#I’m just thinking of them again and the self indulgent part of me wonders what it would be like if they met like maybe after Mal died idk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

uplatterme · 1 year

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playing dangerous.

—this has been rotting in my google docs for a while but i finally finished it, thank god. i also got too into this omg, very self indulgent.

—sub!bottom!heizou/dom!top!reader, amab!reader (no gendered terms or pronouns) | yandere!reader/obsessive!reader, handcuffs on reader, blowjob (chara!receiving), dumbification, degradation, breeding, overstimulation, belly bulge

The incidents happened a month ago. A rise of crimes within Inazuma right after the Vision Hunt Decree was deemed no more. Of course, it would make sense for there to be riots as lots of lives were lost and ruined. And while that should be the most logical answer, the Detective certainly doesn’t think the same way…

There was something strange about these cases, something that he just can’t put his finger on.

His wall is plastered with different clues and yet none of them seemed to connect, except for the fact that they were always done on a Sunday.

That would usually be his day off but because of these incidents, he has been staying far longer in his office than he should be. All he does is pace around his room, annoyed that this was happening.

The incidents were too far from each other. Arson, Robbery, Trespassing, Blackmailing…

He reads the letter again from the latest case. It is nothing to note off, just a few words of threat.

Perhaps he should get the handwriting examined, see if it matches with anyone. Unfortunately, that would take too long. Who knows what would have happened by then?

He drops the letter, ready to move on to another piece of evidence when he feels something strange.

Heizou stares at his fingers. “Wax?”

A part of the letter is covered in waxy material. He smells to check, to see if it is wax.

The letter surprisingly smells of cherry.

“What?”

Why would a letter threatening someone that they’ll kill them if they say anything smells of cherry?

He eyes it in confusion.

The detective leaves his room, wanting a second opinion from someone. Someone who can answer this for him, preferably.

He grabs the first person he sees, urging them to come with him. They immediately follow, already used to the detective’s usual quirkiness. He’s the one who earns the station their meal tickets, so they don’t really find themselves complaining.

They are in awe at the state of his room. “Detective? Is something wrong?”

He holds the letter up. “Can you smell this?”

The worker stares at it before hesitantly taking the object. “It’s sweet.”

Heizou hums.

“Right. Do you have any idea what that may be? It seems to be a wax of some sort, from a candle maybe?” He deduces.

“Pardon me, sir. But I don’t think it’s from a candle.”

“Oh, is that so?” He lets them continue.

They nod. “It’s uh, an ointment. A new one. I think this brand is really popular.”

An ointment? Does that mean that the perpetrator got injured from one of their crimes?

“What’s the ointment for?”

“It’s a…beautification product. The ointment prevents dry lips, keeps them plump.”

“Huh.” Heizou says, stunned.

He did not expect that at all.

“Is that all detective? Shall I go now?”

“Yes, you may leave.”

That…just brings more questions unanswered. Was this whole thing planned? Did they plan for him to notice this clue or was this just an accident? If it wasn’t, then why? What’s the purpose of the letter being tainted with the ointment?

This was turning out more annoying than it should be.

Another Sunday, another crime.

Heizou hasn’t left his office despite it being his day off, knowing that he’ll be called once again if something happens.

He sits with his feet both up on the table, waiting.

Once the door slides open, he immediately stands up, wondering what he’ll face today. Will it be a repeat of the previous crimes? New ones? Or perhaps, they’d finally gone out of their way to take someone else’s life.

“Detective. Is something wrong?”

“No? I’m quite fine.” Heizou responds, confused by the accusation.

“You were smiling, so…”

The detective bites his cheek. He shouldn’t be enjoying this, and yet…

It’s been a while since he’s been faced with such a challenge. He can’t wait to unravel this piece by piece.

“Poison? That’s a new one.” Heizou checks the scene, seeing the mess that unfolded. There was dried blood on the floor, something that the victim coughed up.

Close.

They were just tipping over the line of possibly killing someone. If help wasn’t called, he probably would have died. It’s lucky that the victim is only suffering from a bruised throat.

He’d want to ask them questions but since that victim is in a comatose, he can’t exactly do that.

“Where’s that person who called for help?” Heizou asks.

He’s brought to the residence next door. He reads the name outside and finds that he has never once crossed that name in his investigations. That kind of thing is rare. Almost everyone has some kind of dirt relating to them. So it’s either that this person is as innocent as they come, or…

Once he knocks on the door, the person on the other side is quick to respond.

“Yes?” You answer.

“I’m here to ask a few questions? You are aware of what happened, yes? Since you’re the one who called for us here.” Heizou states.

He waits for an answer from you, only to receive none.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“Is there a need for this? I assure you I haven’t done anything.” You say.

“Just making sure, we all do this with the people involved in these incidents.” He explains.

“If that’s the case…you may take your time.” You tell him, smiling at the detective and letting him inside your residence.

Heizou searches your place and he finds…nothing. Everything is clean. Not a trace of anything suspicious.

What’s strange instead, is your behavior.

He notices how you watch every single move he makes, eyeing him up and down. Perhaps you were merely curious. Otherwise, he isn’t sure why you’d do such a thing.

“I’m not your suspect, am I?” You ask.

Truthfully, you were far from it. You saved the victim’s life unintentionally.

“What is it that you work again?” Heizou knows but he asks anyway, seeing if you’ll slip up.

“I’m a writer. I write mostly romance novels, I assume you aren’t familiar with my name? After all, I’m sure the great Shikanoin Heizou has experience with romance in real life that he doesn’t need to turn to fiction, no?” He irks his tongue, knowing that you were only complimenting him. However, that with the way you look at him seductively suggests another thing.

That you were flirting.

He takes the bait and bites back, smiling as he replies. “I haven’t heard. Would you mind giving an example of the things you write?”

You chuckle softly. “A sample, you say? Oh, you know. Just your usual flirtatious lines.”

“Like what?”

“I’m afraid they’re a bit too…provocative. I shouldn’t say such things when you’re working.” You admit, though he’s sure you’re only saying that to be polite.

“I can take it.” Heizou says.

“Can you, pretty boy? Are you sure I’m not too much to handle? Ah, why don’t you use those tight handcuffs of yours? I might be unable to keep my hands off you if you keep talking like that.”

The detective stills. He stares deep into your eyes, not expecting that. He stumbles a bit with his words, unsure of what to say. Heizou keeps his trembling fingers in his pockets, not wanting to seem as if he’s that easy to fluster, though that doesn’t shy away from the slight reddening of his cheeks.

“That’s…a good one.” He simply states, keeping his eyes on your soft lips.

“Is it, Mr. Shikanoin?”

He’s aware that you’re teasing him, he knows that it’s all for fun. Yet, that doesn’t stop the fastened rate of his heart.

Next thing he knows, his own hands are moving and he’s clasping the handcuffs around your wrists.

He drowns in the approval your eyes give him, letting him know that he’s doing such a good job.

“Oh? Have I done something wrong, Detective? Or is this also protocol?”

He nods.

“You’re under arrest…for stealing my heart.”

You laugh at his statement. “You’re so cheesy. Is this how you usually act with your suspects?”

“I…Hold on.”

He lets you go, continuing to search your house. There has to be something in here, it’s too suspicious that there’s nothing. He can’t have himself distracted by you toying with him like this.

Then, he spots something inside the bedroom. He didn’t notice it at first, thinking it was a picture frame because of the way that the bedside table was covering its bottom half but now that he realizes it, he’s sure that it’s a door.

“May I move this table?” He asks.

Heizou sees you grin. A grin that sends shivers down his spine. Was he onto something after all?

“Sure, the key’s inside the drawer.”

He opens the drawer and takes the key. He then shakily opens the door right after he removes the obstacle that is your bedside table.

Heizou doesn’t like how eerily silent you get, how you’ve bruised your bottom lip from biting too hard.

He almost hesitates to open the door, intimidated by what he’ll see inside. His fingers hold the key tightly, he breathes deeply and looks back at you.

You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly amused. “Scared?”

“Yes.” He admits.

“You shouldn’t. I’m the helpless one in handcuffs, not you.” You reassure him.

While he knows you’re right, there’s still an uneasiness in his chest.

“I-I suppose.”

Heizou turns the key, expecting a crime scene. He had his choices in his head. Maybe you kidnapped someone and put them in there. Or, a dead body rotting inside that you had no way to get rid of.

However, what he sees is something unexpected.

That’s because Shikanoin Heizou sees himself.

Newspapers about him solving different crimes, arranged from when he just started to his most recent one. Pictures of him were taken discreetly, some of them even being done while he was sleeping in his office. Paintings of him, strands of his hair, and clothes that he thought went missing. It was a collection. Sort of a shrine even, but the center of it all is him.

He turns back as he hears you snickering and he has never been this glad to put someone in handcuffs in advance.

“W-What is this?” He questions.

You stare at him, confused. A confused look on your face.

“My love for you.”

“Love.” He restates.

You smile widely. Too wide that he sees your gums. Heizou’s fight and flight senses were tingling but were left with one option when you close the door with your back.

He reassures himself that it’s fine. He has a vision, you’re in handcuffs. If things were to go out of hand, he’ll end up being the victor.

“I really wanted to kill that guy.” You tell him.

“That guy?”

You nod, tightening your fist. “He was insulting you. I wanted to rip his throat out, show him what he deserves for saying such things.”

Heizou continues for you. “But you didn’t.”

It’s stupid. You know he’s a detective and yet you’re telling him all of this, as if you’re certain that you’ll come out of this without any repercussions.

“I didn’t! I knew you’d hate me if I did.”

It slowly starts to click in his head. You wanted to see him in public during his day off, that’s why you always orchestrated it at the start of every week. The letter with the beautification product, you were probably kissing it while you wrote it, knowing it’ll land in his hands.

As he thinks, the detective gets occupied and doesn’t notice that he’s centimeters away from you.

“I like that.” You say.

“Huh?”

“You’re smiling.” You point out.

Heizou uncomfortably relishes that fact. This is the second time that he’s been told that.

He hates the fact that this whole mystery has brought him such great entertainment. He’s been so focused on dealing with political problems within Inazuma that a mystery just like this brings him that thrill that he’s longing for.

This is so much better than that.

He shouldn’t enjoy it, and yet here he is.

The little detective is caught off guard as your lips smash on his. He tastes the blood from your bruised lips, how you press your mouth, your tongue sliding inside. He’s dizzy, unable to figure out whether he’s starting to choke because of how you tickle the back of his throat with your tongue or due to the lack of air.

He wants to escape, to take a breather. However, despite your hands being tied down, that doesn’t prevent you from putting pressure on his crotch to keep him still. Pleas escape from his mouth as you continue pressing down.

Heizou’s not fighting back and it stresses him. Instead, he takes your tongue so obediently as if he’s not the one who has the power to keep you locked up.

He pants as you separate from him, head buckling down and trying to focus on standing up. The fact that everything he sees is his face doesn’t help.

“Oh, I love you. I want to keep you all for myself.” Heizou sees the lovesick eyes that focus on him.

It amazes him how you’re able to handle him so easily.

You let your mouth do all the talking. Your tongue licks every sensitive part of his body, trailing saliva all over him.

“Haaa—Fuck~” He feels his knees weaken.

“Make more of those sounds, Heizou. Let me hear you more. More, more, more…”

Your insanity is nothing to laugh at, and yet he follows exactly what you say.

He pulls at your hair, tugging at your scalp as feels the same tongue on his shaft. He cannot stand up for long, whimpering with each and slow agonizing lick. He’s aware that you want to hear him beg, to scream out how much he needs you to cum.

He bears being on the edge…until he starts to get desperate.

“Please…!”

“Please, what?”

He’s too drunk on the feeling of being edged that he can barely answer, only a stuttering mess as his cock rests in your mouth.

“M-More…N-Need to cum!”

His back meets the wall as he tries to stay on balance, holding onto your head. He keeps mewling, forgetting the reason why he’s here in the first place.

“That’s right, baby. I won’t let your dick forget, make you unable to cum without me.”

He tilts his head back as he cums, sweet noises flooding your ears. His thighs shake and he’s this close to hitting the floor hard if not for your assistance. He lays meekly on the floor, white drenching his legs.

“Sweet detective, so fucked dumb. Here I thought you were a genius.”

“H-Hard again—Want to cum…” Heizou replies, showing off his ass while starting to get on all fours.

“You’re fucking your stalker. Such a pervert, aren’t you? Don’t tell me you’d let anyone get with you?”

Heizou whines as you say that. That’s not true at all, you just don’t understand. He wishes he could explain, but with the way he is right now, he doubts if that’ll be possible.

The noise that leaves Heizou’s mouth as you stretch his hole out and penetrate him is embarrassing. He sounds like an animal in heat like this is what he’s made for, to mate with your dick inside of him.

He quivers as he feels your hand on his back, pushing him down but in doing so, keeping his ass up as he pushes on his own deeper into you.

He breathes in between moans, your cock screwing into his walls while his cum spills easily on the floor.

“S-So good—C-Can’t think!”

“That’s right, squeeze your walls onto my cock. Remember my shape. You’ll be taking no one else’s but mine, my love.”

He thinks that you’re so vulgar with your words, your tone encourages Heizou into another orgasm.

He cries and shivers while he gets hit with it, his walls clenching tight.

Heizou’s body is so sensitive at this point, his body being as limp as it can be.

He flinches as you empty into him, your warmth dripping to his thighs since his tiny hole can’t take all of it.

He watches it in shame, wanting all of it, wanting every single drip to be contained inside of him. The look he gives is so seductive, it would put kitsunes to shame.

You thought of ending it but with that face he made, you reconsider this decision and flip him, having his face in front of you this time.

The detective doesn’t know what he’s just gotten himself into.

Heizou sees his own cum pool onto the ground, the tears blur his eyes, he can’t stop crying at how you pound so roughly into him.

He’s lost track of the time of how long he’s stayed in this god-forsaken room. The logical part of his brain should tell you to stop, if this keeps going on, he’ll for sure be unable to even walk himself to the bathroom. Unfortunately, his mouth says the complete opposite, blabbering and even encouraging you to keep going.

“Hmpf—! Cock—Too good!”

His nails grip the tatami as he cums again. He doesn’t know how he’s still able to go on when his clothes are soaked to the brim.

He hears you laugh again. “How about a change in profession? I heard the brothel’s hiring, detective.”

He understands you’re teasing. You would absolutely not let that happen, you would kill whoever lays their hands on Heizou.

For such a person with a small stature, he has quite the stamina and skill. He sheathes you in so easily, though of course, with the necessary moaning and gasping of your name. Not only that, he perfectly warms your cock like he’s been doing this for years.

“Shit. With how much cum you’re taking, I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn up pregnant.” You say, spreading his ass to see his beautiful hole leaking cum.

“Please…” He cries out.

“Hm?”

“Please do…”

It doesn’t take much to rile you up. It’s also very obvious that anything Heizou says, you will follow.

You slam hard into Heizou, each thrust has it that the detective’s insides are being flipped, his guts being adjusted just so he could take more and more of you.

He can see your cock’s shape in his belly, his thin figure doing nothing to hide it. It’s starting to round up due to his belly that’s filled with your cum. You keep fucking him hard, until your load spills inside his walls.

When Heizou wakes up, he realizes that he can’t move an inch. He’s clean, his clothes are changed and he smells good.

He’s in your bedroom. He concludes this because he sees a glimpse of your strange room filled with things of his. With the amount of time he’s spent in there, he gets light-headed even from just thinking about it.

The doorknob turns and he sees you come in, a bowl of warm noodles in your hands.

He blinks.

You’re not wearing the handcuffs.

He wonders how you got out and where you put them instead.

He looks down.

Heizou sighs.

#plattered writings #heizou x reader #dom reader #sub genshin impact #dom!reader #sub genshin #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #sub heizou #sub!heizou #heizou shikanoin

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cinnbar-bun · 5 months

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Ruler of the Heart (Crocodile x Reader)

Summary: Crocodile is not a man who gives up easily. He’s not someone who just submits to others. He has to be in control.

That is, except, when it involves you, in which he is a helpless victim to you.

AKA: Crocodile is a big softie for his wifey.

Notes: Female pronouns for reader, MENA! Crocodile, MENA! Reader

Rating: G

A/n: YEAH THIS ONE IS FOR ME <333 VERY SELF INDULGENT!!

Read on my AO3 here!

