave him a small knowing nod, too spent to say more. Curled against his side, a quiet apprehension settled over you, memories of past mistakes lingered softly at the edges of your mind. He was the last person you should trust, but your heart couldn’t summon the strength to turn him away. So, you chose to believe in him once more, silently hoping this time would be different and that his words were true. As he held you tighter than ever, your choice felt right. Finally, he was yours, and you were his.

A/N; thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts<3

Taglist; @measuredingold @ladyveronikawrites @deathblacksmoke @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning

#bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #nick ruffilo fanfic #nick ruffilo fic #nick ruffilo fanfiction #bad omens rpf #bad omens smut #nick ruffilo smut #nicholas ruffilo smut

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barcaracing · 1 year ago

Text

you’re wearing his kit pt. 2 | pg8

summary: pedri and y/n go public with their relationship and it doesn't take long before the media digs up her past with another barcelona player whose name happens to be on the back of her kit in one photo

pairing: pedri x reader ft. platonic!gavi

warnings: angst, fluff, language

a:n: here’s part two to you’re wearing his kit! it's been sitting in my drafts for FAR too long bc i couldn't figure out the ending, but i’m so excited to see what u think. it’s a lot. in every way. 6k words from my family to yours. enjoy!!

*******

"You're not Aurora," you say, frowning. The person on the other side of the threshold gives a small smile. He inclines his head a little as if he was caught in the act and stares at you almost shyly through his lashes.

"Sorry to disappoint. Some people say we have the same nose if that's any consolation."

You lean against the door frame and arch an eyebrow. "You do not have the same nose."

He tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shrugs. "I don’t see it either but it’s what they say."

"Well, if that’s what they say," you drawl and cross your arms in front of your chest. You both fall silent, glancing around awkwardly as you wait for the other person to speak first. To no one’s surprise, it ends up being you.

"Pablo?"

He meets your gaze with a questioning look.

"What are you doing here?"

He fiddles with his sleeves and shifts his weight from one leg to the other, practically squirming.

"And where's your sister?" You glance behind him. "She said she would pick me up at noon. It’s 12:30 and you’re obviously not her."

"No," he says, "but the nose—"

"Gavi."

He loosens a breath. "I wanted to talk to you, but you didn’t return any of my calls or texts. You even ignored the spam mails I sent you." He narrows his eyes accusingly. "I expected better from my mystery lover."

You make a face. "Mystery lover?"

"One of the nicknames the press calls you." He grins. "I also like Gavi's Kitmate and Number-Swapping Seductress. But my favourite is the Jersey Juggler. It's hilarious."

"It's mortifying," you say, sounding as exasperated as you feel.

Grimacing, you push yourself off the door frame and consider the brown-haired boy before you. He keeps fidgeting and it’s starting to make you feel nervous as well. You sigh. “Fine,” you say, nudging the door open with your foot. "Come in."

Gavi's eyebrows shoot up. He’s quick to enter your flat without question, kicking off his shoes and tailing you into the kitchen where he heads straight for the fridge.

"I'm glad you let me in." He scans the content and picks up a container with leftovers to smell it. "Your neighbours probably thought I was harassing you." He puts the lid back on with a grimace and rummages through the rest of your food.

"You were harassing me," you say, hopping onto the kitchen counter next to the fridge. You watch him pop a grape into his mouth before taking out the entire bowl and two water bottles. He places one of them next to your legs, which are propped on the kitchen island, then sits on it and opens the other bottle to take a sip.

"So," Gavi says, balancing the bowl of grapes on his legs as he settles his feet beside you on the counter. "How have you been?"

Your head falls back against the cupboard and you stare up at the ceiling. "I was looking forward to seeing Aurora again. We wanted to grab some food before our flight later, but you know how that worked out."

Gavi hums. "You know, it still weirds me out that you're friends with my sister when I knew you first."

Your lips twitch. "You're aware we can have other friends besides each other, right?"

"Have some faith." He snorts. "I’m fully aware that you're dating my best friend and teammate."

His eyes widen.

He clamps his mouth into a thin line and shifts awkwardly. "Sorry," he mutters. "I wanted to ease into that a lot smoother but, er, yeah. I don’t think it worked."

"It's fine," you say half-heartedly, choosing to ignore how your chest rapidly fills with anxiety. "I appreciate the effort."

