#should I ask the girl I met at book club last night if she wants to take the ticket 🤔

[parsleymusic]

~

#friend forgot about our plans tonight #happy birthday to me!!!! 🫠 #we’re getting brunch on Sunday now but it still stings a little lmao #should I ask the girl I met at book club last night if she wants to take the ticket 🤔 #should I be B O L D???? #i probably will not #but I’ve already asked two people and they’re busy 🥴 #(we were going to see a play tonight for context lol) #no one will see this but still #I agreed to clean my friend’s apartment tomorrow as she moves out so my weekend is looking amazing!!! #anyway

[bluewasthecolor]

How You Get the Girl

Word Count: 3117

Warnings: None

A/N: Getting back into my writing era, I guess. This is for @lana-del-reys-gf because apparently this is something she wanted me to write and I (being the unbelievably kind and generous human that I am) happily obliged. Obviously, it's also for anyone else who wants to read it. As always, let me know if you like it and what other requests you have!

“G, wait.” You grab your best friend’s hand, stopping her before she can drag you into the bar. Georgia looks back at you with knit eyebrows. “I’m not sure about this. I don’t want them to think I’m trying to ruin your team bonding time.”

“Oh my god, Y/N.” She groans, tugging on your hand. You refuse to budge. “I already cleared it with the girls, they’re happy to have you. Who wouldn’t be excited to spend an evening with the Y/N Y/L/N, after all? Come on, idiot.”

With that, you allow her to lead you inside and to a booth filled with her Bayern teammates. They greet you, introducing themselves one by one (although you already know all of their names from playing against them at both the club and international levels for so long), and then settle into easy conversation. You observe, still not wanting to intrude on their time together despite Georgia’s insistence that you wouldn’t be. It’s nice to be on the outside for once, actually. You’ve been with Barcelona for so long that it’s impossible for you to feel like a stranger with those girls and while that’s usually a nice feeling it can get a bit overwhelming. They all know you so well that it’s impossible for you to be on the outside. Seeing a different team dynamic than the one you’re used to is unfamiliar but refreshing. 

“Hey, Y/N, wanna help me grab another round of drinks?” Sydney interrupts your train of thought, extending her hand to you. You allow yourself to be pulled to your feet and accompany her to the bar. 

“I noticed you getting a little quiet there and wanted a chance to get to know you on my own.” She explains as you walk side by side. You’re not complaining–Sydney’s gorgeous and you’ve been sneaking glances at her all night. 

“Ask me anything, I’m an open book.” You smile at your feet, appreciating the German’s genuine tone. 

“How did you and Georgia meet, exactly? You’re American and play for Barcelona, so I’m not exactly seeing the connection there.” She asks after you place your orders. 

“I actually played for City a ways back. We met there and something just clicked–she’s been my best friend ever since. I wanted her to come to Barca with Lucy and Keira last year but that clearly didn’t work out.” 

“I mean, it worked out for us.” Sydney jokes, nudging you. “G’s been a beast here. You should think about making a move - Munich’s a pretty cool city. Would you ever consider that? Leaving Barcelona, I mean?”

“Maybe someday, but not now. The team chemistry is unbelievable, you know? It feels like home and that’s a hard thing to find.” You surprise yourself with your honesty. Something about Sydney just makes you feel instantly at ease. “But tell me something about you. I feel like I’m doing all the talking here.”

“What do you wanna know? I’ll give you three questions.”

“What’s your favorite place in the world?”

“That’s too easy, even you should know that and we just met tonight. Munich. It’s my home.”

“Fair, fair.” You nod to yourself. “A harder question this time, then. What would be your perfect date?”

“I’m easy to please, honestly. Dinner, a walk, something with time for plenty of conversation. Last question.”

“Can I have your number?” The German woman is clearly surprised by this, but she smiles and gestures to your phone. You hand it to her and she puts her number in. 

“I’ll be expecting a text.” She winks at you and turns to head back to the booth, drinks in hand. You trail behind her, unsure of how a night out with Georgia and her teammates led to you getting Sydney Lohmann’s number. This was not at all how you’d expected the evening to go, but you weren’t exactly complaining. 

One Week Later

“Y/N! Get off your phone and join the fun!” Mapi teases from her spot on the couch, lunging to grab your phone from your hand. You dodge her, but in the process find yourself rolling onto the floor.

“You have been on that phone a lot lately, Y/N.” Keira chimes in. “Who are you talking to on that thing?”

“Sydney.”

“Sydney?”

“Lohmann.”

“As in the one that plays for Bayern?” This is Mapi again, her voice incredulous. You nod, blushing. “Y/N, I can’t believe you! I thought you were just visiting Georgia when you went to Munich but you were getting yourself a girl. And here I thought I was the slut of Barca.”

Mapi’s final comment earns her a shove, but in reality, her comments don’t bother you all that much. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but you’ve found yourself falling for Sydney quicker than you thought possible. She’s witty and kind and if you could talk to her 24 hours a day you would. Just as you’re thinking this, your phone buzzes.

Syd: Y/N? Still there?

Syd: You’ve gone dark on me

Y/N: Sorry, got pulled away there. 

Syd: All good. I had an idea while you were gone, though.

Y/N: Care to share?

Syd: Well, I’ve got some time off coming up…

Y/N: …?

Syd: And I was thinking that maybe I could come visit you

Syd: Only if you’re up for it, of course

Y/N: Are you serious?

Y/N: I would love that.

You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face as you continue to text Sydney about her upcoming visit. The noise of your teammates fades into the background and she is all you can focus on. The fact that she’s so willing to come see you after only one in-person conversation adds a level of attractiveness to her persona that is new to you. You’re not used to women being so invested in spending time with you but it’s a welcome unfamiliarity. 

“Y/N, we’re going to get gelato, let’s go!” Ingrid’s voice pulls you from your thoughts and you look up to see your friends gathered at the door, looking at you expectantly. You scramble to join them, pulling your shoes and jacket on haphazardly. You slip your phone into your pocket, wanting to focus wholly on your team for the remainder of the night, but Sydney doesn’t leave your mind once.

Three Weeks Later

You shift nervously at the kitchen counter, trying not to let your anxiety get the best of you. Your eyes are locked on the door and you can’t seem to do anything other than wait. She’ll be here any minute and all of your attempts at distraction have failed. You’re not even sure why you’re so nervous–it’s not like this is your first time meeting and the two of you text practically nonstop. Still, though, this will be your first date (and, in true sapphic fashion, it will extend through the weekend as you insisted she stay with you instead of at a hotel). At this point, Sydney knows you better than most but you can’t shake your worries that when she arrives she’ll regret everything. 

All of this goes out the window when the door to your flat opens, however. You’ve intentionally left it unlocked and instructed her to let herself in, wanting to avoid the awkwardness of having to greet her at the door. Sydney walks in looking as though she’s just come from a spa rather than the airport, skin glowing and not a hair out of place. She stops in front of you and you have to remind yourself how to speak.

“You’re here.” Is all you can manage to say, a smile spreading across your face. She smiles back at you and nods, stepping closer to you. 

“I’m here.” She murmurs, grabbing your hands and pressing her forehead to yours. The sudden contact makes you inconceivably nervous, causing you to squirm out of her grasp.