It doesn’t take much to make his eyes linger on you. Despite his stoic outer appearance, the ex-Warlord is hopelessly obsessed with you. All it takes is a snap of your finger and he immediately turns to you.

You are his oasis in the desert, the water that flows past his lips to save him from the overwhelming thirst he has. And to you, he is your king, your protector and provider who grants every wish of yours like a mythical genie.

His power, both physically and politically, is overwhelming and dominating. He doesn’t need to do much to make others comply. A simple command, a flick of his hand, and all issues crumble into dust.

But when it comes to matters concerning you, Crocodile can’t help but fall victim to you every time. From the dark, smokey eye makeup you wear, a bat of your lashes, or the pouting of your lips that are colored with the lipstick he purchased for you. From perfectly manicured nails, to gorgeous skin that glows from the oils you wanted, to the scent of oud in your hair from the bakhoor. You enchant him with your beauty, your voice, and your attitude.

Crocodile can’t help but think your attitude is the most beautiful part of you.

You walk like you’re a million dollars. Wherever you walk, everyone is immediately struck by you and your confidence. Your heels click against the floor as he stands beside you to purchase you another gold necklace for no reason other than he felt like. The grin on your lips is worth far more than the necklace he just bought you, he thinks.

You are so naturally charismatic and social, that others can’t help but be taken in with you. Crocodile, who wasn’t too fond of socializing, was taken aback by how you managed to make even Mihawk talk more during a meeting. But that’s just who you were. A laugh here, a silly anecdote there, and all were listening to you.

Crocodile also adored your loyalty. You’d go through hell if it meant saving him, and the thought warmed his heart in a way few things ever could. When other men tried to approach you, you blew them off with a snarky response and a show of your ring. When his colleagues or subordinates were pushing their luck, you stepped in to take control.

You were a true Warlord’s wife, in every sense of the word. You were the wife men could not even dare to dream of or even hope existed. You were his number one supporter, his partner, and closest, most trusted confidant.

But much like the ocean, while you were beautiful and strong, you also had your moments of devastation. Ah, you were passionate- but so, so jealous.

“Habibi, eyes over here,” you’d warn with that sickly saccharine tone of yours that meant he was pushing his luck. “Perhaps I should take those eyes of yours so they never wander again.”

Whether that was an empty threat or a promise didn’t matter- Crocodile loved it. “Ah… you know my eyes are only ever on you, my love. You already take my eyes,” he’d say the last part in his native tongue.

You were stubborn and didn’t take any disrespect- not even from him. Even when he was getting snappy, you never looked at him in fear or shrank back.

“I said-“ He snarled, raising his voice at you after a long day at work.

“No, no, no. Don’t raise your voice at me,” you cut him off with a wag of your finger.

“Don’t tell me what-“

“No. I’m not one of your men,” you placed your hands on your hips. “I did not marry you to be treated like your men. I’m your wife, not some servant.”

Well, he was angry at the time but he wondered if you knew how pretty you looked when you lectured him. He nodded, and then enveloped your smaller hand in his large, functional hand.

“I’m sorry, habibti,” he remorsefully said, kissing every knuckle on your hand. “I’m sorry. I was stressed.”

You kissed his nose back and ran a hand through his gelled, slick-back hair.

“We can talk about it over dinner.”

“Hm? What is for dinner?” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Kafta bil-sanieh. It needs a few more minutes to bake,” you say then kiss him back.

“Gods, I love you,” he sighed happily, before lifting you in his arms. You smirk.

“Then you’ll love what is for dessert.”

“Which is?”

“Basbousa~!”

His smile widens as he peppers your face with kisses.

“Your words are honey on my heart,” he chuckles, showering you in more affection.

“You’ll bury my heart,” you reply back, and he twirls you around like a lovesick teenager.

It is times like these where he can’t help but let his boyish feelings of love and affection come out. No matter how hard the day is, no matter how shitty his attitude, he was always ready to hold, spoil, and adore you. He loved and worshiped you on his knees as his queen. His beautiful, radiant queen who managed to reinvigorate his dried-up heart full of life.

His heart beat only for you, only knowing what love was because of you.

How you could so easily tug at his heartstrings like an oud. How you could make this invincible, stone-cold man melt with a simple touch or a smile. How you held his life in your hands, and how he happily let you do so. Only you were the one who could make him so weak and mushy as if he were a young man again.

But his favorite part of when you were together was at night.

At night, the scent of your perfume lingered in the air and on the sheets. He could only sit and marvel at you as you removed your jewelry and makeup from your face while in your nightgown. While to you, it was just a nightly routine, to him, it was like seeing a masterpiece being made. Your makeup was wiped off with a touch of rose water, and you made sure your hair was taken care of. You noticed his stare from the mirror.

“Yes, habibi?” You curiously asked.

“Nothing. I’m just looking at a treasure,” he responded, tapping his cigar on the ashtray on his bedside. He hears your satisfied chuckle.

“You flatter me too much.”

“I don’t think I flatter you enough,” he exhales a puff of smoke. “Words cannot do you justice. Even if I give you the world, it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Your smile is contagious, obviously enjoying his dramatic proclamations of his love for you. You finish with your routine and settle into bed, and he inhales the scent of your perfume.

You rest your head against his broad and muscular chest, and he leans down to kiss the top of your head. You’re careful to not irritate his left arm as you listen to the pounding of his heartbeat.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

The sounds that entered your bedroom from the window varied night by night. You’d commonly hear the winds blowing, with the leaves of the date palm tree rustling gently from it. Sometimes the chatter of people would make its way to you. But he could ignore those, in exchange for hearing your soft breaths as you slept. You looked so peaceful and happy when you fell asleep. You’d nuzzle closer to him, and he’d keep his arm tightly wrapped around you. He’d think to himself how he never thought he’d be here. You were never something he imagined would exist. But after you entered his life, you were his dream- his every fantasy made physical. From the best of times to the worst of times, you were there.

There would never be anyone else he’d rather serve as “husband” or “lover” to, than you. There would never be another who he could happily give his heart to and bow for. Only you. Because only you could ever be the ruler of his heart.

#one piece oneshots #one piece x reader #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #one piece

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randombush3 · 16 days

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a sense of coming home

ona batlle x reader

summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends

words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)

warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end

notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending

again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)

also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x

There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken?

Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible.

It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.

You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier.

Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.”

“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.”

You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?”

“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.”

“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.” You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.”

“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to.

“I am always on your side.”

That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be.

Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase.

However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.

…

The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted.

You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you.

Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.

You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad.

And… you, apparently.

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door.

Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.”

“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously.

“Of course.”

With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence.

Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft.

“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.”

“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?”

He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this.

Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration.

Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection?

But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor?

…

“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.

“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility.

“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.”

“Maybe she only likes men.”

“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.”

“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.”

…

You are more than a little confused.

To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend.

Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much.

Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you?

For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world.

It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar.

She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?”

You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.”

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.”

“I cried for months.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.”

She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes.

“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself.

Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.”

You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving.

Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said.

No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone.

“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.”

“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.”

“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy.

You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more.

Do you regret it?

It’s unclear.

You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here.

This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become.

As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.

It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date.

It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official.

You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face.

There are many reasons why you go out with him.

One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied.

He’s not Ona. You know that.

That's the whole point.

If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care.

But you just… don’t.

Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head.

You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself.

The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago.

Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them.

“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.”

“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday.

Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona.

“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger.

“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?”

Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country.

Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself.

“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.”

…

Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen.

It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited.

Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially.

Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming.

Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it.

It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun.

Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced.

By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything.

It won’t. (It does.)

And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight.

In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden.

Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun.

Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible.

You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk.

Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up.

But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore.

Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit.

Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom.

She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’.

You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right.

When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier.

“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.”

It’s not true.

It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again.

She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done.

…

You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit.

The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.

You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill.

It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.

You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents.

Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again.

In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam.

Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off.

It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams.

“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.”

“Why?”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.”

You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona.

She picks up.

“I was sorry to hear about your mum.”

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

“Are you back at home?”

“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.”

Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles.

“Need me to show you around the city?”

And it’s Ona, so how could you say no?

…

Your visit goes very well.

She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend.

Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life.

She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery.

You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.

Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.

Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”

And your hands stop.

“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement.

You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?”

Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa.

“Who do you care about, then?”

“You.”

Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day.

The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend.

Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter.

You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before.

With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back.

Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly.

“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.”

You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers.

She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her.

At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh.

You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs.

“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?”

She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly.

As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.”

Ona blushes.

You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless.

For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on.

And that’s when she whispers it.

It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering.

It has taken years but it does not matter.

Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home.

#woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #barca femeni #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle smut

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 1 year

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Screaming and crying rn also, because right after I sent in that ask, I went to go and read protector 2 and, dear writer of mine, how are you so amazing at writing Simon Shhsbsjsbsjbs actually combusting rn, love your work sm.

but! To my actual ask! so, this is another self indulgent one.

Ok, a lot of times, when I really laugh, like, actually mean it, I snort. And I’m really insecure about it, cause alot of people make jokes about it, or make fun of it. Like “you sound like a pig” kinda stuff.

So, I was wondering if I could get price, Simon, König, and Alejandro with an S/O who snorts when they laugh, and they get so embarrassed, cause they think they’ll make fun of em

Bonus++ how would they react to someone making fun of their S/O for snorting when they laugh? ⬆️ This is just a little extra if you’d like to write it

feel free to dilute/leave some parts of this ask out because I understand this is very specific 😅

have a nice day/night! <3

✨—

Thank you sm I'm so glad you love it. I tried really hard to get him right.

This one is easy for me bc I snort when I laugh too.

Have a good day ✨!

Price, Simon, König, and Alejandro with an S/O who snorts when they laugh

Price

It's not rare that he makes you laugh. He usually gets a chuckle or a good laugh out of you when he says something with that dry humor of his

It kind of makes him feel good when he does make you laugh because it makes him feel not so much of an "boring old man" as he puts it

He also just likes to make you happy

So one night while he's on leave, the two of you decide to have some fun playing a game together while sharing some drinks

You both are a little tipsy and in high spirits, so the jokes were coming out easily

Price ended up saying something so funny you couldn't breathe with how hard you both were laughing

Then you snorted and you immediately went quiet.

Your entire body heated up and you placed your hands over your mouth as you avoided looking at Price, the silence from him making things a lot worse for you

You were mortified, just waiting for you him to say something

Price heard it, but he was honestly worried that something bad had happened to make your mood turn sour that quick

"You alright, love?" He wondered and you nodded, though you didn't look okay. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Let's keep playing." You tried to change the subject but he was set on making you laugh again.

Because Price isn't stupid, he put it together and honestly, he was mad that anyone would ever make fun of you for snorting when you're at your happiest

He didn't say anything as he began to tickle you, locking you into his arms so you couldn't get away from him. No matter how hard you tried to get away, he just held onto you and tickled you

"S-Stop! John!" You begged as you laughed so hard you snorted multiple times.

"There we go." He chuckled and kissed you on the cheek.

He likes that you snort when you laugh because he likes when you laugh. It let's him know you're truly having fun

God forbid anyone makes fun of you when you snort when he's around. He's about to become the meanest version of himself because he'll find something to say back

Simon

You laugh around him a lot and at his horrible dad jokes, which makes him feel a little too proud of himself

It enables him to make more jokes and if Soap is around it's like torture

He uses them as a good way to make you happy and when you're happy, he's happy. It's cliché, but truthfully, your happiness is something that is his top priority over everything

Usually those jokes don't make you laugh that hard though, and he's okay with that because he knows you still find joy out of them

One morning you both are laying in bed, you somehow convinced him to lay in bed later than he usually does, dozing in and out of sleep since it was the weekend

Simon was cuddling you and he was content with the silence, but a good joke popped into his head and he just had to share it with you

"Did you know diarrhea is genetic?" He asked and you looked at him with confusion.

"What?" You asked half asleep.

"It runs in your jeans."

It started out soft, your laughter, but soon you were laughing pretty hard at his joke, a lot harder than normal. It had taken you off guard and it was a bad joke, but somehow it made you laugh so hard you snorted

You gasped and placed a hand over your mouth, before you hid under the covers

Simon was confused but oh so surprised at your reaction

He made you laugh so hard, you snorted

It was an ego boost that's for sure and he wanted to make you laugh like that again, your happiness making him actually smile

He began an onslaught of horrible dad jokes, making you laugh harder with each other until you snorted again

He loves it. He already loved hearing you laugh but knowing you can laugh that hard and he's the one making you that happy makes he feel like he can do anything

Death glares towards anyone who makes fun of you and he'll probably say something mean in return

(yes i took the joke from the tlou tv show it made me laugh)

König

Any good moment he has with you, he cherishes because sometimes he gets a little insecure about if you actually like him

It’s definitely just the social anxiety talking but it makes him feel funky so he tries his best to combat those thoughts by making the most of the time you have together

When he makes you laugh, it's almost like all of the bad thoughts get pushed away by and it just makes him feel a lot better than he was

He always sends or shows you things that he knows will make you happy or laugh. It makes him feel like he's doing a good job at being your S/O

(You make sure to let him know that he doesn't always have to make you feel happy for him to be the best S/O you've had. You're always there to support him when he struggles)

One time you both were just sitting in silence, enjoying each others company while he decompresses after getting back from deployment

König was scrolling his phone aimlessly to just occupy his mind before he saw a funny video that he knew you were going to enjoy

He showed it to you, pride swelling in his chest when you began to laugh at the video and he even laughed a little himself before you snorted

When you suddenly stopped laughing and turned away from him, he immediately began to panic on the inside

Did you think he was laughing at you? That he was making fun of you?

Never in his life would he ever want to make you feel that way because he knows how bad that feeling is.

"I'm sorry." He apologized even though it wasn't his fault. "I wasn't laughing at you."

"I know, it's just embarrassing." You sighed and kept your back towards him.

"I don't think so."

He gave you a kiss on the top of your head and slowly after that you felt a lot less insecure about snorting when laughing, especially when he was around

His social anxiety disappears immediately when someone makes a comment about it and he may or may not call them out on it

Alejandro

This man is in love with everything about you and there is no one who would deny that

You and him laugh together often, there's a lot about life that you both try to make the most of and enjoy, especially when he works in such a violent field

He makes sure you're always comfortable around him and sometimes lets himself do embarrassing things to make you feel better about embarrassing yourself

He's 100% your ride or die and he will go out of his way to make you happy or to at least lessen the bad moods so you're not entirely upset

He doesn't joke very often with you but he never fails to make you laugh when he's showing you a movie or something he thought was funny. He also tends to tickle you when he wants to hear you laugh

You both were watching a comedy movie, a way for him to wind down after a long day of work

Something particularly funny happened that had you both belly laughing on the couch and when you snorted, you were embarrassed but you hoped that he didn't hear it over his own laughter, but he had

He didn't think anything of it, he honestly thought it was funny but he adored it so he waited for it to happen again when another funny part came on the tv, but it never did

"You don't like your laugh?" He wondered and you tried to hide your embarrassment.

"I don't like that I snort when I laugh." You explained and he hummed before he paused the movie.

"I love it, so you can do it when you're around me, mi vida."

Over time you stopped feeling embarrassed when you laughed that hard around him

If someone were to ever make fun of you when he's around, he's going to go into a million different insults, but in English and Spanish depending who he's talking to and how mad he is

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long and also that König's part was short. He's hard for me to write for some reason but I hope to get better at it

#simon ghost riley x reader #captain john price x reader #konig x reader #alejandro x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #mw2 headcanons

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silversweetpea · 1 year

Text

Peer Review

pairing: Spencer reid x reader (gn)

word count: 1895

warning: This is probably really sappy but other than that i don’t think so?

summary: The genius and the student and the very obvious thing between them they both weren’t seeing.

author’s note: this is wildly self indulgent because I'm struggling with staying motivated with school and really just wanted to image a cute coffee date with Spencer. I have an idea for a second part so keep an eye out for me continuing to be wildly indulgent the next time I get sad about making my reference page lmao

❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀

You weren’t hiding your college course from your coworkers. If Hotch or Morgan or even Garcia had asked you would tell them flat out that you had classes you were studying for. It wasn’t a big deal and if anyone in the world was going to understand what it was like to be addicted to working on something, it would be them.

If you were to hide it though, you would want the man approaching your table to be the last to know.

“Hey Doc, what’s up?” Reid smiled again, a little dopey and a little bashful, the same one that you got every time you called him by the nickname. Seeing him in this moment was almost worth having been at the table since you had slipped out of the office yesterday afternoon.