"How have you been dealing with that?" He twists the bottle between his palms, looking at you carefully. You really do appreciate how he powers through this. Gavi has never been much of a talker. If it was up to him, he would rather just give you a hug and offer you gum.

Still, you can't bring yourself to meet his effort with an answer, so you raise your shoulder in a weak shrug. There's not much that comes to mind. These past few days have bled into each other until all you can recall are tear-stained pillows and stuffing almost everything you own into a box in your closet because they remind you of Pedri.

"I haven't really dealt with it, I guess."

"You haven't?" Gavi looks surprised.

"No." You frown, staring at your socks. "I don't even know what’s left to deal with."

You hate how fragile you sound. You especially hate how every word holds some truth that you’ve been avoiding with every fibre in your body. The uncertainty is crushing you. There is no more of the anger and frustration that gripped each nerve of yours after you had left Pedri's flat.

It only flared up again when you saw the video of him accepting the girl's number. For days, all you could see was red. You felt betrayed and hurt. God, so hurt. You haven't let yourself truly think about it because the moment you do, it will turn into grief and that's the last thing you want.

You know grief is just love that no longer has a place to go, but you don’t want to carry that with you. You won't mourn anything yet. Not before someone calls an end to this relationship. That's the least Pedri can do.

"I don't know what happened between you, but I can piece it together seeing how he hasn't talked to me in days. Hasn't talked much to anyone during practice, to be honest. He also keeps losing every rondo." He scratches his jaw in deep thought. "I didn't even know that was possible for a midfielder. He also looks like shit if that makes you feel any better."

It doesn't, you think miserably to yourself. You shake your head. "I’d hate for him to play badly because of me. I still want Spain to win tomorrow, you know.” You knock your legs into his with a small smile. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be in Málaga?”

Gavi bumps his legs into yours as well. “Ansu’s covering for me. They probably think I’m in my hotel room, resting like a saint.”

“You’re insane,” you say because he is. “Aurora knows?”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Knows that I’m insane? Hopefully. I’ve got it from her.” You roll your eyes and stretch out your hand, asking for some grapes. He dumps a few in your palm. “She knows I’m here, yes. I’m actually here to pick you up for your flight. She’s already in Málaga.”

“What?” The grape nearly falls out of your mouth. “Why?”

Gavi shrugs. “Didn’t say, but she probably knew that you needed someone to talk to and that it should probably be me.”

“That’s betrayal,” you say, completely fond of her.

He hums. “She also wanted to make sure that you still come to the match and she knew you could never say no to me.”

“That’s not true,” you sputter, although it is, sadly, very true.

Gavi knows that as well, so he just grins like the idiot he is. His smile lingers and for a moment, you’re just looking at each other.

Beach strolls in the winter and kicking a ball around on a random pitch at midnight come to mind when you look at the familiar brown of his eyes. You’re grateful to have a friend like him. His presence is comforting. But it doesn’t take long for the air to grow thick. His gaze drifts to his lap.

“Remind me again why we were never together,” he says jokingly, but his voice is gentle and earnest and it doesn’t quite feel like he’s teasing.

You let the last grape roll around in your palm as you think about his question. “We went on one date and it was the most awful thing that ever happened to us.”

“Right.” Gavi chuckles, delighted by the memory of you two sitting in a stuffy restaurant, talking about things that you already knew about each other.

You laugh softly. “We were awkward, bored, and sick of each other after 10 minutes. At some point, I considered climbing out the window while you ripped every napkin they gave you to shreds because you couldn’t stop fidgeting. So we just promised to stay friends. Very wise decision.”

“Wise beyond our years,” Gavi agrees. “No offence, but I nearly puked that night from how wrong it felt to be on a date with you. If I learned anything, it’s that some people are just meant to be friends.”

You nod, smiling easily. “At least we got that part down.”

He winks and offers you another handful of grapes. “We make a good pair. Completely platonic pair.”

You hum supportively and pick at your grapes. You sit in comfortable silence as you eat. Then he clears his throat and you find him already looking at you.

“It is, right?” He asks carefully, adjusting the bowl in his lap. “Completely platonic, I mean.”

You blink at him. “Are you joking?”

“I–“ He clears his throat again. “I’m just wondering.”