“So!” Your voice is overly loud, compensating for the nerves you’re feeling. “I guess I should give you a tour of the place. This is the kitchen, obviously, and that’s the living room,” You make an awkward sweeping gesture in that direction. “I set up the sofa bed for you–it’s actually pretty comfortable. The bathroom’s over there and if you need anything else just let me know.” You begin to back slowly towards your room. “I’m gonna, um, go get ready now. Bye”

“Y/N?” Sydney stops you before you can shut your door. You look at her slowly, praying you haven’t somehow already messed this up, but a smirk is playing at her lips. “Pick you up at 6.”

-

Six o’clock comes much quicker than you anticipated and, before you know it, Sydney is knocking on your bedroom door. You swing it open to find her looking even more radiant than earlier in the day if that’s possible. Her brown hair is loose around her shoulders and she’s dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. The simplicity suits her and will be perfect for your evening plans.

“I wasn’t sure what to wear since you refused to tell me where we’re going, so I had to guess.” She grumbles as you drag her out the door, grabbing the bag you had packed earlier. 

“You look perfect.” You reassure her, still not giving up any details about the date you have planned. Since the city is yours, it only seemed natural that you take the reins on planning your date, although Sydney had attempted to make an argument that she could show you parts of the city you’d never seen before (you were doubtful). The result of your careful planning means that much of your anxiety has dissipated. For the most part, you know what to expect for the rest of the evening and that fact alone brings you relief.  

After walking a ways, you arrive at a small park with a view overlooking the city. You lead Sydney to an empty spot in the grass and spread out the picnic blanket you’d stashed in the bag. She sits, pulling you down along with her. You immediately busy yourself with unpacking the meal you’d brought, not wanting to ruin the moment, but as it turns out you don’t have to worry. The silence is broken by Sydney’s laugh. You look at her, confused.

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.” She explains. “You just—you brought all my favorite snacks. I wasn’t sure what to say.”

“You sound surprised.” You say, raising your eyebrows. “You don’t think I pay attention to what you tell me?”

“No, it’s not that! I’ve just never had anyone plan such a specific date for me and I was…nervous I think? Not because of you! I mean, yes because of you, but, like, in a good way.” Sydney’s rambling proves to you that her nerves are just as high as yours and this makes you feel infinitely better–and instills you with a new sense of confidence. 

You lean forward, pulling the German in for a kiss and effectively shutting her up. It’s the first hat you share and it’s everything you’ve been waiting for. The second that your lips meet you know that it will be the first of many, not only tonight but for many months–years, even–going forward.

Later, when you return to your apartment, you linger in the doorway to your bedroom watching Sydney bustle about. She’s unpacking and getting water and somehow it’s all just so perfect. You’d set up the sofa bed for her, not wanting to be presumptuous, but all of your worries have gone out the window. Now all you want is for her to be the one sleeping next to you.

“Syd.” Your voice startles her and she looks up at you. “Do you wanna–you don’t have to–but would you want to sleep in my room, um, with me?”

“In your room.” A smirk is slowly spreading across Sydney’s face as she walks towards you. “With you. In your bed? I thought you’d never ask. I thought I was going to be banished to the sofa forever.”

“Shut up,” You can’t help the smile that creeps into your voice as you take her hand and lead her into your room. This is certainly going to be a very good night. 

Three Months Later

“I can’t just up and leave, Sydney! I have people here–a home here. I would never ask you to leave Munich for me.” You resist the urge to throw yourself face down onto the sofa as you pace, in the midst of a heated argument with your girlfriend.

“I don’t understand though, it’s not like I’m asking you to give everything up. Bayern made an offer, I’m just saying it would make a lot of sense. G is here and your family is back in the States anyways, so it’s not like you’d be losing much by moving.” You can hear Sydney sigh through the phone. “I want to be with you but this whole long-distance thing is hard, Y/N.”

This argument has been going on for the past week, ever since you were approached about a possible transfer to Bayern. You didn’t really even consider the offer but when you told Sydney she seemed to think that you should accept it. You can’t see yourself leaving Barcelona anytime in the near future, long-distance or not. 

“I know it’s hard, Syd. I know that. I miss you like crazy but I can’t leave my home.”

“So what do you suggest? We just keep doing long distance forever?” The bite in Sydney’s voice is unmissable and you wince slightly.

“I don’t know–I mean, no. Not forever. We’ll figure something out but I can’t leave right now. I’m not sure how else to explain it to you.”

“Let me know when you have a plan.” 

It’s clear that the German woman has become checked out of your relationship all in a matter of seconds and you know it will be easier for both of you if you don’t prolong the inevitable any further. 

“I think…” You pause, willing yourself to think of another solution. “I think we both need some space. Maybe this is it for us.”

“Yeah. Maybe it is.” Sydney’s voice has turned cold and there’s a distinct lack of emotions behind her words. “I guess this is goodbye.”

And with that, after the three blissful months you’d spent together, Sydney hangs up the phone, taking your heart along with her. In a rush of emotion, the tears you’d been holding in since your argument started begin to flow. You weren’t together for all that long, but even in the short months of your relationship, it became glaringly obvious that Sydney knows you better than anyone else–better, even, than Georgia. She listened and asked questions and was so unbelievably genuine that you often found yourself in disbelief that someone this perfect wanted you. You had just lost all of that. Everything you’d built, everything you had yet to build, was crumbling around you in a matter of moments.

One Week Later

A sudden knock on your door wakes you from your nap and you roll over to look at the clock, confused about who could be trying to visit you right now. It’s your one day off and you’re fairly certain that you’ve made it clear to Mapi that if she even thinks about dragging you to some coffee shop you’ll kill her. It’s been a week since the breakup but your schedule has been so busy that you really haven’t had time to wallow–today is the day you’d set aside for that. Somebody, however, seems to have different plans. Groggily you stumble to the front door and open it–the person on your doorstep isn’t Mapi or Keira or any other of your Barcelona teammates, but someone much more shocking. 

“Can I come in?” Sydney is soaked from the downpour outside and looks as frazzled as you feel. You stand to the side, letting her walk into your apartment. She sees herself over to the couch and sits down. You opt to stand in the kitchen, wary of why she’s here (both in your apartment and in Barcelona in general). 

“What are you doing here, Sydney?” You ask, arms folded against your chest. “You couldn’t have given me a little warning?”

“I’m sorry, I just–I had to see you.” The midfielder’s voice is shaky and as you look at her longer you can see just how red and puffy her eyes are. She’s been crying. “The way things ended between us, I just couldn’t bear it. I don’t want us to be over.”

“Well, me neither, but you made it pretty clear that if I don’t move to Munich we’re doomed.” As you speak, you move to sit next to her on the couch. “Unless that’s changed?”

“I still think living in different countries isn’t ideal–” Sydney starts, and with her words, your hopes deflate.

“So nothing’s changed then.” You cut her off, voice flat.

“You didn’t let me finish. I do think it would be easier if we were in the same place.” She takes your hand as she says this, and you don’t pull away. “But if I have to choose between what’s easy and what I want, I’m choosing what I want every time. Especially if what I want is you.”

“Okay, but Syd, you were right before. This whole long-distance thing is really really hard. There has to be something to make it easier, right?” You look at her almost pleadingly, hoping she’s come up with some sort of solution.