“Just, uh, you mentioned this coffee shop on the past few three cases straight. I figured I might as well try it while I had a chance.” It was your turn to smile, world suddenly a little brighter at his comment. You’d be the first to call anyone else in your circumstance hypocritical or indecisive to be so giddy over someone proving that they’ve been listening to you while trying so hard to hide something from them. Lucky for you, you weren’t anyone else and Spencer, as attentive as he was, had yet to comment on your sudden love of textbooks or attachment to your laptop.

“Good right? Have a seat, tell me what you got.” He was quick to slip into the spot across from you, long legs brushing yours under the table. You’ve never been more thankful for the close quarters as you are in that moment. Your laptop gets drawn towards you, but not quite closed. There was no telling if it would turn back on if you gave it a chance to rest.

“I have no clue. I didn’t know what most of the drinks had in them and by the time i got to the front of the line there were people behind me. Whatever it is cost six bucks.” His voice is tired and part of you longs to cup his face in your hand, to run your finger along the bags forming under his eyes. You’re not sure how tired he must be to not rehearse his order like usual but you’re not sure you could handle finding out either. It helps explain the dramatic drink - nearly half of which you’re sure is whip cream - in front of him at least.

“Well, give it a try.” Spencer looks skeptical of the rather frilly drink in his hand but when you nod towards it, you get to see him lift it to his lips. More importantly you get to see the slight mustache that forms on his upper lip.

Your brain wonders what he would taste like if you kissed him.

The more rational part of your brain simply leans over and uses a spare napkin to wipe the offending sweetness off his face.

It doesn’t occur to you that Reid has issues with people in his space until you’ve already settled back into your chair, napkin at your side and a dumbstruck look on his face. You’ve never seen brown eyes so blown wide or his hands so still where they still held his drink.

“Sorry about that. It’s worth it though right?” Spencer barely blinks as you give a stilted laugh and sip at your own drink - despite the fact that its now well past its peak at hours old.

“Yeah,” The tired edge is gone, replaced with something breathy. Whatever it is though, Spencer gets a hold of himself with a short clearing of his throat and a look to the laptop you had nearly, blessedly, forgotten about. “What are you working on?”

“Oh just, stuff,” Raised eyebrows, teasing smile. If your job didn’t kill you, if this homework didn’t kill you, it would be him. Even as you cringe you can feel the knock of his knees against yours again. “You know, organizing my email, going through old files, that sort of thing.”

Hands you would recognize by shadow alone close the distance, small as it is, painfully slow. It’s a polite way to argue, an unspoken question you answer with a resigned sigh and a sip of your drink once more as you watch those beautiful features light up with surprise.

“This is an essay.” The words aren’t accusatory like you had thought they would be, they’re not even joking, just confused. It makes looking up at him a bit easier though it does nothing to stop the way that your heart skips at the eye contact.

“In theory.” Your weak response makes him smile again, mouth faltering with no noise as you slid the laptop back towards yourself.

“Why are you writing an essay?” It’s innocent but your eyes are already skimming through the paper again, spotting all the mistakes that Spencer’s just seen and feeling your stomach plumet at the extent of them all. The bravery that had been surging through you at his presence suddenly slipped away.

“You have to promise you won’t laugh.” His hair falls into his eyes just a bit when he nods, face serious in a way that you’ve never seen outside of the field. Though you suppose that you’ve only ever had a good reason to invite him out alone once or twice and if he was nervous with the group he’d probably keep that to himself if possible. Your eyes drift back to your cup at your side and the finger you have running around the rim of the cup to avoid looking at him. “I’ve been doing an online class recently. Figured it was about time to start updating what I know so I don’t get rusty.”

The silence between you feels unjustly vulnerable.

“That’s...wow.” Soft as a feather. Would that be what it felt like to feel his breath on your skin too? Not looking up means that you can’t tell what he’s trying to say with just two words and it only takes a second to compose yourself.

“I know it’s nothing compared to your wall of degrees bu-” Your gaze only snaps to Spencer when a warm hand covers your own.

“No that’s not it. I just can’t believe you found time to go back to school with all the cases we handle. Do you ever sleep?” Silence again, as if the rest of the cafe is holding its breath too while you search for some sign of insincerity. There isn’t though, not with Spencer.

“There’s a reason I like this coffee shop.” The noise comes back all at once when you catch the smallest bit of a laugh. You don’t mind this one though, it almost sounds relieved coming from him. “Though I like it less when I’m cut off for the day.”

“How long have you been here?” Warmth floods your veins, embarrassment catching you by surprise. The strange looks of baristas who ring you out several times a visit was one thing. Watching Spencer’s brow furrow, or his hair shift as he leaned ever so slightly towards you, was another.

The cold air feels like a brick being dropped on your hand when you pull back into yourself. Your eyes glue themselves to the laptop screen and the blinking cursor that seemed to mock you there.

“Long enough to rewrite this essay four times and still hate it. I meant to write it in the hotel rooms but the case wrapped early and then there was paper work and-” You hadn’t even noticed the hand snaking back in your direction until the laptop you’d been focused on was pulled from your grip.

“Let me take a look,” Spencer says as if you’re not floundering like a fish out of water. The nerves have just enough time to build in your throat, suffocating you, before you realize that you’re just as anxious about the ease in which the genius offers his help. Its the same way that he saves you a seat on the jet or offers to grab you something from the breakroom. Its the same as when you share those quiet in-between moments where you learn about his life in exchange for bits of your own and marvel at how perfect they seem to fit together despite your concerns.

“If it’s bad you can say so. I know that I’m not the best at the whole essay thing. Tests I can study for but open ended ‘explain this concept I barely touched upon in class’ moments aren’t my strong suit.” He says nothing, but you can see a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. It’s hard to tell what that means for your paper but for your heart is means another skipped beat. The words keep coming in an attempt to ignore that though. “You know maybe I should just go. It’s not fair to make you review that on your day off-”

“(Y/n), calm down,” The anxiety simmers and then evaporates completely when he looks up at you again. the smile makes his eyes shine and Spencer voice is light with a laugh that doesn’t seem quite able to break free. You’re sure in that moment that time stops, that you’ve spent an eternity just allowing yourself to get lost in familiarity. Your line of work doesn’t leave much room for domestic day dreams, nights spent at the dinner table or lazy Sunday afternoons but for a minute you can see it all ahead of you and reflected back in Spencer’s gaze. “Your essay is fine. I’m just going to leave some notes for you to review later and then you can have it back.”

“Why not just tell me now?” The words are still breathless, but when he looks back to the screen, the sound of typing filling the space between you two, your lungs seem more accepting of the air you gulp down. For the first time in your life you understand how it must feel to be a smoker, addicted to the same thing robbing you of your ability to breathe.

“Because I’m walking you home. You look like you haven’t slept since you left the office.” Easy, confident, said in the same tone of voice that he’d use to tell you the sky is blue and although you want to argue, want to insist that you stay put until the essay if finished and submitted you don’t have it in you to deny him that truth.

“Okay, just let me grab something to drink that isn’t hours old.”

“Here,” Spencer hands off his drink in one hand and swipes your laptop bag with the other, throwing the strap over his shoulder. “It seems like something you’d like.”

When he stands, you’re pretty sure you catch a glimpse of red in his cheeks, but you’re so busy thinking about the fact that you’re sipping from the same cup that you can’t trust your own eyes. Nor can you fathom how he knew that this was your favorite drink if slightly sweeter from the caffeine free flavoring used.

All you know is that when Spencer almost trips over himself to hold the door open on the way out, you’re thinking again of what it’d be like to kiss him.

#Spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine

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selfindulgentpixies · 9 months

Text

And part 6 is here! This chapter is very mellow I guess compared to the others? Just a sweet break from everything else because honestly it's what they all deserve and I feel like you all might be ready for a break from the angst. Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 7 Contains: Satoru x reader x Suguru, Gn!reader, reader has 'chan' attached to the end of their name, reader is referred to as cute. (Keep in mind this is very self indulgent) Spoilers up to episode 28. This chapter and next can be viewed as taking place between hidden inventory and premature death. I hope you all enjoy this. Word count: A lil over 3K

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The boys look at you when you curl and cover your face, their expressions amused and a touch concerned. “If I’m getting the wrong thing from what the two of you are talking about and you tease me when I ask, I'll hobble my way back to the infirmary and not speak to either of you for a week.” You mumble into your hands.

“Satoru,” Suguru says, giving him a look.

“Yeah I get it, I won’t make fun of them for what they’re gonna ask,” he says with an eyeroll you can hear and you know is directed at Suguru. Of course he’s not gonna fuck this up.

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly before lowering your hands. You really wish you weren’t right between the two of them for this. “So uh… Does this mean that the two of you…” You trail off and stare hard at the blanket, suddenly painfully shy and nervous.

You feel Suguru’s hand brush against your cheek. “Go on. Ask us.”

You glance between the two of them, only seeing encouragement and perhaps a bit of their own apprehension. Swallowing you wiggle from between them and crawl a little ways away on the bed so you have the space to turn and face them both. You must not have done the best job concealing your wince of pain at the movement because you can see a crease of worry on both their faces when you meet their eyes though they don’t comment on it and instead wait for you to speak again.

You force yourself to not fidget.. “So does this mean that the two of you like me as more than just a friend then?” Your stomach is a mess of knots and you feel like your face is on fire.

There's an amused quirk to Satoru’s lips now and when Suguru notices he elbows him in the ribs. “Ow! I didn’t say anything,” He hisses at Suguru.

Suguru gives him a look that says he looked like he wanted to before turning his gaze back to you. You were so cute it made his heart ache, though the longer they didn’t say anything the more nervous you looked and he thought perhaps you might flee if the words were left hanging in the air long enough, not that he’d let them. “Now do you think we’d pull just anyone into our bed?” His smile is warm.

“Well i-”

“Of course we like you as more than a friend.” Satoru cuts in, giving you the more direct answer that’s needed to soothe your nerves. “The real question we have is do you actually want both of us. He ignores how Suguru’s eyes flick toward him, knowing that he was aware of Satoru’s own insecurity that you actually only liked Suguru. After all, you'd warmed up to the other curse manipulator much more quickly than you had to him.

Your mind reels. They both really did like you. You hadn’t been reading too deeply into teasing like you’d been telling yourself the past few months. You release a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “Yeah… I like both of you a lot,” You glance away, looking toward the window that’s now being battered with rain. “I want to be with the both of you.” for the second time tonight not looking at one of them while talking results in you getting startled, drawing a yelp from you as you suddenly feel yourself being tugged back up the bed, being gently and quickly rolled onto your back. You blink up at Satoru as he half covers you, an excited and soft grin taking over his features.

“You really mean that.” And there’s a note of wonder in his voice. That’s another thing that clicks for you, the way he’d sounded hurt when he found out you were using Suguru’s first name and not his, the way he’d been so insistent you use his too. The way he’d almost always tried to be at your training sessions with Suguru even if he wasn’t doing anything other than watching. The great Gojo Satoru had been feeling insecure. Jealous even.

You blink up at him and then reach up and touch his face with your right hand. “Yeah I do.”

Oh he feels absolutely giddy. It’s only slightly tempered by Suguru suddenly poking his cheek. “Don’t hog them now. You’re not the only one who got confessed to just now.”

Satoru whines “Oh come on them liking you was a given.”

“W-was I that obvious?” You hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Both of them look at you and in unison say “Yes.”

Just Satoru this time, “Proves my point that you should let me have my moment.” Suguru shoves his shoulder, forcing him to flop over next to you. He lets out an annoyed grunt.

You cover your face with your hands, embarrassment running hot through your veins. You hadn’t thought you’d been that obvious with your crush on Suguru.

“Hey now, you don’t need to hide.” Suguru coos and then you feel his hands gently uncovering your face. You consider fighting to keep your hands in place but ultimately let him have his way. He’s smiling at you. “Honestly I thought it was cute, though it was definitely making Satoru jealous,” the warmth in his voice shifts to being more teasing.

“Suguru.” Satoru’s voice is caught somewhere between a whine and a warning.

Your eyes flick to Satoru, he looks disgruntled, a pretty blush staining his cheeks. For as much as Satoru liked being in the spotlight he didn’t like it in this way. “Well..” You start carefully, “now you know I like you both, and I’m with you both so there’s no reason to be jealous now, right?” You give Satoru a warm little smile.

And something about those words and that warm smile draws him in. There’s a lump in his throat and his heart thrums against his ribs. It’s no great distance, not really a moment for a second thought before his lips are pressed against yours. Kissing you gently for what are several heart-stuttering moments, you’re not sure what to do but you press back into the kiss for just a moment before he pulls back. You’re staring at him bewildered, cheeks hot but a giddy feeling unfolding in your chest. “That was my first kiss..” the words are so quiet neither boy actually thinks you meant to say them.

The effect the words have on each of them is different. For Satoru it’s pride, you may have liked Suguru first but he got to kiss you first. Not just your first kiss with them, but your very first kiss. Something tightens in Suguru’s chest, a thread of an emotion he doesn’t want to examine in that moment.

“And how about your second now?” Suguru questions, moving in close so his face is right next to yours. His eyes flick for the briefest of moments to Satoru before going back to you.

“Y-yeah okay…” Your voice is shy but no reluctance lies beneath it. Sugruru’s kiss presses a bit harsher against your lips, something possessive bubbling under the surface.

Satoru lays down next to the two of you, watching before he runs his fingers through Suguru’s hair at which Suguru becomes gentler, jealousy soothed at the reminder that there’s also affection between him and Satoru to be had. You look a bit dazed when Suguru pulls back.

The rest of the night passes in small kisses and quiet conversation with the two of them tangled around you.

Several loud knocks sound at the door. “Geto! Gojo! I better not find my patient in there with you!”

All three of you jerk in the bed. You didn’t even remember falling asleep.

“Shit- Suguru, did you lock the door?” Satoru asks.

As if in answer Shoko slams the sliding door open. So that was a no. She surveys the three of you, relieved to at least see you’re all clothed. “You three are so lucky Yaga left on a mission before he could go check the infirmary today.” Her gaze zeros in on you, still blinking groggily but with your heart racing from being startled awake. “Please tell me one of them at least carried you here and you didn’t walk here on your own.”

“Ahh wellll…” You look away from her.

She pulls at her hair. “You’re a terrible patient, you know that?”

“I’ve been told that before yeah.” You glance away sheepishly.

“I won’t but I really should tell Yaga. You need to be in bed and resting.”

“They are in bed,” Satoru quips, propping himself up on his elbow.

“And they’ve been resting, slept all through the night,” Suguru adds.

“They’d still be asleep if you hadn’t woken us all up.” Satoru again, god how the two of them had the energy to be smartasses already was beyond you. You just wanted to curl back up and sleep more..

Shoko glares at them and gets two sleepy grins in return. She sighs. “So I take it the three of you stopped dancing around each other finally?” She starts patting at her uniform pockets looking for a cigarette.

Oh. It had been obvious to Shoko too? You did not need to feel embarrassed right after waking up but here you were trying to sink back into the pillows. “Was.. Was I the only one who thought I was just being teased?” God even Haibara had been poking at you about it now that you think of it.

Shoko finds her cigarette and puts it between her lips. “Sure were.” She says flippantly as she walks into the room and goes to sit by the window which she slides open. It’s a gray morning but the rain has mostly stopped. “You followed Suguru around like a lost puppy half the time after your first mission with him.”

You roll over and bury your face in the pillow. “I’m going back to bed.” You blindly reach around and pull a blanket over your head and pointedly ignore the conversation still happening between the upperclassmen. You’re not sure whether it’s Satoru or Suguru but you feel one of them rubbing your back through the blanket, helping to coax you back toward sleep.

It feels like only a moment later when you blink your eyes open and peek out from the blanket. You sit bolt upright when you realize you're the only one in the bed. Suddenly quite awake your eyes move around until they land on Shoko who’s sitting by the window still.

She glances up from her phone. “Don’t look so panicked, they just went to pick up some breakfast. They asked me to stay with you, like I wasn't going to already.” She seems to debate something for a moment. “How are you feeling today? Apparently you were well enough last night to make it here on your own. “

“Ah.. I’m okay. Thanks to you. I’m still sore basically everywhere between my neck and hips but nothing I can't manage.”