“Oh my God, Gavi.” You stare at him in disbelief before aiming a grape at his face. He swats it away. Couldn’t even have the decency to let it hit him.

“Of course, it’s completely platonic! I haven’t felt anything for you since that cursed day.” He nods to himself and exhales in relief, prompting you to narrow your eyes. “Except maybe disgust and intense dislike like right now. I can’t believe you asked me that when I have a boyfriend.”

“Sorry, I was just—” He holds up his hands when you chuck another grape at him. It bounces off his chest. “I just needed to make sure we’re on the same page here because someone clearly thinks we aren’t. Again, I have no idea what happened. I’m just here to feed you and get you on a plane.”

"Not doing the best job, are you?" You hold up the grapes and fix him with a look.

“We'll get something to eat on our way there.” He shrugs and sets the bowl aside, running a hand through his hair multiple times, obviously wanting to say more. Gavi’s eyes drift to the ceiling. He closes them with an exhale.

"I just need to know that you weren't fighting because of me. I really did like you for some time, Y/N, and I know it was reciprocated, but that was a long time ago and before we realised we'd never be anything more than friends. When Pedri asked you to be his girlfriend, I saw how happy he made you and I just knew no one would ever come between you. I'd really, really hate for that person to be me.”

You gawk at him. This is the most honest and rambly you have ever heard him, and you can't put into words how much that means to you. But you won't even have to do that because the great thing about Pablo Páez Gavira is that you don't need words to talk.

All you have to do is slide down the counter and sit beside him on the kitchen island. You lay your head on his shoulder and feel him wrap an arm around you, squeezing once before letting go.

"It wasn't your fault," you say quietly into the room, prompting Gavi to glance at you. "You did nothing wrong. Pedri just...there are some things we need to talk about, but we'll be fine, I think." You cringe inwardly at how unsure you sound. Gavi arches his brows in a way that tells you he heard it too.

He knocks his shoulder into yours and cracks a smile. "Very convincing. Now tell me what happened because I can't think of any more ways to make you understand that I don't know—"

"What happened. Got it," you say, rolling your eyes playfully. It wasn't your intention to keep this from Gavi. It's just that you haven't told anyone anything yet. In retrospect, you haven't really spoken much at all these past few days. So when you do, it feels relieving. The words simply tumble out of your mouth without any order or purpose, and you let them carry you through the events that took place almost two weeks ago.

How Pedri posted a beach selfie of you grinning into the camera with him sitting behind, arms wrapped around you and pressing a kiss into your shoulder. How he tagged you in the photo and threw his phone across the room in a panic only to walk back over to delete the app and turn off all notifications before pulling you close by the waist, spinning around the room, laughing. How liberating, nerve-wracking, and terrifying it felt to have the world know of something so precious and lovely and only meant for you two.

You don't realise you've been smiling the entire time until your face gradually drops and you start talking about the moment where everything went wrong.

How you wanted to scream and rip your hair out when Pedri and Fer looked at you like you were a stranger, but you still had no clue what had happened. How you felt betrayed and hurt that your own boyfriend didn't trust you and never gave you the chance to explain, making you feel helpless because you saw how hurt he was, but there was nothing you could do except let him try to inflict the same pain by flinging words at you that still clawed holes into your chest.

By the time you're done, Gavi is visibly simmering and you have to call his name twice before he snaps out of it.

"I’ll talk to him," he promises, his voice unusually hard.

"Okay?" You say, taken aback. "And what are you going to say?”

-✩-

"You're a dickhead, you know that?" Gavi slams the door behind him. He locks it, then strides into the dressing room, stopping a few steps away from Pedri who's sitting on a bench and taking off his cleats, barely reacting to his teammate's entrance.

"Still not talking to me." Gavi huffs, throwing his hands in the air. "Of course, you aren't. And here I thought I got lucky after you knocked me over right in front of Xavi. A real gem you are, by the way."

Pedri keeps his gaze on his shoes as he unties them—or rather yanks on the laces with a lot more force than necessary. Gavi watches him manhandle his footwear a moment longer before his patience runs thin. He snatches the shoe from his hand and casts it aside.

Pedri's head snaps up. He narrows his eyes at him, then turns around to toss the other shoe into his locker. While going through his stuff, he shakes his head and mutters, "Unbelievable."

Gavi glares at the back of his head. He's got to be kidding. One word. That's all he gets after nearly two weeks of silence. One word mumbled under his breath. Oh, he really is a dickhead.