“I mean, I do have an idea.” Your ears perk up at Sydney’s words, “It’s not perfect but it might work. In the off-season, we find a place together–I don’t care where but I think for both of our sakes it might be best if it’s not Munich or Barcelona. Or we both evenly split time between the two cities? Either way, we’re always together. During our seasons we see each other every chance we can. It will still be hard but I think we can do it. What do you think?”

Instead of answering, you pull Sydney into you as a response. As her lips meet yours you are reminded of your first kiss, all those months ago on your first date. This kiss is different–you’re much more familiar with one another now, for one–but you get that same feeling as you did on that night. This kiss is indicative of much more than what is right in front of you. It’s indicative of everything to come.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #sydney lohmann x reader #sydney lohmann #sydney lohmann imagine

[loveofmychips]

get him back! - Steven Hyde x Reader

A/N: first time writing for That 70s Show! This is based on Season 1, and inspired by the new song, ‘get him back!’ by Olivia Rodrigo. I heard the lyrics and thought immediately of Hyde. Hope you love this, and let me know what you think. DISCLAIMER, I DO NOT SUPPORT DANNY MASTERSON, I AM WRITING FOR THE CHARACTER HYDE ONLY!!!

Summary: you decide you want to get your ex back….just in a more ‘sinister’ way

Pairing: Steven Hyde x Reader

Word Counter: 3,512

Warnings: angst, slow burn, cursing, toxic relationship (pls don’t think this is healthy lol), lotsss of arguing, mentions of sex, harassment, alcohol

~~~~~~~~

I met a guy in the summer, and I left him in the spring

He argued with me about everything

He had an ego and a temper and a wandering eye

He said he's six-foot-two, and I'm like, "Dude, nice try"

You were introduced to the gang in the summer by Donna. You had been talking to her throughout sophomore year, and she decided you would be a perfect fit for the group.

Everyone was kind of weird, but you found it fun and loved how things were always different with them, especially when it came to Steven Hyde.

You had always thought he was cute, even before officially meeting him. His curly hair was something you wanted to touch and play with, and his eyes hidden behind sunglasses made him seem mysterious. Not to mention, who doesn't love a ‘fuck the patriarchy’ kind of attitude.

So, despite it taking a while to happen, you both eventually started dating at the beginning of the new year. And it was a complete trainwreck.

Hyde was the worst boyfriend at times. He never wanted to do the things you wanted, he would show up late to pick you up, and sometimes it felt like you were just convenient eye candy.

What made it worse? It was clear he had a thing for Donna, despite her and Eric wanting to be together.

After a month, others started to notice.

You were in the basement with Eric, working on a school project when Donna walked in.

"Hey, y/n, can we talk?" Donna asked as she sat on the couch.

"Well, we are kind of busy," Eric started before you interrupted with, "Yeah, sure."

Eric looked taken aback but put his book down anyway and sat back. "Right, it's not like we need to do schoolwork. Who needs education?"

"Eric, shut up," Donna rolled her eyes. "Look, we need to talk about you and Hyde... I don't know if you should keep going out with him."

There was an awkward silence before Eric got up. "I'm gonna... go anywhere but here," he said before rushing up the steps.

"What are you talking about?" You sighed, putting down your own books.

"He treats you like crap! I was at The Hub yesterday, and he showed up. I asked if you were with him, and all he had to say was, 'No,' and I know for a fact you were excited to have a movie night with him last night. You don't deserve to be treated like that!" Donna insisted.

You hesitated for a moment. That's where he was. It was bad enough he never showed up for your date at the theater, but the idea that he was with Donna instead made it even worse. You ended up drowning your feelings in buttered-up popcorn and the movie "Fun with Dick and Jane."

Most of the time when he wanted to hang out, he would drag you out to multiple parties and any club he could sneak you both into. If it was something you wanted to do, like a movie night, you would find yourself alone.

You shrugged it off, telling Donna, "Oh no. We actually canceled it. I wanted some alone time."

Donna saw through your excuse and tried to argue with you, but that day you insisted on moving on.

It didn't get better. You had more interactions similar to it, not only with Donna but soon with Eric, Jackie, and even Fez, all within the same week.

He said I was the only girl, but that just wasn't the truth

And when I told him how he hurt me, he'd tell me I was trippin'

But I am my father's daughter, so maybe I could fix him

"Hyde, can we talk?" You asked softly as he flipped through a magazine next to you on the bed.

"What about?" He mumbled, not really paying attention to you. Not like he had been for the entire two hours you'd been at his house.

"Hyde, you stood me up last week. Can you put down the magazine?"

Hyde huffed and threw it down, saying, "There. What?"

You took a deep breath and sat up on his bed. "Look, I know you're not always the most romantic or anything, and I'm not trying to demand too much, but can we agree that if we set a date, you'll show up to it? It's really embarrassing for me, and others notice-"

"It's none of their business. Since when did you care what the others think?" Hyde questioned, his eyes narrowing at you behind his dark-tinted sunglasses. Despite wearing them, you always could tell his expression behind them.

"Well, I care when I get told by everyone that you treat me like shit," you stated in a point-blank manner.

Hyde chuckled a little, as if you were stating lies that were barely grazing his tough, shielded skin. "I don't treat you like shit."

"You ditched me last week! I think I have a right to want to talk about it, instead of you grunting your way through it like a caveman," you defended, glaring at the man in front of you.

Hyde was pissed. You always let him off the hook, and the one time you tried to talk about it, he was acting like you were the bad guy.

"I'm not grunting! You're making a big deal out of nothing. This is why guys are better off being single. Girls make everything so complicated," Hyde snapped.

You were shocked he suggested the idea of it, but why should you be? It makes sense, doesn't it? The reason Hyde is a horrible boyfriend is that he doesn't want to be your boyfriend.

"Really? You mean that?" You whispered. "Then let's make it easier for you. We're over."

"Y/n, hold on-"

Before he could say anything else, you grabbed your jacket and rushed out of his house. As you left, you vaguely heard his mom yelling at you both to keep it down because her program was on.

Luckily, she wouldn't have to worry about that anymore.

So I write him all these letters, and I throw them in the trash

'Cause I miss the way he kisses and the way he made me laugh

Yeah, I pour my little heart out, but as I'm hitting "send"

I picture all the faces of my disappointed friends

Because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do

Two months later, you were still hanging out with the gang.

Strangely enough, you were fine with being around Hyde once you got over it. At least you thought you were. Hyde only tried once to talk to you about breaking up. As quickly as you shot him down, he backed off completely, and you two practically never had conversations longer than short one-liners of insults back at each other.

Despite all the bad, you found yourself mostly remembering the good. The reasons you liked him in the first place: Hyde made you laugh, he was one hell of a kisser, and he knew how to comfort you if you were upset about school or anything else that wasn't about him.

You found comfort in your journaling, writing out your thoughts constantly because if you admitted to Jackie or Donna you missed him at night, then they would surely yell at you.

You were content writing it out. At least you thought you were.

Prom night was coming up, and people were pairing up one by one, leaving you with only two options: go with Fez or someone you barely knew.

Both were not ideal.