She frowns though when she speaks her voice is gentle. “You got lucky, when Geto carried you in I thought you were already dead for a second. I’ve never seen him look so desperate before. Even with his own injuries he wanted to be sure I saved you before even beginning to heal him.” The events play back through her mind, the campus was already in chaos with no one sure exactly what was going on. Just that there had been fighting and fly heads were everywhere. Then Geto was bursting in to see her looking absolutely desperate, bloody and tired. He’d begged her to save you, demanded it because he couldn’t lose you too. That’s how she’d found out about Gojo being ‘killed’. Her hands shook the entire time she healed you. Healed you enough that you’d be able to recover normally before moving onto Geto so he could get back out there.

You look down at your hands. “I’m so-”

She sighs. “You don’t need to apologize to me. Missions go bad.” She shrugs one of her shoulders and then reaches into her pocket to pull out your phone and toss it to you.”You left this in the infirmary.”

You catch it, nearly fumbling the dead lil brick. “O-oh thank you.” You got the distinct impression that neither Satoru or Suguru had given Shoko the details on how you’d ended up in such bad shape. Now that you think of it, you don’t think they actually gave Yaga the details either because you’re pretty sure you would have gotten way more of a lecture if so. You’d have to ask them exactly what they’d told people about how you’d gotten so injured so you don’t contradict them by accident.

“You know.. I hope you’re able to ground those two a bit.” Shoko says, breathing smoke out the window.

You blink. “Huh?”

“Gojo and Geto. I hope you’re able to keep the two of them more grounded. They seem so far away and on their own, even when I’m with them they always feel a bit out of reach. But it really seems like they may be letting you into their little world, I just hope you’re able to bring them out of it a little and don’t get lost in it yourself.” You can’t help but think the small smile she gives you carries a certain sadness to it.

“Shoko-”

The bedroom door slides open. “We’re back and we have breakfast!” Satoru sing songs as he breezes into the room, Suguru not far behind. He plops onto the bed heavily enough to make you bounce before reaching into the bag he’d be carrying to pull out a box that he then sets on your lap. “I noticed you kept getting strawberry flavored things while we were on the mi- while we were out.” He falters slightly but maintains a cheerful smile. He flips open the box and it’s a pretty stack of fluffy pancakes with whip cream and strawberries. Your face lights up.

Before you actually say anything though Suguru knocks the bag he’s carrying against the back of Satoru’s head. “Don’t take all the credit.” And then he pulls a box out of said bag and passes it to Shoko. “This one should be yours.”

“And here I thought you might forget me.” She stubs out her cigarette before getting to her food.

“Of course we wouldn’t forget you. Give us a lil more credit,” Suguru says as he sits down by you as well on the bed.

The meal passes in relative peace, the four of you mainly focusing on eating. Though Shoko makes a face when Suguru wipes whipped cream off the corner of your mouth with his thumb and then licks it. She supposes she should just be glad he didn’t kiss it off- and there goes Satoru. She only watches the blush bloom across your cheeks for a moment.

She stands up. “Thanks for the breakfast but i’m not gonna sit here and watch the three of you do-” she makes a sweeping hand gesture at the three of you, “do whatever it is you’re doing.” She waves off any protest as they start. “Just make sure you actually rest, ___-chan.” She says with a wave, leaving the room with the rest of her breakfast.

You pout a little “Well there she goes…” You close the box containing your meal.

“You only ate a third of your food,” Satoru points out. “Was it not good?”

“Ah no it’s really good. I’m just not super hungry.” You furrow your brow, looking as if you were considering a question.

Suguru takes the box containing your food and sets it on the nightstand along with his own. “Something on your mind?”

“I was uh.. Just wondering what the two of you told Shoko and Yaga about how I ended up in such critical condition. Kinda feel like Yaga would have chewed me out a lot more if he knew and I feel like Shoko would have been at least a little more irritated.” Despite your current safe position you feel a sick feeling begin to unfurl in your chest as your mind runs over the end of that mission.

“Oooh yeah we left some things out. As far as anyone outside the three of us is concerned he attacked you as soon as both of us were down. He was too fast for you to avoid the fight,” Satoru explains.

At this you nod. Your mind thinking about that man and how he must still be out there and your shoulders begin to shake slightly. This is why every time you’d thought of that man you’d tried to redirect your thoughts.

The boys share a look before Satoru speaks. “No one’s given you a proper mission debrief yet so you wouldn’t know yet, but I took care of it.” The words hang heavy in the air as the meaning sinks in.

You look at Satoru your eyes refocusing on him. His face is solemn and a brief glance at Suguru shows the same. Both of them suddenly looking so tired, the cheerful atmosphere of just a few minutes ago melting away. “You mean that you-”

“After I healed myself I went after him. He’s dead and won’t be able to harm anyone else.” Satoru smoothes a hand over your hair. The look he’s giving you telling you don’t need to be scared. He can see all the other questions swirling behind your eyes, because while knowing that the man, hell you never even learned his name, who brought so much pain is dead brings on questions of its own.

“We’ll tell you everything later, ___. “ Suguru’s voice is a bit strained and you realize that maybe he even more than Satoru doesn’t feel up to talking about this.

You nod. “Alright.. Yeah we can leave it for later.” You glance away, releasing a slow breath. You would take comfort in what they’ve told you so far. They probably have good reasons for not going into further details. They both looked haunted and you were almost afraid to hear all that had happened while you were unconscious.

“Are the two of you doing anything today?” It’s summer afterall, even under the current circumstances you wouldn’t be surprised if they were already going to get sent back into the field today but you’re relieved when Suguru answers for them both.

“If you mean anything mission wise then no, we’ve been given at least a few days leave to recover.”

“And outside of missions?” You prod.

Satoru cracks a smile. “Nothing. Sounds like maybe you have an idea. Though you're supposed to stay in bed.”

You stick your tongue out at him and he gives you a mock offended look. “I know that. How about we have a movie marathon today?” You give both of them a hopeful smile and really how could either of them say no to you when you look at them like that. That’s how the three of you spend not just today but also the next, curled up in a bed that is too small for three of you, and basking in the glow of new love and taking shelter from the harrowing ordeal that had nearly extinguished it before it could take form.

___

And that's it for part 6! Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. This has been so much fun to write. I hope you don't mind that reader never leaves Suguru's bed for this chapter. Just a whole lot of talking and the slow burn finally starting to cook.

Also your kind comments have gone a long way in keeping me motivated so thank you all for that.

Remember if you wanna be on the taglist you need to have your age listed and be 18+ The fic may not have anything that requires that at this point but my blog itself isn't for minors.

Taglist: @strawberrystepmom @nanamikentoseyebags @gojoest @yuuuumii @yokaimoon @chibiizzy @porridgesblog @icy-spicy

#rossi writes #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #gn!reader #jjk x reader #satoru x reader x suguru #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader x geto #geto x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #posting a bit earlier than normal since i'm not trying to make sure people watch the latest episode first

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wayfayrr · 5 months

Text

So this is very much a self indulgent mini-fic, venting about some stuff that I've been dealing with recently <3 I'm working on requests and some other fics but I got told to post this to get it off of my chest anyway @cloudninetonine @angry-trashcan thanks for the confidence boost to be able to post this

“Hey, you’ve been sitting over here for a while, you feeling alright?”

“Just been thinking… I was part of some drama before I was uh brought here. It’s just, it’s just messed with me a bit I guess. I’ll be fine when we need to start moving again, don’t worry wars.”

After a brief second of fabric shuffling, he sits down and leans on me. It’s an oddly comforting feeling, different too like he’s bothered by something? What could’ve set him off so badly?

“Would you mind if I asked you about it? It’s clearly bothering you so, you should get it off of your chest and well, I’d just like to help you through this.”

“If you really want to know, it’s a little complicated though and while I can make a lot of it make sense to you I’ll have to leave a couple of things out.”

“Sounds like you’re willing to get it off of your chest though, so would you care to explain it to me honeybee?”

He’s being more persistent than usual too, have I really been looking so badly bothered by my thoughts? The worry does feel nice however, it feels more like talking to an old friend than anything which is wonderful seeing as I’ve not been able to reach them recently. I’ve just been stuck rereading old messages in a new context while my phone endlessly buffers to reach impossibly far servers.

“It’s… I’d been having issues with this person for a while… they used me more than anything, kept asking me for advice and making everything about them and brushed anything I or my other friends were trying to say off and sent things they really shouldn’t to people unwarrented… and then everything else.”

“Everything else? You don’t have to cut yourself off, with how you’ve been acting the rest feels like it’ll be worse anyway.”

“They just - someone connected some dots and pointed them out to me and I just… I’ve been going back over what they said and - and - and it made me think. They told me they associated my voice with a character they always got weird over, they kept fawning over my accent and how they’ve only ever heard it in fiction before, they gave me weird compliments when I was talking about things I did as a kid and that’s not even getting me started on how they treated my friends. I just… I feel so disgusted, seeing it in this light. Every bit of my skin just itches with disgust towards myself. Sorry I didn’t mean to share so much at once - I’m just tired. They didn’t even like me, it was like they only wanted me for where I’m from.”

The way he stilled sent a shiver down me, did I say to much? He might have not meant it when he said I could share… I mean theres no way he could’ve known… or does he think I’m simply overreacting? I’m probably just overreacting anyway.

My heart started beating again when he softened and pulled me to rest on him.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that all. They’re the one who is disgusting, not you, never you. I’ll speak to time, you should just rest for the rest of the day. I can lend you my scarf and you can just have a nap or I could ask wild to make your favourite food and you can just rest.”

I didn’t get a say before he’s already draped it over my shoulders; he’s leading me back over to the others and setting me down next to sky as he goes to speak with time.

“Hmm? Did something happen, are you feeling alright dove?”

“Ah well, wars is going to ask time if we can stop for the day because I’m just dealing with some memories. I hope it won’t bother the others.”

“I doubt it, everyone’s been tense and tired recently. I know I have, I’ve been about dying for a rest. Would you care to join me too?”

Leaning back against him is all the response he needs as my eyes flutter closed, he’s so warm and comfortable. There are few people I’d prefer to rest next to.

><><><><><><

“So then old man, I think that’s a good enough reason to settle for the day, don’t you?”

I know he’ll agree, asking him like this is simply a formality. After all, how could we continue when a member of the group is in such a state? On the verge of tears just from thinking about someone for a little bit too long.

“You’ve never asked this for anyone else, but fine.” “Thank you Time, I’ll pay you back for this.”

“And Wars?”

“Hmm?”

“Go take your anger out on something, it’s not a good energy in the camp. Not if they’re so fragile right now. There’s apparently a standard bokoblin camp just a little south.”

He’s seen right through me then, but now I don’t need an alibi for when I come back.

#venting #vent fic #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #moss✦writes

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dapper-zappa · 9 months

Text

The Spider’s Den | Miguel O'Hara

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Wife!Civilian!Reader

Summary: Mr. and Mrs. O'Hara have a little intimate talk with each other before bedtime.

Word count: ~1,1K

Warnings: Tooth rotting domestic fluff, soft Miguel, Reader is an Alchemax scientist, sneaky PSA from me, RAGH I NEED A HUSBAND LIKE HIM HERE

A/N: I was feeling really needy for soft ass fics so hey, this fic is purely self indulgent bc I need more soft Miguel shit

Wrote this with the reader being Asian in my head but you can still feel free to imagine her as however you like 💖

The work burdens you constantly overthink about for the day would always fade away once you lay down on the enormous bed that you and Miguel shared for years. This time was no different, with you deciding to sleep in with one of the tees you stole from his wardrobe as a “night dress” while he’s shirtless thanks to you stealing the garment he originally wanted to wear for bed.

The usual sternness displayed in his scarlet eyes were replaced by a tender gaze, bearing into yours with uncountable amounts of love pouring from them. A small smile displayed itself on his lips as he took in the sight of Mrs. O’Hara’s beautiful face, with one of his muscular arms draped around your waist. In return, you couldn’t help but give him a smile full of pure tenderness.

“Ever thought about what it would be like if our relationship was like those run-of-the-mill husband and wife with 2 kids and a white picket house, my love? That means no Spider-Man and no Alchemax scientist, just the two of us being a cliché married couple with a happy family.” you asked, voice as low as a whisper.

“Querida, I can definitely see us being that couple you mentioned,” he said, pulling you closer by the waist. “But I’m not really sure about the no Spider-Man part. Nueva York, all the other dimensions out there, and you need a protector. Someone responsible who can keep you safe from all the dangers out there.” his voice was gentle as his free hand reached out to intertwine itself with yours. (Darling)

A hearty chuckle escaped from your lips. “I know. But I couldn’t be more thankful with you for keeping Nueva York safe.”

Your hand came up to rest on top of his that’s draped around your waist, mindlessly tracing along the silver band on his finger. A symbol you both wore as proof that Miguel and Y/N O’Hara were now husband and wife. Not a single word was said as he relished the feeling on your touch, the one he always familiarize himself with yet at the same time - always craved whenever he’s far from his love.

“If there’s anything I need for today, it’s to be home with my wife and forget about anything else,” he murmured. “But if I’m being honest here, mi vida, thank you for being there with me. I couldn’t have asked for a better woman here because you’re the one who makes me feel like my true self. You lit up a path that guided me into a better life, a path where I get to admit my own mistakes and change into a better person for my own good. While I’m still learning on that part, this journey so far has been a wonderful one because of you. Thank you again for loving me despite my flaws, because failing you would be the biggest failure in my life.”

You reached up to cup his face in your hand, and Miguel leant to the palm of your hand as you caressed his strong cheekbone. All he could feel right now was the soft pillows he’s laying on and your gentle touch. He never wanted to admit this to everyone else, especially his right hand woman and friend Jessica Drew, but he secretly really cherished moments where he and his former coworker-turned-wife got to be vulnerable in private and profess your love for each other in all those intimate moments. If anyone else gets to find out about this, he’d very likely be embarrassed about it as he’s never been that comfortable showing affection in public, yet at the same time he wanted to follow how you dealt with this.

Why bother caring about what other people think when you have each other?

“My love, can I ask you something?” you asked, and Miguel’s large hand now engulfed itself over the one on his cheek.

“What is it?”

“Do you love me?”

To others, it was a silly question, especially because you’re married to him and no longer being his simple girlfriend… although your heart disagreed. After all, if you were happy with your current partner, it always felt so great to know what their heart said otherwise. To you, by being genuine from the deepest depths of trenches from your heart, this is where you’re able to build a special connection with your loved ones. Both parties being openly honest and authentic in front of each other, nothing else.

“Mi alma, te quiero cada día un poco más.” (My soul)

Your entire face lit up from the radiant smile rising on your lips. While you’re not fluent at Spanish, compared to Miguel basically having the language as something he’s fluent with, an indicator he quite remained in touch with his native Mexican heritage. How you got to learn it was because in one part, you looked up the meaning of the phrase yourself and for the other part, Miguel explained it himself.

It’s not like you’re one of those people on the Internet who only saw people of Latin American heritage as sexual objects… right? Or just only loved Latinos for their body and nothing more, just so they can freely say “papi” or “mami” as they thirst over how hot Latino celebrities are.

You loved Miguel for way more than it.

“It means that every day, I love you a little more.” Miguel responded.

Then, you reached up to tuck a few loose strands of his hair behind his ear, before scooting even closer towards him. Soon your lips locked with his in a tender kiss, one that’s actually full of passion. It wasn’t a heated, sloppy one that indicated both of you were really embracing the passion, but more like one where you felt nothing but the sensation of love cascading from your lover, like a little waterfall with fireworks accompanying it from the euphoria bursting through.

When you pulled away from him, you were both tiredly smiling at each other. Though it’s mainly more because of it being kinda late at night and because the two of you were so tired from today’s work duties - you being one of Alchemax’s scientists and him being Spider-Man.

“You know, Miggy. I was just thinking the same thing…” you yawned, resting your head on his chest. “Because wow, it’s so crazy how I fell in love with you more with each day that passed.” “Mi vida, you need to go to sleep now.” (My life)

“Say the one who’s also tired.” you replied groggily.

“You know what, you’re right.” Miguel chuckled.

Miguel wrapped an arm around your form, holding you close to his chest. In return, you snuggled closer to him and savored in the comforting warmth that radiated from him. A few minutes then passed and you drifted off to sleep before you knew it. He noticed this, so he smiled down at your now asleep form and kissed the top of your head.

“Sleep tight, my Y/N.”