"What is?" Gavi snaps, sounding as irritated as he feels. "Just fucking talk to me. I'm so sick of—"

"You ran into me five times today!" Pedri cuts him off, spinning around. "Five times in a 40 min practice session. You know that’s insane, right?”

Gavi halts.

He didn't really expect to get a response. But now that he got one, he realises that he'll just have to do anything to keep him talking. Easy enough.

He shrugs. "So what?"

Pedri blinks violently. "What do you mean so what? You just kept barreling into me like a mad person. Jordi wouldn’t even leave my side anymore after you tackled me to the ground."

Gavi coughs to conceal his laughter. Perhaps he did overdo it. He waves him off. "It's football."

Pedri stares at him in disbelief. "You shoved me over during recovery."

"Yes, well." He shrugs again. "Serves you right."

Pedri gapes at him. Then, he rolls his eyes and goes back to looking for something. "I don't have time for this."

Gavi swears his eye twitches. If there's anything that pisses him off more than being ignored, it's being dismissed. Especially by a teammate and friend. Apparently, he'll just have to drop right into it.

"We need to talk," he says firmly. Pedri simply takes off his training kit and puts on a fresh shirt, apparently back to ignoring Gavi who is close to strangling him. "Why haven't you apologised to Y/N yet?" He continues, and that seems to get Pedri's attention.

He stops, hand hovering at his locker. Gavi can practically see his brain short-circuit as his shoulders grow rigid with tension.

"What?" Pedri asks, gaze fixed on the locker door.

"You were an asshole to her and I refuse to believe you don't know that," he says, eyeing Pedri as he winces and stares down at his feet. At least he’s reacting to it. Gavi loosens a breath and takes a step forward. "I know you and I know her—"

"Seems like it," Pedri mumbles before shutting his locker.

"Look," Gavi says, treading carefully, "she told me what happened and it's shitty of you not to believe her, but I swear that nothing ever happened between us. We’ve always just been friends and you know that. Those pictures are old and she's only wearing my kit in them because I gave it to her, but—"

"You gave it to her?" Pedri looks up with a frown.

Something about his demeanour shifts. Gavi isn’t sure why but he gets the distinct feeling that whatever is approaching is important to him. It's huge. He's just missing some information on what it is. Pedri continues, "So she didn't buy it. That's your actual kit that you gave her and she wore?"

"Well," Gavi scratches his cheek, still failing to see the point. "Yeah? I don't understand—"

"You told me once that you'd only give your kit to the girl who would be it for you," Pedri says, his voice growing quiet as the room falls silent.

Gavi stiffens. There it is.

"You thought it'd bring bad luck if you didn't give it to the person you know you’d want to see wearing it for the rest of your life.” Pedri’s gaze is hazy as he’s recounting the memory. “You said it to me last year.”

Gavi stares at him, feeling stupid for not having seen it coming. It's ridiculous how he got blindsided. His mind is loud—a stark contrast to the deafening silence. It rings in his ears. All it takes is one look at his face before Pedri drops to the bench with his head in his hands. "So it's true."

"Pedri."

"I know I messed up, okay?" He runs his hands over his face and through his hair. "I know it. The way she looked at me broke my fucking heart, and it's been killing me that I did that to her."

Gavi decides to take a hesitant step forward. Every conversation he's had today didn't go as planned, so he's not certain about anything anymore. Less than he usually is with words, anyway. But something tells him that his best friend is about to spill his guts. He wants to be there for him. So he sits beside him and waits.

"I tried to call her," Pedri goes on quietly, eyes still fixed on the ground. "But it was only once and she didn’t pick up. And even if she did, I still have no clue what to tell her. I mean—I believe her. Of course, I do. I would trust her with my life, but I'm just…" Pedri bites his lip, brows knitted.

He sighs. "It hurts. It fucking hurts to see her wear your name and number, not caring that everyone can see it. But when I asked her if she wanted to wear my kit to a game, she said no. Every time. She gave her reasons, and I understand and respect them; told her it was fine, but what you said just kept repeating in my head and I thought, here I've found the person I want to see wearing my kit for the rest of my life and she doesn't want it." He looks away and swallows.

Gavi's heart breaks for him.