You were with the girls at Donna's house as she showed off her cute outfit for Prom.

"These are the shoes I'm wearing to Prom! Aren't they cool?" Donna said, holding up silver low pumps with an excited smile.

"Oh my God, I was gonna get new shoes except Michael didn't ask me," Jackie replied before you could compliment the cute shoes.

Donna looked a little discouraged before turning around and grabbing her dress off the cabinet above the fridge. "You like my Prom dress, right?"

"Of course! It matches your eyes!" You grinned, holding the end of the beautiful blue satin dress.

"I was gonna get a new Prom dress... except Michael didn't ask me," Jackie said with a pouty expression, making you and Donna just awkwardly nod. Luckily, Donna knew how to move the conversation along.

"I'm so nervous about Prom! I think it's gonna be the night that Eric and I... you know?" Donna hinted, making Jackie state, "Oh my Gosh, that's when Michael and I were gonna do it the first time!"

"You and Kelso did it like two months ago, and like thirty times after that!" You groaned out. "Look, why don't you just ask Kelso to go with you if you're so desperate?"

Jackie gasped and looked on the verge of tears. "Okay, first off, it would've been the first time at a Prom! Second off, this is the Prom! This is not the time for your stupid feminist crap!"

The door opened to reveal Eric and Kelso. The door slammed, leading to a usual standoff between Kelso and Jackie. It felt like a wild west showdown.

"Hello, Michael."

"Hello, Jackie."

"I'm just here helping Donna get ready for Prom... because Eric and Donna are going to Prom," Jackie stated, with tears still in her eyes.

"Yes, we are," Eric nodded in agreement, making you roll your eyes at the awkwardness. Kelso chuckled and replied, "I'm going to Prom...". You and Donna looked at him in hope to end the pain of Jackie complaining, while Jackie's eyes widened up until he finished his sentence, "I'm taking Pam Macy."

Donna immediately stood up and bolted out of the room into her living room, to which Eric followed nervously.

"Well, I'm gonna go—" You started heading for the door until Jackie yanked your arm back to sit down at the dining table again.

"Well, I have a date too," Jackie stated in a matter-of-fact tone, making you look at her confused. Why in the hell would she lie about that?

Then Kelso's reaction made everything make sense.

"Who is it? What's his name?" Kelso interrogated, as if he was a detective finding out who the killer is. Jackie was a spoiled brat, but damn did she know how to get a reaction out of Kelso.

"His name is... not important. What's important is he's better than you, in every conceivable way," Jackie smirked, leaning back in her chair all smug.

"Well. Damn, Jackie! That can be anybody!"

I wanna get him back

I wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad

Jackie's brilliance shone through in her unintentional advice on getting back at Hyde. As for your story, here's the continuation with grammar and punctuation improvements:

That day, you left Donna's house with a passion you had never felt before. You wondered if this is how Hyde felt when he pulled pranks on the boys or did something bad. It felt risky, but also so damn good.

You ended up going to The Hub and found a guy from school, Ethan. You never had a particular interest in Ethan. He was sort of bland but popular at school for being on the basketball team. So why him?

You distinctly remembered that one afternoon when you were dating, Hyde thought the guys who played basketball on the team were stupid for wearing uniforms with shorts.

Plus, Ethan was still somehow available, so it was perfect, right?

Well, that's where you messed up. He was available because he was a creep. He was already hinting at getting you into a hotel room before you could even figure out what time he was picking you up.

As much as you'd love to change your mind, you knew you needed a date. The plan wouldn't work without one, plus Jackie would kill you for going stag. So you went with it.

The night of prom, Ethan showed up at your door with bad intentions in his eyes.

You wore a lovely (f/c) floor-length gown with black heels that fit wonderfully to your figure. Your (h/c) hair was left down and hairsprayed to perfection, and you held a small black purse with your stuff. Long story short, you looked hot. Any idiot would have been able to see that, meaning Hyde would too.

"Well, you look ready to stay in the back seat of my car all night," Ethan badly flirted, making you roll your eyes.

"I'm more interested in going to the prom... you know, the thing I asked you to in the first place?" You hinted while walking to his car.

He moved to open the passenger-side door for you, which was sweet until he ruined it with a, "Well, we will see how you feel after an hour."

This was going to be a long night.

Oh, I wanna get him back

'Cause then again, I really miss him, and it makes me real sad

Oh, I want sweet revenge, and I want him again

I want to get him back, back, back

The Point Place Junior Prom looked adorable with the multi-colored streamers, balloons, and a rocking band, which managed to cheer you up after the lousy ride there. The entire ride, Ethan kept trying to put his hand on your thigh, as if you'd skip the entire prom just for a loud five minutes with him in a crappy motel room.

You attempted to have a fun night, but disappointment was slowly taking over you. It was the end of the night, and everyone was slow dancing. Hyde had been with Jackie, and you doubted he even was looking at you.

Ethan was nonstop insisting all night on leaving, which only continued to bug you more and more.

"Hey, Ethan, can you get me some punch?" You asked, putting a halt to the dance.

"Yeah, fine." Ethan huffed and walked away. You walked over to the table where Jackie was sitting, noticing how sad she looked.

"Hey, Jackie... you look great tonight. That color is great on you," you complimented, realizing you hadn't talked to her all night due to her being with Hyde.

"Thanks... I'm sorry I brought Hyde. I thought it would make Michael jealous, but I don't think he cares about me with Pam Macy around," Jackie admitted, before her sad eyes became soft and hopeful.

You turned to see Kelso behind you, looking down at her with love.

"Jackie."

"Michael."

You smiled at them both before getting up from the table to leave them alone. At least someone's plan worked tonight. You looked around to try and spot Ethan. He was nowhere to be found near the refreshment table, and instead, you spotted Hyde watching you.

Hyde nodded up at you in his silent, "How you doin'?" style. Slowly, you started to walk towards him.

"Hey... how's the punch?" You attempted to joke, making him crack a small smile.

Hyde pulled back his jacket to reveal a small flask. "Better with alcohol. I would ask if you want some, but you barely drank when we were together."

"Well, maybe it's a good thing that was a while ago," you commented, getting some punch and holding out your cup for him to spike it.

Hyde smirked and poured some in for you until you heard someone clear their throat.

You turned to see the one and only, Ms. Kaminski.

"Is that alcohol I see?"

Oh, I wanna key his car, I wanna make him lunch

I wanna break his heart, stitch it right back up

I wanna kiss his face with an uppercut

I wanna meet his mom, and tell her her son sucks

"Dammit, Hyde, I can't believe you got us kicked out of the dance! My date is in there!" You scolded as the double school doors closed behind you both.

Hyde rolled his eyes and attempted to start walking away from you. "Oh yeah, your date. Ethan's a real charmer," Hyde mumbled.

This is what he always did. But you weren't letting him get away that easy. Not like when you were dating. You rushed in front of him and pushed back on his shoulder to make him stop walking.

"For your information, that date was my ride home! Thanks to you, I'm walking home in heels. Which, by the way, are not comfortable!" You snapped.

"Relax, man. I can drive you home. I got Jackie's Lincoln," Hyde groaned. "I thought with the drink maybe you have chilled out a bit—"

"Chill out? Hyde, this was the junior prom! I was excited for the dance, and now it's done! All because I accepted a fucking drink from your... your dumbass!" You yelled before lightly smacking his shoulder, as most of the gang does to each other.