Extra A/N: Y'all saw the little jab coming, huh? 😏

It's not like you can't like Latino characters and actors or anything, but I just wanna say that you can like Latino characters and actors without being weird in the case of fetishizing them by only liking them for their looks or smth like that. /srs /gen

#atsv fic #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #smokey writes #atsv #spider man atsv #spider man across the spider verse #miguel x you #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man 2099 x you

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avocado-writing · 3 months

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we need a rewrite of the tiefling party where tav can actually convince wyll to join the party and have fun please 🥹

notes: love love love writing for Wyll. he's such a sweetie! Implied bard reader but not explicit.

rating: T, but there will be a spicy part 2 coming up!

The party is lively and your head is swimming from the buzz of attention. That, and the small amount of wine you’ve had: not so much as to dull your senses but enough to make you merry. Warmed with Arkhen’s Hoard you take a break from the grateful tieflings and head out towards the familiar babble of the river. The further from camp you go the quieter your surroundings get, and you’re able to breathe a little more easily knowing there aren’t half a dozen children hanging on your every word. It’s lovely to be the centre of attention because you helped them, but a little overwhelming with all those eyes on you.

Of course, that’s not the only reason that you’ve come wandering over this way.

Wyll sits with his legs crossed on the bank, staring at the way the water dances under the moonlight. He seems at peace, the calmest he’s been since Mizora appeared and sprouted those horns for him; shoulders relaxed, tensionless.

“Wondered where you were,” you say, quietly. You don’t want to make him jump after all. It hurts your heart to see the way that his body stiffens when he hears your voice. Ah: there’s the tension again. Nevertheless, he turns to look at you over his shoulder, an easy smile on his lips - but one with a hint of sadness. You’ve studied his face enough in camp in order to know when he’s trying to hide something. It makes your heart ache bitterly that he would try and hide it from you, though.

“Thought I’d be able to sneak away. Should have known you’d be able to find me.”

You take a seat next to him in the grass. It’s a soft spot he’s managed to pick, not wet from its proximity to the river, but green and lush from its plentiful feeding. You lock eyes with him and press a hand to your chest, mock-wounded.

“Wyll! You make me sound like I’m a bloodhound tracking you down, not someone who cares about you checking in.”

He laughs, and you see him begin to lighten again. When he smiles this time, it’s sincere.

“That’s not what I meant. Apologies. Just that I’m not surprised you know me well enough to guess where I’d end up.”

“Down by the river,” you hum, fingers suddenly itching for the feel of a lute’s strings.

“You’re always singing that, you know?”

“I am, it’s a good song. I’ve never once heard you complain about it.”

“I’m not complaining! I never would, I love to hear you sing. Since I joined you on this journey, my life has been filled with so much music. It’s been wonderful.”

You put your hands behind you and lean back on them, allowing your face to become level with his. He looks into your eyes and, this close, you can see his breath hitch a little when your fingers brush together.

“I could be persuaded to do an impromptu performance, but I’d need my favourite person in the front row to give me courage.”

“I’m sure that you don’t need me for that. Courage is the one thing you couldn’t possibly lack.”

“To be my muse, then.”

You know if you lifted your hand and felt his cheek, it’d be warm.

“Please, Wyll,” you continue, softly. “Please come and join us. Everybody wants you there. Me especially, if I’m being selfish.”

“Ah…” you can see he’s warring with himself. On one side of the argument, he longs to indulge you. On the other side…

“I’m not sure. I think people may find me off-putting.”

You furrow your brow.

“You? The single most charming man I’ve ever met?”

Another flash of shyness over his face. You can tell that he enjoys the compliment, but his self-doubt wins out.

“Perhaps I was, before the horns.”

“Oh, Wyll. Do you think anybody up there cares about those? A group of your friends and people you fought tooth and nail to protect? I know for a fact that Karlach wants to challenge you to a drinking game.”

“That seems like more of a reason to hide! I think she’d drink me under one of the tables,” Wyll grimaces, and smiles when you laugh at his silliness. He seems a little more open to the idea, but still not completely sold.

“I don’t know… just… the children…”

“The children who love you and hang on your every word? Umi won’t stop asking me where you are, and someone needs to keep Mol in line…”

“I doubt even the gods themselves can do that.”

When he chuckles you find yourself reaching out to cup his cheek, running your thumb over the sharp ridge that was raised there when Mizora cursed him. His eyes widen and glaze over before sliding closed, nuzzling into the gesture, soul laid bare to the sweetness of your touch.

“Nobody feels unsettled by you. Nobody is afraid of you.”

His lips fall apart, anticipating the way you reach in to kiss him.

It’s a soft kiss. Lips dancing slowly, a waltz, noses bumping together a little, his horns grazing your hairline. Your heart soars at it.

When it’s over you sit there and breathe together. Sharing the same air, letting your blood thrum through you in an intertwined heartbeat.

“Will you come and join us? Will you come and dance with me?” you ask.

Wyll loses the argument with himself.

“Yes.”

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

#wyll x reader #wyll x tav #wyll ravengard x reader #wyll ravengard x tav #my writing #request

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xzhdjsj · 16 days

Text

Tangled in Love

Andrew x Reader

Okay before you continue this, I wanted to let you know this fic mentions description of hair texture. The reader has wavy/curly hair! Additionally, this fic is a rewrite of part 6 of Andrew’s story.

+a lil rant before the actual fic (you can skip the first part but please read the second)

I wasn't going to post this because it's a self-indulgent piece but hey I’m sure someone out there will enjoy it too. I've struggled with my hair for quite a while. It was one of my biggest insecurities, and I never knew how to take care of it. For the majority of my life, I've treated my hair as though it was straight, using straight hair products and styles, because that's what I wanted my hair to be. I hated the 'frizz' which in actuality was just me damaging my curl pattern😭 Thankfully, even though I couldn't see it, the people around me did and helped me manage and properly care for my hair. These days, I embrace my curls, and I love them more than anything! If I'm not rocking my curly hair I feel incomplete, it's become a huge part of me! I still have a long way to go, but I'm beyond happy I was able to finally recognise how beautiful my hair is.

That being said, I want to remind all of you that YOU ARE PERFECT! I know we doubt and pick at ourselves from time to time, but it's important to remember THOSE DOUBTS DON'T DEFINE US! Every imperfection and flaw is what makes you perfectly, uniquely and most of all beautifully YOU. Please remember to be kind to yourself and never ever stop loving yourself ❤️

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It's been months since Andrew ended things with me. At first, I prided myself in being mature and acted like the entire thing never even happened. I stopped sitting where his eyes can easily find me, I never take similar routes as he would and avoided his office at all cost. It was easy to find a temporary tutor to help with my assessments, that way I didn't even need to attend his tutorials.

The less contact with him the better. This little routine was good and dandy, getting me by as I immersed myself completely in y work. If I distracted my mind, I wouldn't need to think of Andrew, right? Wrong.

So fucking wrong.

Every other thought, he was on my mind. I wondered how he'd answer questions on my exam preps, and his opinion on every sentence I wrote. I thought of him so much, it was sickening and before I knew it I was tired and relapsing.

I gave university my all until I couldn't anymore. I was heartbroken and ignoring my feelings only made them worst. They burdened my mind, and I spent nights upon nights crying my eyes swollen into my pillows. I knew I had to accept it somehow but the ghosts of him haunts me, even in my dreams.

Last night’s dream was an especially painful one. I vividly remember the look on his face and the way my heart shattered into a million pieces as he drove away that day. What a shit start to my day!

I rolled out of bed, heading straight for the bathroom where I splashed my face with cold water and looked into the mirror. What a mess, my hair was messy and unkept and not in and attractive, quirky way, more closely resembling a bird’s nest. I wonder if Andrew could ever love me even when I look like this.

I sigh, rubbing my temples and trying not to cry again. Maybe a nice long shower would help, so I did just that. I stayed under the running water for more than an hour, then detangled my hair before stepping out. It did help, at the very least I felt clean and refreshed.

Today was going to be more or less going to be simple, there was a single task posted on Moodle and that’s all I needed to get done.

I settled into a comfy set of clothes and started drying my hair, only to be interrupted by a knock on my door. Who could that be? I threw the towel over a chair and opened the door, and my eyes are met with the last person I wanted to see.

“Hi, I’m here to speak to you” His mouth is agape and he looks a bit shocked.

Speak to me? Here to speak to me? My mind roared. Absolutely not. I was about to slam the door in his face, but he steps forward.

“Only as a professor!” He clarifies. “May I please come in?”

“Fine, but make it quick.” I demanded.

He sighs, “Thank you.”

He steps inside and I lock the door behind him. A waft of his scent hitting my nose, God how I missed that.

“I've emailed you several times about booking a tutorial, whether that be online or in person, and I haven't heard anything back. Me being here is a last resort. It's part of my job to make my students are well, and that if they're struggling, I can point them in the right direction.” He paused, finally taking his eyes off me to look around. “You have a nice place. It's what I imagined it would look like.”

“That’s not why you’re here And- Mr. Marston.”

“Yes, strictly business it is then, though, I don't want to treat it as such.” His eyes are on me again, but I refuse to give him the same attention choosing to fidget with my fingers instead. “I'll try and keep things brief for the both of us. You've been attending as usual, on top of your work as usual and nothing on the surface warrants concern, but because this is around the time where I need to be updated on essay plans and what you intend to do, us talking to one another is inevitable and for your records, and my peace of mind, we must.”

“It’s going good.” I replied, monotoned.

“It’s going good? Is that’s all I get?” He pushes.

“It’s an update, is it not?”

“It's a different response. In the past when we had our tutorials, that went on for at least an hour, you were so passionate about your subject, you made your own reading list and clearly planned out your arguments. You talked me through every point and asked for my opinion just to be sure you couldn't look at it from any other angle because you were adamant about not just getting it right but understanding different perspectives. Tutorials are only supposed to last around half an hour. Why do you think I always put you in the last slot? The look you have when you lose yourself to your ideas, when your eyes spark with this clarity I never want to stop you mid-thought or let that light disappear.” He rants and I wish he’d stop describing me that way.

“First and foremost, I am your professor. I’m here to nurture your curiosity and always have you searching for answers so when you don't show up to your tutorials I get concerned.”

“But I attend classes and all my work is completed. Is that not enough?”

“Your work is fine but that's not the problem I-” He paused and sighs for the hundredth time, “I want to ask how you are.”

“Now you’re interested in that?”

“I never had the chance to and even if I did try to talk to you would you have answered?”

Well shit, he’s got me there. I stay quiet and stare at my feet.

“You've been avoiding me for over a month now and I completely understand why. It's enough that you're still going to classes and doing your work, and I can't imagine what you must be feeling having to be taught by me even now. For the pain I still give you, I am sorry. For the pain I gave you that day, I am sorry.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Is that why you’re here? To say sorry?”

“I didn't come here under the pretense of apologizing but… it's something I’ve been meaning to do for a while now. The rumours have died down but that doesn't change the thoughts people still have. It's not something that we should live with, but we must.” He regains his composure quickly, shifting the conversation back to university. “Anyway, care to tell me anything else about your essay? Any avenues you're thinking of exploring? Any reading material that's caught your eye?”

“What about you? Howe you Andrew?” I finally find his face with my eyes.

“I thought you wanted to keep this strictly business.” He uses my words against me. “Don't worry about me. I want you to focus on your studies.”

He smiles and it makes my heart skip a beat.

“Have you… Have you seen the petition?”

“Yes, I’ve seen it. I considered resigning and letting them win.” My eyes widen at his confession.

“Rumours can get out of hand quickly. Heh, never in my life did I think I’d be called such names. Now people think I let students get close to me to get good grades, no matter the gender. I’m a danger to all apparently.”

He sounds tired too, that’s one thing I can sympathise with him.

“The dean’s comment eased some of the backlash, but this is a burden I’ll most likely carry for the rest of my career.” He continued.

I stay quiet, unsure how to respond to him. I supposed we’ve both been hurting in our own ways.

“Can I be frank with you?” He catches my attention again and I look up from my thoughts. “I don’t regret any of it. It was one of the most honest decisions I’ve ever made. My only regret is not protecting you when it mattered and- and I’ll never be able to undo that.”

Fuck he always makes things so difficult for me.

“When I saw that video, and those comments I panicked. The first thing that came to my mind was how you’d feel reading them and how you’d continue knowing people thought of you that way. I know how that feels, something similar happened to me years ago. It hurts being ostracised and judged on lies and when you wade in that water you still have to hold your head up high, so you don’t drown. But thinking back I was irrational. I let my own fears get the better of me and made a decision that was not only mine to make. I… I should have spoken to you before driving you away. I’m not asking for your forgiveness or pity. I just need to let you know this.”

“So what now?”

“That’s a good question, I would say we continue as we are now, I only have your best interests at heart and that should be more important to me than my feelings for you.”

“You… you still have feelings for me?”

“Of course, I do! You think they just stopped? I tried burying them, stifling them, but every time you walked into my lectures it was impossible not to remember all the things we experience together.”

“Andrew look at me.” I shake my head. “I look awful, I’m a mess.”

“I disagree. You’re still as beautiful as the day I left you. If not, even more. Your hair, I- I’ve never seen it like that. It might just be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

My hair? I haven’t even straightened it like I always do. How could he find this beautiful?

“Still, you said it yourself, this could never work. Why would you-“ “I’m saying my heart wants to follow you again. Despite it all, I still want you.” He sounds so desperate, and I can feel my heart in my throat. “But this isn’t about what I want. It’s up to you. I you want nothing to do with me outside of university, so be it. If you want to give this a chance, a real chance, I’m fine with that too.”

“Andrew I-“ “You don’t need to give me an answer now, or at all actually. Just… do what you feel most comfortable with.”

That day I had a lot more to think of as I stood in front of my mirror once again. My hair was still unstraightened and a thought crossed my mind. I remember Andrew’s words before he left.

“I know I said it before, but your hair really does beautiful. I can’t quite get over it. It suits you.”

Maybe if I was going to give this another shot, it was time to start afresh. No more secrecy and sneaking around. I stare at my hair in the mirror. Maybe it did suit me and it wouldn’t hurt to try something new, would it?

Months later I feel so much better, the air is clearer, the sun is shining and I’m finally ready to talk to Andrew again.

I sat the window of the café I asked to meet at, looking over at the door each time the bell chimed. This time I was right, it was him. He spots me quickly and walks over.

“Hi, I know I’m a little early. May I sit?”

“Of course, please do” I urge him.

“I see you changed your hair. It looks really good.”

I run my fingers across the soft curls on my shoulder.

“Less of a change more of an embrace I’d say. I thought it was about time I stopped straightening it and wear my natural hair.”

“Not that you were any less beautiful before, but I find it harder to keep my eyes off you now.”

I smile. My cheeks are probably flushed, I can feel them all warm like the fuzzy feeling in my stomach.

“You know it’s very similar to my decision.” I tell him. “It’s another thing I want to embrace and flaunt to the world.”

“And I'll accept it no matter what it might be. So, what's your decision?”

My ass is off the chair in an instant, and I lean over the table to pull his face to mine. I missed kissing him, I missed kissing him so damn much.

#sorry for ze long rant #i just wanted to let you whos reading this know that I love you!#every part of you!#zsakuva #sakuverse #asmr #andrew #andrew marston #hair is looking gorjus but my pockets hurt from buying hair products😭

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nickfowlerrr · 1 year

Text

waiting

pairing: dark!andy barber x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. angst angst angst. mommy issues. mentions of pregnancy. allusion to thoughts of abortion (this blog is firmly pro choice btw). self loathing. everyone is just really mean to poor reader. ☹️. oh and a mention or two of mr. ransom drysale 😶 if i’m missing something important pls feel free to let me know.

words: 5.3k

notes: i’ve had this fic in my wips since july and finished since the beginning of this month, i just never posted it lol but i’m so excited to share it finally. this definitely isn’t for everyone and really was just an indulgent write but if you do read this, i hope you enjoy the angst. comments and reblogs are more than welcome and appreciated. i’d love to hear what you think. thank you for reading 🖤

The flickering light in the nearly empty emergency room was unsettling. Your mind was taunting you as you sat in the waiting area, the chair beneath you growing harder and more uncomfortable with each passing minute.

You had jinxed yourself.

Cursing your fate mere hours ago and dwelling on how horribly things were going lately, thinking it couldn’t possibly get any worse.. Of course, it could.

In all honesty, you didn’t really know why you were here. Maybe just as an excuse to try and avoid the inevitable.