"She wanted yours. And now I find out you wanted her to have it as well." Pedri shakes his head. He finally looks up and meets his gaze. "Well, fuck, I want her to be happy, don’t I?"

The look in his eyes is devastating. Gavi furrows his brows and wracks his brain for the right words. Any words, really.

"Hermano, this is a conversation you should be having with Y/N," he mutters more to himself than to Pedri. He rubs the back of his neck. “I did say all that, yes, but I wasn't thinking of it when I gave her my kit. She went to a few matches with Aurora and wanted to support me as a friend."

Gavi pauses to think about how he can best put into words what he's about to say. The last thing he wants is to kick a guy who's already on the ground.

"I think some part of me liked seeing her in my kit," he says, carefully. "I guess I got used to it. But I never imagined actually seeing her wear it for the rest of our lives because I just never felt anything that intense for her. It was just a crush. A temporary thing. And whatever my feelings were, they disappeared anyway after that date we went on. You know the one we told you about that was so bad, Y/N considered never speaking to me again? That one."

When Pedri doesn't respond, Gavi adds, "Look, I know for a fact that Y/N doesn't have any feelings for me either, and that's exactly how we want it and how it's supposed to be."

Pedri fiddles with the hem of his shorts. "What makes you so sure?"

"The way she looks at you," Gavi answers right away. "She never looked at me that way. Anyone who has spent less than a minute with her knows she's in love with you."

Pedri stops fidgeting and Gavi swears he can see him blush. Finally, he meets his gaze. "I’m in love with her too."

"Of course, you are."

"I'm terrified."

Gavi can't help but snort. "Are you?"

Pedri's brows draw together.

"When you think of her, what do you feel?" He gives him a knowing look. "Because I don't think it's fear. And I think you know that as well. Don't lose her over this, Pedri. Don't lose her ever but especially not over this. You're good for each other."

Gavi is almost relieved to see him ponder his words. Gradually, his face clears and there's a small sparkle in his eyes that Gavi recognises from when Pedri sees an opportunity during a match. A space that holds endless potential and no matter what, he can't help but rush towards it. He can't even count how many times he has caught Pedri looking at you like that.

"I want her to be happy." He says it with so much conviction and finality that Gavi doesn't feel like it needs an answer.

"She is happy," he insists anyway and adds, "With you." Because he really is Cupid himself today.

Pedri nods, absent-minded, and rises to his feet to pace the room as he mumbles numbers to himself. Gavi watches in amusement as he gestures around, counting off things he's going to say and do. Finally, he comes to a halt and turns around, eyes twinkling.

"It takes less than two hours to get to Barcelona, right? If I leave now, I can make it back by 4. That's still 5 hours of sleep. It will only work if there's a flight leaving right now, but I'll make it. I have to. I'll probably be late for morning practice and it'll likely just be 4 hours of sleep, but it's fine because Norway—"

"Okay!" Gavi stands up, helplessly grinning. "None of that will be necessary."

Pedri frowns. "But I need to see her before the match or I’ll explode or score an own goal because my head’s a mess."

"That'd be embarrassing," Gavi says. "Especially in front of Y/N."

"What?" Pedri slowly shakes his head as if Gavi is the one who doesn’t understand. "I'm lucky if she'll ever want to see me again. I don't think she'll come all the way out here to watch a match if I'm playing in it. She wouldn’t."

"You're not wrong." Gavi chuckles. "But she promised Aurora she'll go with her to the game since my parents can't."

Pedri blinks, mouth opening and closing. "Oh."

"Exactly." Gavi’s cheeks hurt from how much he's smiling. "She's in Màlaga. Hotel room probably."

"Is it—"

"Yeah."

Pedri dashes off. Only to trip over his discarded shoe and go flailing to the ground. Gavi wheezes with laughter as he helps him up.

"My bad," he chokes out but Pedri barely even hears it, already out the door.

-✩-

"Oh," you say, staring at the hunched-over figure that just knocked on your door like the hotel was on fire and you were all going to die. "You're not Aurora either."

Pedri looks up and blinks through the sweat dripping from his forehead, gasping for air. "Huh?"

"Nothing," you mumble to yourself, "just mourning the fact that I'll apparently never see my friend again." You shake your head and shift on the spot. Pedri is still breathing heavily, hands resting on his knees and staring at you with a dazed look on his face.