"Screw you, Steven Hyde. Screw your alcohol, and screw your ride! Just screw, screw, screw!"

You don't think you ever said "screw" that much in your entire life. Usually, it's a regular curse word like "fuck," but for some reason, all you could think of was... well, "screw." That's all Hyde ever had done for you. He was the one who screwed everything up. Not just tonight, but your entire past relationship.

As you started walking away down the sidewalk to go home, you instantly started to regret not putting up with your anger for the ride. God, do heeled shoes start to hurt after a short time. You knew you got out what needed to, though. Despite your breakup being so explosive, Hyde and you never talked about it otherwise. Maybe that's just because he hates relationship drama and never brought it up. Or maybe you were just too weak from the pain to ever really confront him about it all.

Regardless, the tension between you two had been brewing for 3 months, and you should have known it would have been released sooner or later.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a car approaching you from the side, and though you tried not to look, you eventually did.

Hyde was slowly driving next to you with the Lincoln, just as he promised earlier. He started rolling down the windows and said, "Y/n, get in."

"No."

"Stop acting tough. I know your feet probably hurt."

You stopped at that statement. You turned towards the window as anger slowly started brewing again.

"Oh yeah? Because you know so much, don't you? You know everrrrrything about me, don't you? Tell me more about how I'm feeling, oh please, Hyde." You growled, turning and starting to walk again.

Hyde jumped out of the Lincoln, slamming the door closed and jumping in front of you.

"You should be grateful, man! Your date was a creep and was grabbing your ass all night!" Hyde snapped. "Now cut the crap, and get in the damn car!"

His words made you freeze before saying, "How would you know he was grabbing my ass?"

"What am I, stupid?! I watched you all night—" He started before realizing what he was saying, "Dammit..."

"You're jealous—"

"No—"

"That I was with someone else." You finished.

"I wasn't jealous. I was just making sure he didn't do anything!" Hyde defended with a sigh.

You slowly moved towards him with a small smile covering your face, "Hyde..."

Hyde took a deep breath, "He's a jerk... And I was a jerk. You don't deserve that, alright? Not again." He mumbled, stepping towards you until you were close to each other's faces.

"You're right. I don't deserve that... so whatever this is right now should stop."

"Yeah... we should stop..."

Your words didn't match your actions. Neither of you backed away. It felt like hours you stood there staring into each other's eyes, when in reality it was only a minute.

"But what if we didn't?" Hyde whispered, gently reaching up to move your (h/c) hair out of your (s/c) face as a soft wind casted.

"Hyde—"

"I messed up. I know I did, alright? I suck and took you for granted. Can you forgive me?" Hyde pleaded, holding onto your face now with both of his hands.

You hesitated, knowing how everyone in the gang would feel. They would say you're stupid for taking him back. The amount of burns would be endless in the basement.

The fear of him hurting you again was strong... but damn, the temptation was stronger.

"You promise not to look at other girls? To go on dates with me like I want? To stop being late?" You whispered.

Hyde nodded quickly, "I promise—"

You cut him off, pressing your lips against his. Hyde wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible yet it still didn't feel close enough.

The taste of alcohol mixed with crappy high school dance punch never tasted better than on his lips and tongue. It sent fireworks throughout your body, knowing he was yours again. And it was gonna stay that way.

#steven hyde x reader #that 70s show #hyde x reader #steven hyde #eric forman #jackie burkhart #donna pinciotti #michael kelso #fez #olivia rodrigo guts #get him back

[rhoorl]

Working Title - Chapter 5

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Belle

Rating: Mature, 18+

Word Count: 6.2k

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Chapter 5 on AO3

Chapter Summary: It’s time for the party! We meet a couple more side characters. Plus, more best friend vibes happening with Belle and Indy. Toward the end we go through a more rapid fire of alternating POVs, I hope it translates the way I pictured it in my head!!

Warnings: This chapter has some swearing and allusions to smut. 

Indy could tell you were starting to get in your head about the party and knew just how to get you to loosen up. 

“Ok, pick a playlist,” she calls over to you as she tosses her phone.

“Jeez, you know I can’t catch for shit,” you say as you barely grasp her phone in your hands, looking through her Spotify to find what to listen to.

“You thinking champagne or a mixed drink?” she asks over her shoulder as she saunters into the kitchen.

“Isn’t it a little early?” you ask and before she can retort you follow it up with, “And don’t say it’s 5 o’clock somewhere, for the love,” you chuckle.

“We aren’t going to pregame hard, B, just a little something to sip on while we get ready!”

It had been a while since you both had gotten ready together to go to a party. When you lived in New York you’d spent many a night crowding into your tiny bathroom fighting for mirror space as you got ready to head to a club or bar. You’d sing and dance to whatever mix CD Indy had burned. Sometimes it still makes you gag to think you both used to rip cheap vodka shots straight without chasers.

Although the location is different, the energy is still the same with you two – giggling, reminiscing about old times, and sipping on the champagne Indy popped open.

She’s been on her phone off and on texting, smiling at herself when she didn’t think you were looking. At one point you both decide to Facetime Rhys.

“Hey! How are you two doing?” he picks up on the second ring, sitting on his couch presumably watching a hockey game or whatever other sport was on TV.

“Hi Rhys!” you wave. “Thank you soooo much for upgrading my flight, that was clutch!”

“Yea and this fucking room?! Rhys, you’ve outdone yourself!” Indy chimed in.

“Ha, well I’m glad you both like it, you deserve it, both of you.”.

“Oh Rhys, you’ll never guess what happened this morning!”

“Shh, stop it he doesn’t want or need to know about that,” you chide her.

“Know about what?” he smirked.

“So I walk outside to the balcony this morning, which is huge by the way,” she says as she puts down the phone against the mirror and keeps putting on her eyeliner. “I was looking for Indy so we could have our coffee together and I walk out there and see her staring at the balcony next to us where freaking Dieter was standing – without a shirt on! Her mouth was practically on the floor drooling over him.”

“Oh my gosh Ind, my mouth wasn’t on the floor,” you roll your eyes. “Rhys, I was behaving myself.”

“Oh, you were behaving yourself when you moaned about how good a fucking cookie tasted?” she laughed.

“Wait, what?” 

“Ugh, never mind Rhys. It was nothing.”

Rhys starts to smile, laughing when he says “So I guess you met your neighbor then, huh?”

“It was so funny Rhys, she was so flustered it was so cute!” 

You kind of paused for a bit at his reaction. He was trying to act surprised, but he was a terrible liar. What is he up to?

By this point, he and Indy had moved on to another topic you barely even heard, still lost in thought. 

“I should be there in about a week or so. I haven’t booked my flight yet, but I’m excited to visit my two favorite girls!”

“We can’t wait to see you!” 

“Yea both owe you a big hug,” Indy added.

“Ok ladies, have fun tonight, but not too much fun,” he winked.

Indy hangs up her phone and you both finish the last touches to your makeup. You offered to do it for Indy, but she refused. She had watched you so much over the years, studying your techniques, and eventually picked up a few basic things. And honestly, with her, it didn’t take much to still look stunning. 

Putting on one last spritz of hairspray, you give yourself a final look before heading to your room to get dressed. You slip out of your t-shirt and shorts and walk over to grab a bra out of the dresser. As you open the drawer to look in, your mind wanders to Dieter. You were nervous to see him. Presumably, tonight was going to be the closest you’ve both been to each other physically. The first time you were separated by a couch and this morning you were separated by the balconies. 