Maybe it was some sick sense of guilt hanging over you..

A part of you now desperate to remember the sense of comfort you could find in her - even if only for a few moments. As hard as you’ve tried these last 24 hours, you just couldn’t seem to remember what it felt like. You started to wonder if there was really anything to remember at all. But there had to be, right? She was your mother. There had to be. And then your phone rang. You didn’t let yourself think before you told whoever was on the other end that you would be there soon. You just called an Uber and went right down. Now here you were.

Whatever it was that drove you here - fear, guilt, obligation, a need for reassurance - that maybe this all wouldn’t be so bad, it brought you to this moment. Waiting with baited breath for your name to be called, for someone to escort you to her room, to finally see the damage she had done with her refusal to help herself. You felt bad, though you knew you shouldn’t. The damage she had done to you could be seen every time you looked in the mirror.

Stare too long at your reflection and you're lost again to the darkness that has managed to follow you all your life. You felt hollow a lot of the time, but the more apt word would be numb. Because you weren’t hollow by any means. No, you were full to the brim with hurt and anger and despair. You didn’t like feeling that. So numbness was better.

Just try to forget. Don’t let your mind sit in silence for too long. It was prone to wandering. And so were you. Maybe that’s why you were in the position you were now. You could never let yourself be content. Always searching, always reaching for something more. Something that could finally make you feel. Force you to feel. You just didn’t realize that it would lead you to him. That anyone could ever make you feel as much as he did. That you could ever feel like this.

The flickering of the light was bad, but the seemingly deafening silence was worse.

Until it wasn’t.

The entrance door slid open and you vaguely heard the footfall of whoever had just entered approaching behind you while the chilling breeze from outside came rushing in with them.

The shadow loomed over you and you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The creaking of the old chair as he sat directly behind you was irksome, as was his unwanted presence. Maybe if you just pretended he wasn’t there, you wouldn’t have to deal with him right now. Maybe he’d just go away for tonight. Maybe he’d be kind enough to leave you alone.

You could have scoffed out loud at yourself.

Kindness wasn’t really his thing. Not lately. And if you’d learned anything these past six months it was that the times you most wished he’d leave you be, were the times he was sure not to.

Waiting for him to move or speak or to do something, anything at all, was even more frustrating and did nothing to help settle the anxiety that was already turning your stomach. You couldn’t take the silence a moment longer. You spoke with your back to him.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been calling you all night,” he responded without answering your question. You could hear the edge in his tone and it only served to piss you off. He had the audacity to be upset when he knew what was going on. You weren’t stupid enough to just not show up when he expected you at his place, you texted him and told him where you’d be and why. It wasn’t like you were hiding from him. At least not in a way he could prove.

“Yeah, well, I've been a little preoccupied.” you said harshly. Biting your lip as you instantly regretted your tone. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but you couldn’t deal with the repercussions you’d get for it from him right now. You were already on the verge of breaking completely.

“Sweetheart,” he leaned forward in his chair as he spoke, voice hard, getting even closer to you as if his presence wasn’t already all together suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I’m sorry, I just- I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. I’ve been waiting since I texted you. They won’t let me back there.”

Truthfully, you were more upset about the news you’d gotten yesterday than you were about the wait - you weren’t even really sure you wanted to go back there. Their ignorance of you was more helpful than you were sure they realized. You couldn't be accused of not showing up, it’s not like it was your fault they never got to you. You were still there.

You didn’t speak that aloud though, and he wouldn’t have given you any time to if you’d wanted.

He clicked his tongue and got up without saying a word and walked to the receptionist. You watched as they spoke, his charm shining through as the young woman was in complete admiration at the man before her. If only she knew the real him. If only anyone knew what he was really like. But no. He saved his true self for you and you alone.

The shrill laughter of the woman pierced your ears as Andy smiled, charming oozing off of him. You were reminded of the first time you met him. How easily you had fallen for his act, much the same way. Laughing shyly at his compliments and smiling softly at that same smirk you now dread. The one that haunts your dreams at night after he finally grants you some peace. He’d taken over everything. Every aspect of your life. All of you.

He didn’t care. Not really. Not about the situation. Not even truly about you. He could pretend all he liked, but you knew the truth, whether he accepted it or not.

He didn’t care, he just wanted people to believe he did. That’s what it felt like. And damn did they believe. You had, too. Until you got too close. Finally saw him drop the facade.

Sometimes you could convince yourself it was better this way. To really know him, to know the truth. It helped you not feel so much like a fool anymore. And the way you saw people react to him, falling for every kind smile and caring word, that helped too. You couldn’t blame yourself, he was just so damn good at hiding it.

The woman behind the desk pressed a button and the door leading further into the hospital buzzed open. Andy smiled at her again, giving her a soft ‘thank you’.

He stood at the door, looking at you while holding it open, waiting for you to get up. You stared blankly a moment, your body not wanting to move. This was stupid. Seeing her wouldn’t change anything. It’d do no good for either of you. In fact, it’d probably just send you spiraling even further. You never should have come here in the first place. Never should have answered the phone to begin with. You had bigger problems to worry about. This was too much. It was all too much. Maybe you could visit her after she got home, but you couldn’t do this, especially not right now. Your heart was starting to race and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You opened your mouth slightly, wanting to speak but no words would come out. You vaguely heard Andy call your name, but didn’t respond to it, not until he loudly cleared his throat and broke through your trance. You looked at him immediately, his annoyance clear in what used to be such kind eyes. You couldn’t find the softness or warmth you did before. Only harsh blue staring a hole through you. You forced your body to move, albeit slowly, standing up and walking toward him. When you were close enough and he was sure no one was watching, he gripped your arm tight and pulled you through the threshold of the door. You stumbled forward, gasping slightly, and tried to pull your arm away, grimacing as his grip was too tight. You looked up at him, pleading without words, eyes begging him to relent. Instead of just letting go of you, he threw your arm away from him and out of his hold. Another needless aggression.

“Stop acting so goddamn catatonic,” he snarled.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” you murmured. “I can’t do this,” you breathed as you tried to move past him, back through the door you’d just entered through.

“Now you want to leave? The second I get you back here? You’re that fucking stubborn. You won’t let me do any nice thing for you, you just like when I’m mean to you, is that it?”

“Andy, please,” you tried to calm him. “It’s not you, I just, I can’t do this, okay. I can’t see her. Please. Let’s just go, I’ll go with you, alright? Wherever you wanted to go tonight, let’s go,” you pleaded. You really couldn’t fathom having to face her. Now that you were so close, you just couldn’t do it. Hell, you were begging the man you’d been trying to keep away from to take you anywhere else, you were that desperate to avoid this reunion.

Your head was down now, staring at his solid chest as he continued to keep you blocked from the door. You felt his hand come up, moving some of your hair out of your face. His touch, deceptively gentle. He moved to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You are leaving with me, you already know that. But we’re not going anywhere until I say we are. You’re gonna be a big girl,” he said, voice dripping with condescension as he gripped your chin painfully, “and do what you came here to do. You can’t run from your fears forever.”

You felt tears welling in your eyes but you fought them back with everything you had.

I hate you I hate you I hate you.

That was all that was running through your head as you blinked away the tears threatening to spill. He didn’t deserve your tears. Neither of them did.

You backed away, lips in a tight line and eyes hard.

A nurse was passing by as you did and Andy was quick to put on a show.

He grabbed your hand gently and it took everything in you not to rip it away. He pulled you back closer and wrapped his arms around you, burying your face in his chest. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he spoke softly. You couldn’t see his face, so you didn’t know for sure, but you would have bet money he smiled at the nurse as they passed by. Another phony display of comfort.

You weren’t even sure he realized why he was doing it, or how hollow of a gesture it was. You wondered if he really was that deluded that he could think this was a sincere intimate moment between the two of you. His heavy hand was rubbing your back in an attempt to be soothing, and seemed to confirm your thoughts. He turned you in his hold, your back to his chest as he ushered you in the direction of the room number he had been given.

Your feet were only moving because he was pushing you forward. You didn’t know what room you were going to, but when Andy stopped in front of a cracked door, you figured that must be it. You swallowed hard, turning to face him again. Having to see her on your own was enough to leave you feeling sick, but with the news you got yesterday still weighing on you and Andy hovering so close, you felt nearly immobile. The more you thought about what was about to happen, the more anxious you got. You started to think about the last time you’d had to introduce your mother to the person you were seeing. It went horribly, even he agreed. And Ransom had a pretty low bar set for family as it was. Not that he had any room to judge.. Thinking about him and everything that had gone down those few years ago gave you chills even now. How the hell did you constantly end up in these convoluted, fucked up relationships. You worried it said more about you than it did any of them.

“You, you can’t go in,” you said, shaking your head as you avoided eye contact. “She’ll…it’ll be a whole thing,” you tried to explain.

“She doesn’t know about me?” he sniffed.

“I haven’t seen her in over a year,”

“You don’t call?” You cringed at his tone. Accusatory, like he always was, already putting the blame for the rift you had with your mother on you without knowing any of the details. You swallowed the renewed lump forming in your throat and took a stabilizing breath before you responded.

“It’s been a while,” you choked, your voice thick and throat tight.

“Well I can introduce myself just fine,”

You moved to block him from entering the door, earning a stern glare in response.

“I’m only going to say this once,” he seethed. “Move.”

“Let me just talk to her first,” you refused.

His jaw ticked as he stared down at you, eyes narrowed. He huffed, agitated. You thought for a second he was going to listen, but you should have known better. He took a step closer, bending down and grabbing your face in his large hands.

“You’re gonna remember this exact moment later tonight. And you’re gonna regret it.”

His voice was calm, his eyes sure - and you believed him. Your shoulders sagged as you deflated. You weren’t gonna win this one. He brushed past you and entered the room with a knock on the door as he pushed it open. His previous irritation was quickly replaced by his mask of goodheartedness.

You heard her before you saw her, the lilt of her voice paralyzing you.

Suddenly you were a kid all over again, teary eyed and broken hearted at the words that spilled from her lips as she held up clothes to you in the department store, vicious in meaning but so gentle in her delivery. If you didn’t pay attention to the words, you could convince yourself she was reassuring you instead of tearing you apart. That’s what it looked like to passersby, you were sure. The unadulterated spite and barely concealed hatred was saved for you behind closed doors. Living under her roof was your own personal hell and once you got out from under her thumb, you refused to settle back down anywhere. Never believing you were secure, wanted. You just kept searching for what you were longing for, never accepting when you’d found it, or just too scared to stay. Always wandering to the next. You couldn't stay too long or they'd grow to despise you, too.

Who would have thought you'd find yourself trapped again after all these years, all the time you spent desperate to avoid it. It was almost comical. It had to be cosmic. It was like you ran right into him. You wanted to know what you had done in your past life to have cursed yourself to such a fate in this one. How did they keep finding you and what had you done to deserve it? Another devil holding you down. You should have seen it coming. Maybe you did. Maybe it just felt so familiar, the only love you knew as a kid. Anything else you'd received felt like a joke, like you didn't deserve it. Or maybe it was even simpler than that. Maybe you were just tired of trying to outrun fate.

The people you found yourself closest to were always the wolves in sheep’s clothing. Seeming so gentle and loving from the outside, but ready to tear you apart the second they get you alone. Exposed. Vulnerable.

Maybe you did deserve this. The second you started to believe things were finally going right for you, that maybe you could finally be happy, that seeming reality was shattered for you by the very hands you thought were helping put you back together after spending so much of your life feeling absolutely broken.

You didn’t really hear the words they were exchanging as you walked into the room after a moment, taking a heavy breath. When you finally focused in, you heard the end of their brief introductions.

“There’s my daughter,” she announced as you approached. “Look at you,” she intoned, looking you up and down before landing on your face. “You’re all done up. Got all your makeup on.”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest uncomfortably as you took a breath, looking away from her. You could hear the judgment clear as day laced in her words.

“It looks pretty,” she tried to compliment when you looked to her, face solemn. “I wish I could do my makeup like that,” she said smiling.

“Thanks, mom,” you replied, taking a step further into the room. You could feel Andy’s gaze on you, watching you intently, waiting for you to make your way to him, you were sure. “...How are you?”

You felt stupid for even asking, but you didn’t really know what else to say.

“Oh, ya know,” she tried to play off. “I’m fine, honey, I’m fine,” she assured you when you looked at her with a slightly raised brow. She took a breath. “I haven’t seen you in over a year. Haven’t heard from you nearly at all, either, I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah. Sorry,” you said, feeling guilty.

“Hey, that’s life, though. Gets hard. Trust me, I know,” she said before she considered you a moment. With just the tilt of her head you knew she was about to say something provocative. “You look so different…. A lot can change in over a year, though, right?” she continued, looking over to Andy deliberately.

“Uhm. Mom, this is Andy Barber. Andy, my mother,” you introduced them only out of obligation. Manners were important to both of them. Something else they had in common.

“So he told me,” she smiled. “I’m assuming you’re… dating?” You swallowed hard as you looked at her before looking to Andy.

“Six months now,” he responded for you, walking to where you were still standing, smiling softly as he put his arm around you. It was deceptively sweet, comforting. You almost wanted to let yourself relax into him, use him as a shield against the vitrole you knew would be coming eventually.

“Six months? Wow. That must be a record for you, right?” she baited you with a laugh. You didn’t respond, just looked down to the one teal tile on the floor amongst the sea of white. You could feel her eyes on you before she realized she wouldn’t be getting a response, turning her attention to Andy instead.

“So, what do you do for work?” she prodded.

“I’m an assistant DA,” he answered her.

“A lawyer?” your mother said, shocked evident in her voice as she looked at you. “Well, better make sure this one lasts,'' she told you. “And if it does last, you’d better get a prenup,” she laughed again as she nodded to Andy.

You stiffened as Andy did beside you and bit your cheek, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. She noticed your face and her scoff made your stomach turn. You looked up to see her rolling her eyes as she looked away like she was exhausted by you already. “You just always have to have an attitude don’t you?” she said almost under her breath, frustrated. “Why are you so sensitive? You’re an adult. Stop taking things so personally. Lighten up, grow some skin. I’m trying to have a conversation and it's like everything I say you have an issue with.

God, y/n, ya know, why are you even here? To make me feel worse? Remind me how much of a fuck up mother I am?” You knew it was coming. It always did. And yet you were still jostled by her flip. You felt Andy’s hand squeeze your waist as you unconsciously backed further into him, pressing closer to his side like a frightened puppy trying to hide yourself.

“Mom, I didn’t say anyt-”

“Why are you here?” she enunciated each word loudly, interrupting and talking over you.

“They called when they brought you in. I’m your emergency contact, remember?”

“Remember? Don’t talk to me like I’m senile.” she nearly sneered.

You bite your tongue and cursed yourself for feeling tears well up already.

“Yeah, that’s great. Bring out the waterworks. Put on a show, make me the bad guy. It’s always me, right? It’s always my fault,” she continued. “What do you have to cry for? I’m the one who was abandoned by you. You show up after over a year of rejecting my calls and one word text responses, what to make yourself feel better? Where were you when I needed you, huh?” she questioned, words like knives in your heart. You felt so small under her angry gaze. You felt like the worst person in the world. You felt like a child. A weak, scared, sorry child.

“Andy was it?” she asked, pulling her eyes from you as she turned them to Andy.

“Mr. Barber is fine,” he corrected, voice hard and defensive.

“Well, Mr. Barber,” she mimicked, “I’m sorry you have to see this, but let me just warn you. If I know my daughter, I know she's not much for sticking around. She’ll run as soon as she gets the chance. She’s like her father that way. The second she gets tired of you. The second you can’t offer her anything anymore,” the bitterness was dripping from her every word, “she’ll be gone.”

You gulped down the lump in your throat and squeezed your own hand to try and keep yourself calm.

“If you don’t believe me, just ask her ex. He’ll tell you the same thing,” she said.

“What are you talking about?” you said dumbfounded and exasperated.

“What do you think I’m talking about? Ransom,” she said as if it was obvious. The mention of his name had you frozen. “The second you found out he was written out of that will, you left him like it was nothing.”

“Are you serious? You’re gonna bring that up right now? He went to prison for murder, mom!” you raged. “And you know what, my relationships are none of your business,” you seethed.

“You slept with him for his money, you and I both know it. Just because it turned into something more after doesn’t change the way it started.”

“That’s not true,” you whispered angrily.