His face is flushed the way it is when he plays football and somehow that just seems especially cruel. Your mind is still trying to grasp that Pedri is standing in front of you. Here. Right at your door. You were actually delusional enough to think that you’d somehow be able to avoid him.

Now, all you can think about is how the pink of his cheeks brings out his cheekbones and how his damp hair curls at the front and clings to his forehead. He looks really, really lovely.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to look away. That seems to shake him out of whatever stupor he was in as well.

"Alright," he stammers, nodding supportively although he has no idea what you're talking about. "I'm sure she'll come around."

Your lips twitch and Pedri's gaze drops almost reflexively. You can't help but look to the side, running a hand up your arm as he clears his throat.

"Sorry, er, I...actually don't know what to say." He straightens and rubs the back of his neck as though it just dawned on him. He smiles sheepishly. "All I could think about on my way here was that you're in Màlaga and how happy I was that you came because I am—happy about it, I mean. I should've thought about what I wanted to say because now I'm just rambling like an idiot but I'm just—I'm so happy. That you’re here. I'm really happy you're here."

You nod hesitantly, not sure how to respond. For some reason, you feel the need to say, "I'm here because of Aurora. She asked me to go to the match with her tomorrow."

Pedri's eyes flickers between yours before they widen. "Oh no, yeah, I know. I knew that. I wouldn't have assumed—I didn't think you came because of me."

You nod again. "Okay."

He looks around the hallway, apparently keen on basking in the awkwardness before his eyes meet yours, seeming almost shy. "Hey, er, can we talk?"

Something inside you rips. The emotional whiplash almost cuts off your airways. You feel blissfully relieved because, yes, of course, we can talk. Always. You've been waiting for this moment. You want this. But the other half is prickling with dread and anxiety about how this talk will end. You have the willpower of a divine being when you force yourself to answer with a steady voice.

"Sure."

God, you're strong. So strong.

Giving you a small smile, Pedri makes to enter your hotel room, but you shake your head and step forward, pulling the door close by a centimetre. "No, not in there."

Pedri steps back robotically, looking puzzled as he glances behind you through the crack of the door. "Er, okay, that's fine. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, it’s just—" You gesture aimlessly as if that would make him understand. "I just have to stay here for two more nights and depending on how this will go, I won't be able to put it all into a box. Since it's not my stuff," you add after a beat although that seems to only confuse him more.

"I'm sorry—what box?"

You wave him off and turn to grab the keycard before closing the door. "Doesn't matter. Do you know another place?"

Pedri blinks a few times. You can see him cast another confused look at the door before nodding. "Yeah, I know a place. Come on, I’ll show you."

He holds out his hand.

You look at it.

Before you can react, Pedri curses under his breath and retracts his hand, running it through his hair instead. "Sorry. Habit," he mutters, then turns around briskly, starting down the hall.

You follow without a word, not saying anything about how the tips of his ears are burning red. Or how he's walking around in training shorts and socks. You don't comment on his shirt that is inside out either.

You just keep your gaze ahead and focus on your heartbeat as it pounds like crazy. You barely even notice that you've arrived if it weren’t for the gust of wind that leaves a trail of goosebumps on your arms.

"The rooftop," you say, looking around. "Planning to push me off?"

"If you wish," he says. The ghost of a grin blooms on his lips. The wind blows again and you reflexively take a step forward to escape the cold. Distractedly, Pedri comes closer as well, his eyes on the sky above. "I don't think it's going to rain, but we can go inside if you want."

"I'm fine," you say, letting your gaze drift around. "The view is stunning."

"So are—" Pedri coughs. "So are the clouds."

"Hm?" You look up. "Oh yeah, they're pretty." A soft smile settles on your lips as you squint at the clouds, trying to make out any shapes. You can feel his eyes on you, and you try very hard not to think about how that makes you feel.

"Do you want to sit?" He eventually asks in a gentle tone. You tear your gaze away and nod, following him to the edge of the roof.

"So," Pedri starts once you're sat beside each other, legs dangling above the streets below. "I'm a dickhead."

"No, you're not," you mumble, eyes set on the view ahead. "It takes a lot to be a dickhead. You're just an idiot."

He gives a quiet laugh. "I'm serious."

"I thought you were a dickhead."

"I can be both," he says, gaze still locked onto the side of your face. "Look, I want to apologise—which I should've done weeks ago."