Indy’s voice is coming through loud and clear in your head, if you want to feel confident wear something that makes you feel good. Spurned by that thought and the champagne, you rummage through the drawer and decide on the black bra that makes your boobs look amazing. You also decide to change into a skimpier pair of underwear figuring if you felt sexy, it may help you feel flirty. 

You head over to your shoes and slip on a pair of sandals. Your finishing touches were your watch, a bracelet Indy got you for a birthday, and a pair of diamond earrings. Grabbing your purse, you head out to the living room where Indy is texting and smiling at her phone.

She sees you and starts to whistle, “Ok sexy mama! I see you!”

“Oh my god, Ind,” you laugh.

“Alright, ready to do this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Oh c’mon, you’re getting good at going to these!”

You’ve been accompanying Indy to these types of parties for more than a decade now. They’ve run the gamut from boring to wild – the stories you both could share! By all accounts, tonight is going to be pretty chill; some of the cast and crew traveled with their families and were bringing them over. The only part that always made you nervous was when inevitably you and Indy would get separated. At least this time around, you will have some friendly faces in the crowd.

Indy shoots another quick text, smirking at her phone. 

“Ok, let’s do this!”

Dieter had spent the afternoon looking over scripts and chatting with the writers. He was a TV and film nerd and loved the process of making the art. Lizzie always told him he should write or direct something of his own, but he had never followed through despite the countless notes of ideas on his phone.

He’s lost in a daydream, thinking of the morning and what he should have said, or wanted to say when his PA Danny walks in. In his early years, Dieter went through PAs like nothing. Over time he realized they only ever wanted the drugs he could score, or to fuck him. And, frankly, he saw them the same way too for a while. 

Danny had been with him for the past couple of years. He was young and a hard worker, no job or task was too small for him. Dieter liked his work ethic and respected his hustle, so he looked out for Danny. When Dieter wasn’t working, he would make sure to find Danny a gig with a fellow actor friend. They’d grown to have a bit of a brotherly relationship.

Danny sits down across the table from Dieter, unwrapping a package and pulling something out.

I know that packaging.

“Danny, what is that?” he pointed at Danny’s mouth as he was mid-bite.

“It’s…uh…a cookie,” he mumbled out with his mouth full. After he chewed and shallowed he added, “Did you get one in your welcome basket? They’re so fucking good and it’s from a local company too. Want one?” he offered Dieter the other one.

“Uh. Yea. I mean. No, I don’t want one, knock yourself out. Wait, did you say they were a local company?”

“Yea,” he continued to chew. “I’ve been talking with the other PAs, apparently they make them here on the island and there’s like a fuck ton of other flavors. It’s been like Pokemon trading cookies with everyone today,” he laughed.

“Dan - how close is this place?”

“Uh, I don’t know, let me look,” wiping his mouth and grabbing his phone. Once he pulled it up he turned the phone to Dieter, “Looks like it’s 20 minutes away!”

Looking down at his watch, Dieter does some quick math. “Danny, you up for a little adventure?” he asked with a lopsided grin. 

“Ok, phone, wallet, room key. Check, check, and check! Let’s go do this!” Indy said, slapping you on the ass as she walked by you and opens the door. 

“Hey, ouch!”

As you close the door behind you, you hear her yell “Hold the elevator please!” Your heart skips a beat at who could be waiting for you in the elevator.

You look down the hallway and see an arm pop through the closing elevator doors, stopping them and opening them back up. As the elevator doors open back up, you hear a deep voice call out, “Indy?”

“Hey Sam!” she gushes as she hustles over to the elevator.

You exhale but also have a tinge of disappointment come over you. You hurry so you don’t keep them waiting, glancing over to the door to Dieter’s room as you walk by. I wonder where he is. 

“Oh my gosh, Sam you haven’t met Belle yet!” Indy said as she ushered you into the elevator. You could see why Indy was into Sam. He was tall, fit, with a great smile, and he had the most piercing blue eyes you’d ever seen. 

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you! Indy has been talking about you non-stop,” he laughs and goes in for a hug, which you reciprocate. Wrapping your arms around his back you add another reason to the “why Indy is obsessed with Sam” list – the guy was made of pure muscle. “She said you were beautiful, but you’re even more stunning in person,” he says in his low, Southern drawl.

Okay. I can see why she’s all googly-eyed now. This guy is a charmer. Normally this shit would be a red flag, but he seems sweet.

“It’s nice to meet you too Sam. You’re even more handsome than she described,” you winked at him. For as awkward as you could be, there was something about playing a wing woman to Indy that made you a little bolder.

Looking over at Indy she is beaming. She sidles over to Sam and you look down to your phone to give them a little privacy. You stop on a floor to let a few people in when you hear him whisper in her ear, “You look absolutely stunning, baby.”

They were practically eye fucking each other the whole ride down, which made you wonder how far Indy had gone with him. 

You make it down to the first floor and the elevator empties into the lobby. Ari is getting out of another elevator and you wave to her so she can join headed to the front of the resort. Along the way, Ari tells you that Mitch organized a few shuttles to help get people to and from the party. 

Getting to the entrance, you see a full shuttle leaving as an empty one pulled up. Sam let you and Ari go ahead before letting Indy board ahead of him. Ari takes a window seat and you scoot in next to her, Indy taking the window seat in the row behind you, Sam following closely behind.

Sitting at the front of the shuttle, you are practically the unofficial greeter, saying hi or at least smiling to everyone who boards. You look to the outside of the shuttle where a line was forming, looking for that distinct mop of fluffy hair above the crowd. He said he was going to be there, maybe he already left. Or, he’s not into this kind of stuff and is going as late as possible to still make an appearance. You battle back and forth with yourself and suddenly realize the shuttle closed its doors and is starting to move. 

Behind you, you could hear Indy giggling as Sam whispers to her. Oh, they’re fucking. Making a mental note to ask her long that’s been going on. You smile to yourself, happy that Indy seems to be head over heels for the guy, but a little concerned seeing as filming hasn’t even started yet – what if something happens? That would be awkward.

Ari makes small talk with you on the way to the party and before you know it, the shuttle is coming to a stop.

“Holy shit, this place is nice,” Ari says under her breath.

“Seriously. I’m totally going to get lost,” you chuckle.

You all file out of the shuttle and are greeted by servers with glasses of champagne. Add another glass to my tally. You follow the crowd up the stairs and across the threshold of the house which opens up into an open-air living room overlooking a huge backyard with a fantastic pool.

“Wow, this is nice,” you hear Indy come up next to you. 

“Seriously. So … who is Mitch?” 

Looking around, Indy spots him. “Hey Mitch!” she yells, waving at a man standing by the bar in the backyard. She grabs your hand and ushers you over to him, Ari and Sam trailing behind.

“Indy, great to see you,” the man says going in for a hug.

“Thanks so much for having us, it’s so fun that we get to start off the shoot this way!” Oh, she’s on her schmooze game. “Oh, I need to introduce you to one of the most talented hair and makeup artists I know, and she’s my best friend,” she beamed motioning over to you.