“I don’t believe you,” she told you, voice eerily level as tears renewed in your eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” you asked, voice breaking as Andy pulled you behind him.

“That’s enough. It’s clear this was a bad idea,” he stated, making you want to scream. As if you hadn’t told him as much before he forced you in here. You turned to the side as you held your head in your hands, trying to regain your composure.

“Oh my god,” your mother breathed as she took in your side profile for the first time. Her voice was full of worry and your head shot over to her immediately in response to your name being spoken in near reprimand. “Are...are you pregnant?” she asked out of nowhere.

“What?” you breathed.

“Your stomach looks bigger. Like there’s a bump there. It’s been a year but I know what you look like when you put on weight,” she started, eyes locked on your tummy. “And I know what baby weight looks like.. Yo-you’re pregnant aren’t you?” she asked again. She sounded..scared.

You were looking at her, confounded as Andy turned to you, looking much the same. He eyed you up and down before you felt his gaze settle on your stomach. Your hands came up to your lower belly self consciously.. Or maybe it was protectively.

You didn’t know how she knew. You’d only just found out yourself. You didn’t think you were showing noticeably in the slightest. Your periods were always irregular. Skipping cycles wasn’t anything you would think twice about. You were on the pill. You thought maybe you were just more bloated lately. Gaining weight wasn’t anything new for you, either. You didn’t piece any of it together right away. You had no reason to. You were protected. Or so you thought. And you had zero plans of informing Andy of the news. Not yet. You were still trying to process it. You couldn’t be a mother. You couldn’t become your mother. But what were you supposed to do? You could deny it easily enough, put the conversation off, but you knew Andy wouldn’t let it go. He’d want a test to know for sure either way. He’d find out the truth. You were planning to make your appointment next week to find out how far along you were. See if you had any options left.

“Are you pregnant?” Andy asked softly, walking closer to you.

Your mouth was dry. You didn’t want to answer him, but you knew you’d have to. You licked your lips before you spoke.

“I don’t- I- I think.. maybe,” you breathed, words fumbling while you were avoiding eye contact with both of them.

Your attention was caught by your mother lamenting your nickname, pained and sorrowful. “Don’t do this to yourself,” she pleaded. “You’re so young, you’re not ready to be a mother. You-”

“All due respect,” Andy snapped, “- which is near none,” he added, sneering as he turned on your mother while you watched in sudden shock, mouth slightly agape while your mind spun, “you have absolutely no say here. In fact, it’s none of your business. This is a private matter between your daughter and I - no one else. But if you really want to worry about anyone’s ability to mother, I’d focus on yourself first. You’ve done a real bang up job so far,” he said sarcastically.

“Andy,” you reproached, walking quietly to him, wanting to calm things before they got worse.

“We’re leaving,” he said to you while sending daggers to your mother who looked at you with tears in her eyes, “You never should have come here.”

You looked at your mom, discontent clear on your face.

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” she said, voice cracking. You had to look away before your own tears started to fall, lip wobbling. You weren’t sure what she was apologizing for, but it was the first time you ever heard her say those words sincerely. And it broke your heart. Andy grabbed your hand in his as he pulled you to the door and out of the room. The second you were past the door, you immediately broke down in tears. Everything hitting you all at once. Suddenly you were gasping for air as you felt like your legs were about to give out beneath you. Andy’s arms wrapped around you, turning you to pull you into his chest, his strength keeping you up as you leaned fully into him. One hand was holding your head while the other was wrapped around you, rubbing your back as you cried. He placed a kiss atop your head while he hushed you quietly, both of you standing in the empty hospital hallway.

You caught your breath after a minute and let yourself believe he was holding you so gently because he really cared. Because he was sorry for not listening to you. Because he wanted you to feel better, to comfort you. Whether it was true or not, it helped. Slowly you pulled away from him, and his hand came up to brush the tears off your puffy cheeks.

“How far along are you?”

“I really don’t know,” you said honestly. “If I had to guess, at least ten weeks,”

“How long have you known?” he asked quietly, thumb still stroking your cheek.

You looked at him doe eyed, lips set in a small pout. You opened your mouth to speak before he cut you off,

“I’m gonna tell you right now, don’t lie to me,” he warned, an ocean storm brewing in his normally brilliant blue eyes as he forced you to look him in the eye.

“Since yesterday,” you murmured. “I swear.”

He nodded slightly then took you by surprise, pulling you closer for a slow and deep kiss. Your brows were furrowed as he pulled away to allow you both a breath.

“You should have told me right when you found out,” he reproached.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. “I was still trying to wrap my head around it. I wasn’t sure how you’d react. I don’t know how this even happened,” you confessed. But Andy knew.

He’d been switching out your birth control for nearly four months now and had long since stopped wearing condoms with you, though that you were aware of. He didn’t think it was important to tell you about the swap he’d made with your pills, so he decided to keep that to himself. No need to get you worked up again. Especially now that he knew you finally were pregnant. He’d have to figure out a way to keep you as stress free as possible. Keeping you home would be easy enough, he basically had you living with him already, but he’d have to make that change slowly, you would surely resist his attempts to keep you at home if he made it too obvious.

He found your mother’s warning funny, though. As if you’d ever be able to run from him. You’d tried, but he was always two steps ahead. You didn’t go anywhere without him knowing, whether you knew that or not. You were his now. You had been since the day he first laid eyes on you. You weren’t going anywhere. As he thought about the changes he’d have to make now that you were pregnant, he remembered the punishment he’d given you a few nights ago. It reminded him you had another one coming tonight, too. He’d have to go about them differently now, though. As much as he loved discipling you, his tactics would have to change, he’d need to be even more careful with you. And more lenient, he realized. He loved your responses to spankings, but he was looking forward to changing your punishments up with edging or overstimulation now instead. Either way, he was sure to make you cry. Make sure you’d learn your lessons. And he’d get started tonight. You brought out the darkness in him, but you brought the softness out, too. He wanted to remind you how good things could be. There was just one more thing bugging him at the moment that he’d have to let out.

“Come on,” he instructed. “I parked in the garage.”

You walked with him to the entrance before he led the way to his car.

He opened the door for you and helped you in before he went around and got in himself. He sighed heavily as you sat in silence for a moment before he turned to you.

“Who the fuck is Ransom?”

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burbur-49 · 5 months

Text

Scarred Love: Chapter Four: Apologies And Understanding

A/n: I was a bit self-indulgent with a small part about the scars

Word count: 1,396

Cw: Ghoap x f!reader, soulmates, talk about scars, talk about past surguries

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7~ Masterlist

Johnny’s hold on you never lessens in grip. You’re not sure what to do until you feel two small drops of water hit your shoulder. By instinct, you wrap your arms around Johnny, slowly rubbing your hand up and down his back. Simon grabs your other hand, as if he’s seeking comfort from you as well. You wished you could read their minds, if you could, you would know what’s upsetting them.

“Johnny, Simon, what's wrong? Why are you guys crying?” You ask with the confusion painfully present in your voice.

Johnny hiccups, “I’m sorry, Lass.” He heaves out in a sob.

“Me too, I’m sorry as well.” Simon mumbles, his voice barely higher than whisper.

You still can’t help but wonder what is making them so upset. As you continue to comfort them, Simon by slowly rubbing his knuckles with your thumb, and Johnny by rubbing his back in circles, you start thinking about what could have upset them. They looked at your scars, that’s what caused this, but what about your scars? What’s upsetting them so much about them? You rack your brain for any answers you could possibly come up with.

There are a few you come up with that don’t make much sense, but you finally come up with one that makes sense: they’re upset with the pain that the scars caused you. You can’t help but think it’s sweet how upset they are with what happened. They’ve barely known you, and they’re crying for you.

“Oh, boys…” You coo at them sweetly, you want to kiss Johnny’s forehead, but you don’t, you don’t know if he’d allow you.

You let them cry it out. Johnny’s hold on you never falters, and Simon’s grip on your hand just seems to get tighter and tighter, but not to the point of pain. You wait for them to calm down, Johnny’s sobs turn into slow, deep breaths. Simon just wipes his eyes and cheeks after letting a few stray tears fall. You continue silently comforting the two of them. Johnny lifts his head from the crook of your neck, his eyes are red, and his cheeks are slightly stained with tears.

“Lass, how’d you do it? How’d you tolerate the pain we gave you? Don’t you hate us?” As he speaks, his voice breaks, as if he’s about to start crying again.

You make a little shushing noise before speaking; “I don’t hate you guys, don’t think that even for a second. I had a good network of people around me and plenty of pain meds.” You say the last part with a slight chuckle, hoping your joke might bring a smile to Johnny's face, maybe even Simon’s.

Your joke somewhat worked, the corners of Johnny’s mouth lifted for a second before falling back into a pout. Johnny points to a bullet-shaped scar on your shoulder.

“This, this, had to hurt. It hurt like hell for us...” He places his thumb on the scar and gently rubs over it.

You grab his face with both of your hands and look him in the eyes, “Johnny, it did hurt, but that’s part of the whole ‘soulmate’ thing; you get hurt, I get hurt too.”

He hugs you again, this time burying his hand in the hair on the back of your head. Simon scoots closer to the two of you, wraps an arm around Johnny, and an arm around you, pulling the two of you into a hug. The two of them pull away from the hug simultaneously, and Simon looks straight at you.

“Are there any scars you got yourself?” He asks, his voice laced with curiosity.

“Yes actually.”

You wiggle around in Johnny’s lap so that you’re facing Simon and both of your legs are on the couch. You point to your knees, where on the inner sides of both are two vertical scars from surgeries in your teen years.

“What’re those from?” Simon asks curiously with a raised eyebrow.

“I had to get surgeries to keep my knees from dislocating in middle and high school.” You explain with a shrug.

“Ah, so that’s where those came from.” Johnny says, as he adjusts you in his lap so he can roll up his pant legs, and you can see scars that match your own.

You look over to Simon and since he’s wearing cargo shorts you can already see the matching scars. Your heart beats faster as it becomes clearer and clearer that you’re all three of each other’s soulmates. You yourself start to cry at the overwhelming amount of emotions; happiness, excitement, nervousness, any other emotion you can’t put a name on. You never wanted a soulmate, you cursed the world for predetermining who you would be with for the rest of your life. But now, you’re thanking the world for giving you not one, but two soulmates.

Johnny and Simon look concerned as you start to cry, but they soon realize that you’re crying tears of happiness. They hug you and let you cry it out. It doesn’t take long for you to stop crying due to the questions racing through your mind. You wipe your tears and decide to ask the one that’s most predominant in your mind.

“What are we now? Are we dating or…?” The shy, nervousness you harbor creeps into your voice as you speak.

Johnny and Simon share a glance and then look back at you.

“Bonnie girl, we .... We want to court you properly.” Johnny replies with a sweet smile.

Simon nods in response, “Like take ya on dates and stuff like that.”

You nod in response, you want that, but there’s one tiny problem, you’re only in England because of a girls’ trip on a visa.

“I would love that, but there is one problem; I live in America. I’m here in England on a traveling visa.” You explain softly with a sigh.

“Shite…” Johnny murmurs as he rubs the stubble on his jaw.

“Darlin’, y’know there’s a soulmate visa, right?” Simon asks as he places a hand on your knee.

“There is? I had no clue, how does it work?” You’ve never heard of a soulmate visa, probably because you’ve never looked into it.

“If you can prove that you’ve met your soulmate, or in our case, soulmates, you can get a visa that lets you stay in the same country with your soulmate, as long as it’s your birth country.” He explains matter-of-factly.

“Oh, well, that’s quite convenient.” You say with a smile and a giggle. “So how do we do it?” You ask eagerly.

“I believe that we just have to go to the courthouse. I think it’s about the same as a marriage certificate, but you have to do a physical exam to prove that you’re really soulmates.” Simon clarified.

“Well, why don’t we go and do that tomorrow, what do you say, Lass?” Johnny asked with a smirk.

“I think we should.” You reply with a smile.

Simon looks at the clock and notices how late it is, it’s nearly two in the morning.

“Well, why don’t we head to bed now, it’s getting late.” Simon offered kindly with a hand gesture towards the bed.

“Yeah, sure, why don’t we do that.” You say with a smile.

Johnny smiles as well, but his smile falters for a moment, “What are our sleeping arrangements going to be?”

Simon thinks for a moment before looking back at you and Johnny, “Luv, if you want we can all share the bed, or if it makes you more comfortable, Johnny and I can sleep on the pullout couch, and you can have the bed. It’s up to you.”

Johnny looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen, practically begging you to say you want to share the bed.

You think for a moment, you decide you don’t want to deny Johnny.

“Let’s share the bed.” You say sweetly before you get off of Johnny’s lap.

After you get off of Johnny’s lap, you pick up your shirt, and put it back on. You walk over to the generously sized bed, and sit on the corner of it. You look over at Johnny and Simon.

“C’mon, you guys gonna get in?” You say with a smile as you lift the corner of the blanket, asking them to join you quickly.

Taglist:

@under-the-dirt @littlebluespoon @actuallyhiswife @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @cdej6 @whynotbad

#ghoap x reader #ghost x soap #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader #soap x fem reader #ghost x female reader #soulmates #Spotify #Scarred Love

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moonlessdusk · 3 months

Note

oh how i've missed your mkulia analysis. i love ur interpretation of mkulia, ur brain is so huge i was wondering if there is to be a season three, how would you personally want MKulia to happen if they were gonna be canon? and how would you want them to be handled? i feel you can go a lot of ways with it julia discovering she likes women arc, mkulia being one-sided/angsty mkulia, another character setting up mkulia, plain fluffy mkulia are a few i can think about! but idk what would hit the nail and/or work best for everyone

Thank you for indulging me anon, I’m pecking you on the forehead like a kitten ❤️

I think I kinda wanna start with what I hope the writers don’t do if they plan to make Mkulia canon. It’s sorta a blanket statement but I don’t want MK and Julia to get flanderized. TD’s writing has this issue where as soon as a couple becomes canon, the characters personalities are just reduced to the context of the relationship. I’ve griped before about Priya’s capabilities getting neutered this season for Priyaleb, Axel’s character development got derailed over Ripaxel, and Emma doesn’t get to be a character outside of Chase and twice now got eliminated right after him. Tbh the writing feels misogynistic in that sense, which might be why Rajbow has avoided this pitfall and Mkulia might avoid it too, being a wlw ship.

I hope Mkulia doesn’t just become a complete fluff ship because I’d also count that as flanderization. I still want MK to rib and annoy Julia but also have moments where she’s enthusiastically praising her, with occasional moments where she’s the serious one. Julia still needs have this 75-25 split of being the so called “straight man” to MK’s outrageous side vs just being being silly/flustered. This balance is what makes them enjoyable to watch.

I also don’t want MK to suddenly be flustered, I think she should stay the more foreword, self assured one. I just think Julia staying as the one more easily flustered and and self conscious one is more interesting for her character. Being worried about how MK perceives her is really the only context we see Julia feel vulnerable because otherwise she has such a good social and physical game in the competition that she’s never really anxious in a way she feels like she can’t take control.

I don’t think I really have a preference for how the show can set up the ship, they really can just do anything to establish it. If they don’t want to rehash the plot line of a character (almost certainly Julia in this case) realizing their sexuality, they really could just write Mkulia as casually getting closer (more touchy and having deeper conversations). It’s not like a point of conflict or anything, just passively happening. Maybe the other characters notice and it gives them sympathy points that help them dodge elimination because literally everyone else here votes based on who annoyed them that day or failed the challenge he hard enough as opposed to actually voting strategically.

However, season 2 was just full of rehashed plot lines so there’s a decent chance they’d do the discovering their sexuality thing again, which I’m not opposed to. I feel like they’d have to establish early that MK’s a lesbian though. I don’t know, maybe when Chris and Chef are explaining an unpleasant part of the first challenge MK makes a salty quip like “Ugh, sounds like my ex-girlfriend,”. Cut to Julia making a confessional where she looks flustered and says “Her what?”. Cut back to Bowie saying “Your what?” and MK rhetorically asks if she stuttered. Cut to an MK confessional where she shrugs and says something to the effect of she didn’t have a reason to bring up her sexuality earlier.

I think that Julia could periodically have confessionals where she shifts from defending herself with comphet (even if for clout), to denying she could be attracted to MK’s supposedly annoying traits, to a more pragmatic she can’t have a crush on her alliance partner because it would mess with her game, then finally lands on she can’t have a crush on her only real friend and risk ruining what they have if MK doesn’t feel the same.