You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze, but he doesn't seem to mind. "I know it wasn't fair of me to say those awful things to you and then not let you explain, but I did it anyway and I have never regretted anything more. I hate that I wanted to hurt you. And I really hate that I'm capable of it, but I need you to know that I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry."

You let his words linger between you. Taking a deep breath, you shift your gaze. The look in his eyes almost catches you off-guard. It's sincere and bare.

"You don't have to accept my apology right now," he goes on, "but I know a lot of things were left unsaid that day, so you can say them now and I'll listen. Yell at me if you want. Honestly, shove me off this building, I won't judge."

A smile tugs on your lips.

"Can't kill you now," you say, "still got a game to play." The corners of his eyes crinkle as he chuckles. You missed that sound. Pulling your legs up to your chest, you lean your cheek on your knee and lose yourself in his eyes. For a moment, it's quiet. There are cars below and birds above, but there's also quiet. Serene. Softly, you say, "You really hurt me, Pedro."

He nods slightly and adjusts his body so that he's fully facing you.

"I've never seen you get so mad before," you continue. "You barely lose your temper when you get a yellow card, but you did over those pictures and I just don't understand." You shake your head. "I know you get jealous sometimes but not like that. Not over Gavi. I've told you everything you wanted to know about our friendship, and you said you didn't mind any of it. You said you liked how close we are and that you trusted me."

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I want to know why you stopped. I know there's more to it than just me wearing Gavi's kit and I've been trying to figure it out every day because I keep thinking it must be something big and awful in order for you to just leave me." Your voice cracks. Your vision blurs and in the back of your mind, you know you're tipping over and you should probably reel it back but honestly? You don't want to.

"I want to accept your apology, I really do. I missed you so much, Pedri. So fucking much." He opens his mouth to respond before thinking better of it. You're grateful for it because you don’t doubt for a second that you’ll simply break down if he says it back. "But you hurt me so much more than that. You left me."

The words feel like venom on your tongue and by the look on Pedri's face, they burn like it too. "You know I was terrified of making our relationship public. There's nothing more terrifying to me than attention on that scale, but you said it would be fine and people could say whatever they wanted because you'll be by my side. Well, it happened. We did it. People said horrible things to me; to my friends and family. And you weren't there."

Pedri closes his eyes briefly, sucking in a sharp breath. You almost want to take it back and tell him it's not that big of a deal because you know you were close to mending things, but you feel so much lighter now that it's out. That has to count for something.

You feel fingertips brush your cheek. Dazed, you realise that Pedri has come closer to wipe away a tear you didn't even know was there. You don't lean into his palm and he doesn't let it linger either. Instead, he holds it out in front of you. Hesitantly, you reach out. The tips of your fingers graze the inside of his hand. His hand closes, gently holding onto yours.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I really am." He holds your gaze even if his voice cracks. "You're right, I shouldn't have left you alone after convincing you to go public. I was horrified and ashamed of what I did and said just to hurt you in the same way I felt hurt. I couldn't bring myself to face you afterwards. I know it's not an excuse, but you deserve an explanation."

He takes a deep breath and squeezes your hand, seemingly without meaning to.

"A while ago, Gavi said something to me that kept bothering me. It crossed my mind every now and then when we talked about posting that photo, but it only really hit me when I saw those pictures and articles. That's when it became real and I guess I took it as confirmation of something I've always been insecure of." Pedri falters and looks to the side.

When you don’t respond, he quietly explains, "Gavi said he'd only give his kit to the person he knew he wanted to see wearing it for the rest of his life. That having anyone else wear it to matches would bring bad luck, so he’s waiting for the right person."

You stare at him.

Slowly loosening a breath you didn't know you were holding, you try to find your voice. "He said that?"

Pedri nods. You can feel him loosen his grip on your hand.

"Okay," you say, shaking your head to clear your mind. "Alright then."

You pull your hand back and let it fall into your lap, biting back a scoff. "You really are a dickhead."

*********

okokok i know u probably hate me rn, but i promise there's a part three :)) i wouldn't just leave u hanging like that lol i just wanted to get this out sooner than later and tbh there's still so much missing. the grovelling! the anger! the grovelling, people!!! anyway, feel free to leave some feedback, so i know if anyone even wants a third part. stay hydrated guys x

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