You introduce yourself and shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, thanks for having us!”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, glad you’re joining the crew. I hope you all have fun tonight, make yourselves at home. If you want to get in the pool go ahead, we have towels. There’s a bar and food,” he motions over to the bar and the full buffet set up. “Otherwise, just have fun!”

“Thank you!” you all chime in. 

“Indy, Sam, could I steal you both?” he asks as he guides them to another group of people standing around a high-top table. They look a bit more dressed up than everyone else. They must be from the studio.

Poor Indy, these types of events seemed so exhausting. She had to be “on” for most of the party trying to make sure she talked with the right people and said the right things. 

You take a second to scan around the party. Another shuttle of people had been dropped off by this point. Hmm, I don’t see him. You tried to not let your disappointment show. Besides, it’s not like even if he was here he’d talk to you. Look at Indy, she’s going to be busy all night, so he will be too.

You and Ari head over to the bar to grab a drink. A few of the other PAs were hanging out at a nearby table so she heads over there. You manage to find Meredith and some of the other stylists and grab some food and talk. She gets you all to play two truths and a lie as an icebreaker to get to know everyone. You all end up laughing to the point of tears at how ridiculous some of the lies were. After a while, some of the group decides it’s time for a cigarette so they get up to leave. 

With the sun starting to set, you take it as a good opportunity to sneak away and try and take some photos of the spectacular sunset. And also recharge your social battery. You liked being around people, but you didn’t get energy from it like Indy did. 

As walk around, you hope to catch a glimpse of Dieter. While you didn’t see him, you did see Indy. She was in the pool leaning against the side, talking to Sam who was sitting on a nearby lounger. You gave her a wave and as discreet of a thumbs up as you could as you weaved your way through the crowd.

Exploring the backyard, you head down a path and find a little secluded spot with a perfect view of the ocean. You see a little bench right next to a small pond with some beautiful koi fish swimming along. Sitting down, you take out your phone and start snapping photos and taking some videos to post on your Instagram stories. You lost track of time and almost didn’t hear the rustling and footsteps behind you. Turning around, you see that Dieter is coming your way down the path.

He sees you and gives a lopsided grin, one of his dimples peeking through.

“Hey! I was looking for you,” he waves with his left hand, rubbing the back of his neck with his right as he approaches. “Mind if I join you?” he motions towards the bench.

Looking for me? Ok, breathe. Remember to breathe. Shit, he looks good. 

He was wearing light gray chino shorts, a plain, black t-shirt, and sneakers. You couldn’t help but linger over how tight the sleeves of his shirt were over his biceps. His hair was a bit more tamed than it was this morning, but it still had gorgeous curls and waves.

“Oh, h-hi Um, yea be my guest,” you bow towards the seat. Why are you bowing, that’s lame. “How long have you been at the party?”

“I, uh- I just got here, a little while ago. I had to take care of something and then Danny drove us over.”

“Danny?”

“Oh, uh, my PA. Good kid,” he smiles. “Um. Y-you look beautiful,” he whispered as he looked down at his hands.

Wait, he’s nervous too, right? Holy fucking shit, just remember to breathe. But also, girl, take advantage of this. 

“You look nice too. You put on a shirt for the occasion,” you winked at him.

He laughed, “Touché, but I can’t tell if you mean that’s a good or a bad thing.”

You bite your lip and look down. Ahhhhhh.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat. “Did you have a good day today?”

“Uh, yea. Yea, it was busy but fun,” you said turning towards him. “Did you?”

He seemed to be taken aback that you asked him such a simple question and seemed to care about the response. “Y-yea. I’d say it started off pretty well,” he winked.

“Ha, yea. Although it did take me a while to actually get a hot cup of coffee,” you laughed.

“Maybe we can make up for it tomorrow morning,” he said a bit lower.

You breathing hitches. 

“I- uh. I mean from each of our balconies. Not from the same one. Unless. Uh- shit, sorry” he starts to ramble shaking his head as he rubs the back of his neck.

You don’t understand how this man could ever be flustered, let alone around you, but you had to admit each time it happened it was really cute.

You laugh and then softly say, almost as a whisper so he doesn’t hear, “I actually would like that.”

His face softens, “You would?” You nod. “Yea, I would too,” he smiles.

“Only one problem though,” you replied.

He furrows his brows together, “and what’s that?”

“We only had that one package of cookies in our basket, and I need something sweet with my first coffee of the day.”

“Oh that is a dilemma then isn’t it,” he laughs. Leaning further into your space he whispers “I think we can figure something out,” with a wink. 

You let out a nervous laugh, biting your lip again. Holy fucking shit.

As if she knew you needed help, you suddenly hear your phone ring and look to see a call coming in from Indy. You usually kept your phone on silent, but in situations like tonight, you both kept your ringers on. It started when you used to go clubbing, that way in case one of you needed to help the other would be able to hear their phone.

“Oh, sorry, I have to get this. She would only call if it were an emergency.”

“Of course!” Dieter looks concerned, clearly hoping everything was ok with Indy.

You give him a small smile and answer, “Hey, Ind, are you ok?” furrowing your brows in concern.

“Y-yea, yea. Um, pineapples.” Over the years, you both developed a series of code words to help get each other out of bad or awkward situations. Luckily, this one was not a serious one, but she still needed your help.

You let out an exhale and smirked, “Ok, where are you?”

Dieter looks a bit confused, looking at your face to see what’s going on. “She’s ok,” you mouth to him and he nods.

“Second-floor bathroom, it’s to the left when you walk up.”

“Ok, be right there.” Hanging up the phone you turn back to him. “Sorry, I have to go find her. We’ve got a wardrobe malfunction,” you laugh.

“Oh shit, yea let’s go so you can take care of that.”

He gets up from the bench and lets you walk in front of him, lightly touching the small of your back as he leads you around the path. You’re thankful that your back is to him because you blush at his touch and also curse yourself for being so affected by something so small – a simple courteous gesture. 

He keeps his hand there until you reach the party again, bringing both hands into his pockets. “Do you know where to go?”

“Yea, she said she’s on the second floor. I, uh, I’ll see you around?”

He smiles, “Definitely.”

You hate to turn away and leave, but you’re also so curious as to what situation Indy has found herself in.

BELLE: Headed upstairs

INDY: THX 🙏

As you make it to the stairs, you see Sam hurriedly making his way down. He has a sheepish look as he sees you, trying to avoid your gaze.

“Hey Sam, do you know where Indy is?”

“Uh, y-yea, she’s the second door on the left,” he glances away trying to avoid eye contact.

Confused you keep heading up the stairs, You know nothing bad happened because she used pineapples but Sam’s demeanor was a far cry from the confident swagger he had earlier. He seemed embarrassed.

You made it to the door and gave your customary three knocks so Indy knew it was you. She opens the door slightly poking just her eyes out. Confirming it was you, she opens the door the rest of the way and pulls you in. Then you see her and let out a laugh.

“Hooooly shit Ind! What the fuck happened?” pointing to the huge hickey on the left side of her neck with one hand and covering your mouth in shock with the other.

“Can you fix it?” she asks nervously as she looks in the mirror, trying to tame her mussed-up hair.

“Well, I left my special effects make-up at home. Ow!” she punches you in the arm as you laugh. “But I do have a small kit with me so we can make it work. Here sit.” 

She gets up on the counter extending her head back, exposing more of her neck so you can see the full brunt of what you have to work with.