Maybe further deterring Julia from saying anything is MK revealing that she’s actually had many short relationships that she cut off because she felt held back by them, she does pride herself on being honest and cold hearted, after all. But the piece of info MK omits is that she felt held back because her exes had an “I can fix her” mentality, whereas Julia loves MK’s sneaky and underhanded tendencies. I think it would be entertaining if MK catches on to Julia’s crush early and thinks it’d be hilarious to act oblivious while playing in to it until Julia makes a move.

I’m not going to get in to my specific hopes for season 3 story beats or what I’d realistically expect, but I’d like to see a midpoint merge Bowie/Julia double elimination where they really screwed over each other and MK and Raj go to see them off. Bowie has a quip about how it’s almost cute that his boyfriend and her girlfriend are both there. Julia is flustered but MK leans in to it because it’s funny, which gives Raj and Bowie a chance to say their goodbye.

This then leaves us with the MK vs. Raj, the wlw on mlm hostility feud I know a lot of use wanted. In this situation, Priya and Caleb are eliminated already so no one could oppose MK by association with Julia. Nichelle and Damien could still be floating around but I don’t think they would feel as threatened by MK. Wayne is gone too so Raj doesn’t have a morality pet. I’d like to see MK have moments where she goes “what would Julia do” and angst about not having her to lean on. Realistically it’s because MK’s social game sucks but it can have gay undertones. Then we get to the finale where both the gays lose, in actuality it’s because of Raj’s proximity to a winner and former runner up, and MK can’t win because she’s an antagonist and her proximity to a runner up. Maybe MK can get a kiss from Julia and promise of a date as a consolation prize. Idk if that’s verging into fanfiction territory but this more subtle approach is how I realistically think they’d write it if its not the main romance of the season.

A completely out there way they could write it is make them the first two boots. Cut the monologue every contestant has during their walk of shame. Instead have 30-60 second bonus clips like the ones from world tour but it’s framed as Julia and MK live-blogging the arrival of the next loser. But! It’s in the “Get Over Yourself” format where they’re mostly talking about themselves and we get just a couple lines from the eliminated contestant. Throughout the clips we can get a sense of their relationship progressing to romance.

On one hand, I think having a bunch of bonus clips with these two would be fun, on the other it would sort of suck to delegate them to this until the finale. But also I could hypothetically see it happening if network executives think featuring two gay couples in the show proper is too much to ask.

I guess what I really hope is that Mkulia just gets developed in some way at all. I’d hate for season 3 to start off by telling us they got together off screen, that would kill so much of the excitement over them being canon. I’d also hate for the relationship to be developed just to regress back to them disliking each other. TD’s writing has so many examples of taking a character or relationship (romantic or platonic), then getting to a point where they don’t know what to do with it anymore and go “fuck you for being invested” and ruin it.

I have hope though because if they could maintain Rajbow between seasons while writing season 2 without any fan input, I think they can do it with Mkulia. The writers have to be well aware by now that Mkulia is right next to Rajbow for most beloved ship of this cast so assuming there’s no network meddling, I expect season 3 Mkulia to be made canon and handled with care.

#total drama spoilers #total drama reboot #total drama 2023 #mkulia #td julia #td mk #total drama julia #total drama mk

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lillylvjy · 1 year

Text

Rises (the moon)

A/n// woah?! First Tommy fic, I see? Yes! It’s finally here after so long. But I did enjoy writing this. This is purely self indulgent so sorry if some parts seem specific! I tried my best! Also I hope y’all enjoy! It’s a fun little story so-

Warnings// kissing, cuddling, pure fluff, Wilbur and Aidan are- well they’re them. One sexual reference (about Wilbur and Aidan!). You are Aidan’s sibling, space??, literally just super cute and chaotic! And if I missed anything, please tell me!

Edited: nope.

wc: 2.7k….. I kinda went ham-

It was a colder night in the wonderful , yet kinda shitty city of Brighton and Tom invited you to go on a little “adventure” with him. So when you said yes, you didn’t think he’d be right at your doorstep when you hung up.

“Jesus- How long have you been out there Tom?!” You quietly yelled at him, not wanting to wake your neighbors as you pushed him into the warm apartment.

“About 10 minutes. I was debating on calling you or to just knock but I didn’t want to be that fool that comes here for no reason when you say no, so I called while standing here.” The blonde said, rubbing his hands together, shaking in his light hoodie and blue jeans. His cheeks, nose, and tips of his ears were bright red from the harsh wind of the late night.

You frowned as you cupped his face in your hands, trying to warm his face up with your hands. “Oh toms. You idiot.” You sighed out at him as you dragged him to your room and told him to sit on your bed.

“Your idiot.” Tommy mumbled as you walked over to your closet to find some hoodies you stole from him so he could layer up.

Smiling as you found a big sweatshirt that was his, walking back over to him and handing it to him. “Yeah. My lovely idiot.” You kissed his nose as you ran your hand through his messy hair. He leant his head onto your hand as you rested it on the side of his head, nuzzling into the warmth it provided him. You smiled down at the blue eyed boy as his eyes fluttered shut from the way your nails scratched his head.

“Ok now, out! I need to change!” You pulled him up by his hands and pushed him out the door as he groaned from the lose of warmth.

As you walked out of your room, dressed in sweats and one of Tommy’s sweaters with converse, you saw Tommy grab a big blanket out of your closet and your bag filled with all shorts of snacks you had in your home.

“Now what are you doing stealing all my food?!” You asked him as you furrowed your eyebrows at him. All he did was smile innocently at you before sighing as he saw the glint of ‘you better tell me or I’m walking your head’ in your eyes.

“To make it an even better adventure, we need snacks,” Tommy quickly looked at his phone and widened his eyes. “And we need to leave! C’mon!” Tommy put the bag on his back as you picked up the blanket.

“Why are we in such a rush again?!” You asked as you grabbed your keys and locked your apartment. As you turned around, you saw a small black car sitting in front of you and Tom. “Is that-“

“Hey bubs!” You saw your brother, Aidan, roll down his window as he smiled at you.

“Are you guys going to come in, or just stand there like losers?” Wilbur said as he leant over the wheel to look at you.

You narrow your eyes at him and walk to the car. “You should be glad you’re dating my brother. Because if you weren’t you’d be dead meat.” You harshly said to him as Tommy opened the door for you, following you in to get away from the cold wind that seemed to be hating on him.

“Eh, you love me to much to hurt me.” Wilbur winked at you through the rear view mirror as you scoffed and smiled at him.

“And who told you that?” You joked as Will started to drive away from your apartment and to… well wherever the hell you were going.

“Who knows. Maybe someone that is like really close to you, literally blood related, and I am currently dating.” Wilbur replied with a sly smirk on his face as he looked at Aidan.

“Will-“

“Aidan! Really?!” You yelled at him as Tommy started laughing at the interactions he was witnessing. Definitely not the worst though.

“What?! He thought you actually hated him! I had too.” Aidan raised his hands as he explained the situation.

You narrowed your eyes at Wilbur. “I want you to know that I will never hate you. You just have a way to irritate me sometimes. But never will I hate you. You’re practically my brother in law and you make my brother happy. Plus you’re really nice.” You smiled at him as he smiled at you through the mirror again. Aidan smiled back at you as he silently took Will’s free hand in his and played with his fingers.

Smiling at the two in the front, you scooted closer to Tommy and looped your arms together and connected your hands together as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“You didn’t tell me they were coming.” You whispers to Tom as he looked down at you, kissing your hairline and rubbing your hand with his thumb.

“I wanted it to be a surprise. It’s been some time since we’ve been out together, just the four of us.” Tommy explained as he spoke into your hair.

You smiled as you nuzzles deeper into Tom, content with the slow folk music Wilbur had put on as he silently talked to Aidan. You started to doze off from the warmth and comfort Tommy brought you.

Tom could tell you were getting sleepy so he slid down the seat a little so your head was in the crook of his neck. “Go to sleep love, I’ll wake you up when we’re there ok?”

As you nodded, you’d lowly started to slip in and out of consciousness as peaceful thoughts and sleep came over you.

**********

“Y/n. Y/nnnnn. Y/N!” You startled awake, quickly sitting you, hitting your head on the seat in front of you as you did so. Groaning in pain, you looked over and saw Wilbur losing his shit over what just happened and Aidan stifling his own laughs.

“Oh fuck off you two! That hurt you assholes.” You whined out to them as you scooted out of the car, rubbing your head.

“Y-Yeah, but it was so fucking funny! Your face I-“ You crossed your arms as you deadpanned at the tall lengthy man that was now rolling on the ground from laughter. “Aidan he-help! It hurts!” Wilbur laughs out as he holds his stomach.

“Good. Where’s Tom?” You asked as Aidan pointed to the boy setting up the blanket and pillows he brought under a tree. The tree has light hung on them and it looked beautiful.

“Holy- when did he do this?”

“Oh! That?! He called me for help this morning with it!” Wilbur did as he got his breathe back, dusting himself off as he walked over to us.

You smiled at the thought of Tom planning this all out for you and taking time to do this, just for you.

“This idiot.” You whispered out as you started to walk to him.

“Yeah, love sick idiot.”

“Will! Shut up, you’re the same way.” Aidan smacked his chest as he smiled at the couple that now sat on the blanket.

“So- you did this for me?” You asked Tom as you settled on the blanket, wrapping your arms around your body as a cold chill ran up your spine. Tommy noticed this, quickly rummaging through the carry on bag, digging up the sweater Aidan gave him “just in case.”

Smart-ass.

“Here. Take this my love. And yes, I did. You deserve something like this every once in a while. You work too hard to not get some relaxation.” Tommy said as you put the sweater on and smiled at him as you fixed your hair that was everywhere.

“Thanks.” You whispered out as you looked at the ground, biting your lip to keep the wide smile that was trying to come out of bring from spreading onto your face. Heat took over your entire body as you flushed at everything Tom did for you.

Your thoughts got interrupted by Tommy wrapping his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into him and kissing your forehead. “Anything for you my love. Oh! This isn’t even the best part. Come with me!” Tommy quickly got up as he held out his hands for you to take. You hesitantly took them, pushing yourself off the ground as Tommy held you in place, moving to stand behind you.

“Do you trust me?” He whispered in your ear as you smiled at the question.

“Always.”

“Good.” After Tom said that, your sight went pitch black, noting that Tommy covered your eyes with his hand. “Aidan! Stop making out with my brother and turn off the lights!”

“Ok! Ok, I’m going!” He yelled back as he unplugged the outlet of the lights from the portable one they had.

“Ok, now we’re gonna slowly walk- there we go. Ok, now don’t open your eyes quite yet!” Tommy told you as he took his hands off your eyes and moved to be in front of you. You used your senses to help you figure out where you were. The air smelt fresh with a hint of lime and maple from the trees. You could hear the music from the car still but it was fuzzy and muffled so you obviously moved farther away from it. “Ok- now open!”

You opened your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the new lighting. You saw Tommy standing in front of you with his hands out, doing some type of jazz hands. He had a big smile on his face as he looked up at the sky.

That’s when you say it. All of it.

The sky was painted with all sorts of purples and pinks and blues accompanied the lifeless looking night sky, with little specks of white written all over it. You could easily spot the constellations in the sky, the different planets that were apparent in the bright night sky. It was all so beautiful. All too unreal.

You smiled up at the sky as you started to slowly twirl, watching as the sky moved with your movements. You looked at Tom, a wide smile taking over both of your faces as you laughed out in joy. You walked up to him, throwing your arms around him and resting you forehead on his.

“This is beautiful Tommy. Thank you. For all of it. Thank you so so much-“ You cut yourself off as you quickly cupped his face and pushed your lips onto his. Tommy wrapped his arms around your waist as you stood on your tiptoes, getting impossibly closer to him. The kiss was slow, neither of you wanting to rush it or ruin the moment. Both of you poured all your love and appreciation in the kiss, wanted to show each other how much the other meant to them.

You pulled away slowly as you took a deep breathe, panting as you tried to get air in your lungs. Tommy rested his forehead against yours as he kissed your cheek, slowly moving to rest his head in the crook of your neck.

“I love you.” Tommy whispered into your collarbone as he slowly started swaying you both to the muffled rhythm that came from the car.

“I love you too.” You whispered out into the air as you placed a hand in his hair, slowly rubbing and playing with his hair. You started to hum along with familiar song that was playing off in the distance, making the Tommy fall deeper into a relaxed state.

“Hmm wanna watch the stars with me love?” Tommy asked as dragged you down onto the grass, lying down opening his arms for you to come lay in.

“Yes darling, I’d love too.” You giggled as you lied in Tommy’s arms, looking up at the sky as you admired every little thing about it. “Did you know that Saturn- is right there?”

Tommy chuckled, your head bouncing with his chest as he shook his head and replied, knowing full well he did, but loved hearing you talk about these things. “No I didn’t. Tell me more?”

“Yes so-“

From Tommy’s phone, it showed you had been talking about the stars and planets and space- for an hour and a half. And he was enjoying every second. Every bit of information you told him, he absorbed and kept. Just in case you asked him next time.

“Ok love. It’s currently 1 am. And you and me have some influencer shit to do tomorrow! So let’s go! We’ll get food and then go to sleep at yours?” Tommy asked as he helped you up from the wet ground.

“Perfect.” You smiled at him as you clasped your hands together, making your way back to the tree. As you helped Tom grab everything and put it back in the back and back where it needs to be, you both slowly made your way to Wilbur’s old, beat down car.

“Wait- let’s see how long it takes them to notice us.” Tommy pulled you back from the car as you both saw Aidan and Wilbur making out with each other.

Surprise surprise.

“Jesus- I don’t know who’s worse. They’re both equally as horny and desperate but damn-“ You said as you looked at the pair, grimacing at the scene in front of you. “He better not-“

As you were about to finish your sentence Wilbur started to pull at the hem of Aidan’s shirt, and that’s when you called it quits.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! PG-FUCKING 13 PLEASE!!” You yelled as you turned away from the two as Tommy just laughed at your comment. “Jesus- find your self respect Aidan-“

“Y/n- we talked about this. I dropped it a long time ago when I met this dumbass.”

“Well fucking find it! Don’t have sex in front of your sibling you idiot!”

“Oh shut it y/n! We weren’t gonna do anything!” Wilbur sighed out as he fixed his hair and shirt in the rear view mirror.

“Oh yeah? Well those little sneaky hands and these-“ you said pouting at Aidan’s hickeys on his neck. “Say differently. You can… get it on… later. But right now me and Tom are hungry and tired. So let’s go!” You sighed out as you got into the back seat of the car and waited for Tom to get in before leaving against his shoulder.

“Ok- where do you guys wants to go get food? There’s barely anything open right now but-“

“McDonald’s. It’s the easiest.” You matter if factly said as Wilbur scoffed and shook his head.

“What about Wendy’s? That’s always good.”

“Closed.” Aidan said as he showed Wilbur the website.

“Shit.” Wilbur cursed out as you laughed at him.

“Loser.”

“You little-“

“Will. Not my sibling.” Aidan quickly stopped Wilbur before he could say anything else.

“I agree with Y/n. It is really the easiest.” Tommy said as he ran his hands through your hair.

“Oh shut it! Don’t agree with them! Don’t be a simp-“

“Know what! McDonald’s it is. And Wilbur stop being a little hypocrite ok? You’re the same way. Now, come one! They close in an hour!”

“Ok, ok. I hate when you’re right.” Wilbur mumbled out as Aidan smirked at him.

“So… all the time?” You asked no one in general. Wilbur scoffed as you saw Aidan nodded.

“Pretty much-“

“You’re lucky you’re dating my brother… and I’m dating yours.”

“Mhm. You love me.” You sleepily said as your closed your eyes, sleep taking over your body every waking second.

Wilbur chuckled and nodded. “Yeah- yeah I do.”

The rest of the car ride was spent with Wilbur and Aidan singing along to the CD Wilbur made and Tommy playing with your hair and whispered silly little nothings between the two of you.

“I love you.” You whispered out to Tom as you looked up at him.

He smiled back down at you as he pressed a kiss onto your temple and placed your head on his chest.

“And I love you more, my star.”

Taglist: @mysticalsoot @anon-duck @art3m1s-adelia (if anyone wants to be added, all you have do to us ask lovelies!)

#lilly writes #tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader #dsmp tommy #tommy x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #dsmp x reader #dsmp imagine

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