“Sooo…care to share with the class how this happened?”

She rolls her eyes, “I think you know how this happens, B.”

Pulling back and putting your arms up in surprise, “Hey! I’m the one helping you remember. I can walk out and leave you to work the room with that gigantic mark on your neck,” you tease. 

She lowers her chin looking at you with a smirk, “You wouldn’t do that.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” She lifts her chin again as you start to mix some of the concealers. 

Knowing you weren’t going to drop it, she finally caved, “So, Sam and I came in here.”

“No! I’m shocked!” you say sarcastically as she gives you another stern look. “Ok, ok I’m sorry!”

“We were fooling around and next thing I know I glance in the mirror and see this,” motioning to her neck, “and I freaked out. It's too big to cover up with just my hair. So, that’s when I called you. Sam was still here, he felt really bad. He stayed the whole time, but left when you texted.”

“The guy could barely look at me when I came up the stairs,” you chuckled, applying the makeup to the area. It wasn’t going to be a perfect cover-up job, but between Indy's long hair and your rushed handiwork, you both could leave without anyone being the wiser of her romp in the bathroom.

“So, how long have you guys been hooking up?”

“Um, it’s been … a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?! And you didn’t tell me!”

“I was going to, I swear. I just … I don’t know. He's younger, you know. I really, really like him, but I wanted you to meet him first.”

“Well, he's not that much younger," you wink. "And seems lovely and he’s clearly dicked you down well enough that you didn’t even notice him doing this on you. Seriously, Indy this is like the biggest one you’ve ever had!”

You both giggle, Indy noticeably relaxing now that she’s clued you into how involved she’s become with Sam.

As you were finishing up, she asked how you had been enjoying the party. You tell her about some of the two truths and a lie the other stylists shared.

“Oh, did Dieter ever find you?”

“Huh?”

“He was looking for you. When he got here I could see him looking around and when he saw me, he made a beeline over. He was trying to play it cool, asked where my ‘sidekick’ was,” she gave air quotes. “I saw you walk down toward the path, so I sent him that way. Did he find you? Wait, were you with him when I called?”

You nodded.

“Shiiit, I’m sorry!” she smacks her the palm of her hand to her forehead. “I feel like a jackass. You were getting some alone time and here I am messing it up!”

“It’s really fine, Ind. You actually called at a perfect time because I wasn’t sure where the conversation was going.”

“Oooo go on ….” she waggles her eyebrows. 

“We were kind of starting to talk about repeating our coffee and cookie thing tomorrow morning…I think.”

Indy hops down from the counter and grabs your shoulders.

“Holy shit! So, are we talking like from his place? Or ours? If it’s ours please let me know so I can put in earplugs.”

“Indy!! Not like that,” you shake your head and look down. “Me on my balcony and he would be on his.”

Arching her eyebrow and tilting her chin down she gives you a lopsided grin. “Ok, Belle, ok. But I’m sure he was thinking it.”

“Oh stop it,” you laugh and then start to yawn. The jet lag and excitement all starting to catch up with you.

“Oh shit, you’re probably tired, huh? I keep forgetting you came from the East Coast. Wanna head back? It’s getting late anyway and we want to make sure you are well-rested for your coffee date!”

“It’s not a date, he probably won’t even show up.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs your hand as you both head out of the bathroom. You make it downstairs and see a group starting to make their way to the shuttle so you shuffle in step with them and head back. 

The shuttle ride was uneventful and you made it up to your room. Indy unlocks the door and you both file in. You start to head over to your bedroom, but stop when you see a giant box sitting on the kitchen island. You both look at each other confused as to who left something in your room. You figured it was either Rhys sending you both a surprise or maybe even Sam as an apology. 

Indy skips over to the box, snatching the note to read it. She stops and looks up at you with a smile and doesn’t say anything, she just extends the note to you to read.

Turns out they have a bunch of flavors. Pick a few for tomorrow! - D

“Holy fucking shit, Belle, this is the cutest thing ever!”

Getting a gift from a man was a pretty foreign concept to you. The only gifts you had received in recent years either came from your dad, Rhys, or Indy's brother. Ryan had forgotten your last several birthdays and anniversaries. 

You step around Indy to see exactly what was in the box. The company that made the cookies from this morning apparently makes several other flavors. It looks like there are about 12 different varieties in this box, but you notice a few boxes of the macadamia nut flavor, which makes you blush.

“He had to have done that earlier today! I saw him talking with Danny, his PA, and then they grabbed some car keys and left.”

You started pulling out the boxes, unsure what to even say or think.

“Umm. Earth to Belle? Dieter surprised you with a cute gift. He wants to see you tomorrow morning. Honestly, babe, if I were you I would just knock on his door and invite yourself in right now.”

“You know I’m not doing that. Besides, we don’t even know if he’s back yet.”

“I know, but could you imagine? He would absolutely flip.”

You wanted to smile, but something stopped you. You felt like there had to be a catch. There’s no way this was happening to you. 

“I can’t meet him tomorrow,” shaking your head at the sheer ridiculousness of this situation. 

“What?! Why?” Indy mumbled as she stuffed a cookie in her face.

“Because this is probably some big elaborate joke or something.”

“You and I both know that’s a load of bullshit you’re telling yourself. Don’t build that wall up. Stop it.”

She knew you better than anyone and knew exactly how your head was spiraling. You felt like you didn’t deserve to have someone, especially a man, do nice, sweet things for you. And if someone did, it was with a catch or out of obligation. 

“I am setting my alarm and dragging your ass out of bed myself.”

“Please don’t do that. Besides we both know you will sleep through that alarm,” you smirk.

“Fine. But please promise me you’ll go outside and have coffee with him. This,” she gestures to the sampler box of cookies, “is too fucking cute. Rhys said he hasn’t heard of Dieter dating or even being interested in someone in years, so he’s probably just as nervous as you are.”

Is that true? I mean, now that I think of it I haven't read about him being linked to someone in years. Also, why are Rhys and Indy talking about Dieter's dating life?

Taking a deep breath you straighten up and look over at Indy who has opened up another box to try. “Ok, I’ll try.”

“Ooo you should text him thank you!” You give her a look. “Before you say ‘I can’t do that I don’t have his number’ yes you do!” She grabs her phone from her purse and starts to go through the contacts. “Here, I’m texting you his number.”

Her text comes through and you stare at your phone. I mean, he did get you a gift, the proper thing to do would be to acknowledge it.

Indy comes around next to you as you both lean over the kitchen island, looking at your phone. It brought you back to when you both used to sit in front of the computer, trying to compose the perfect AIM message to your crushes. You keep staring and Indy grabs the phone, “Ok I’ll just do it. ‘Dear Dieter, let’s skip the coffee and I’ll give you my cookie instead’ winky face.”

You snatch the phone from her, realizing she didn’t actually type any of that and she was fucking with you. “Oh my gosh, Indy! First of all, no. Second, the cookie pun, really? I am just going to say ‘Hey it’s Belle, thanks for the cookies, that’s sweet’. Simple and I still get a pun in,” you chuckle.

“Come onnnn. The guy got something for you, you made plans to see him tomorrow morning. Be a little flirty! Let’s speed this shit up!”

Rolling your eyes you look back at your phone and start to type with a smirk. When you were done you hand her back the phone, “This ok?”

“Do it!”

Dieter wasn’t one for parties anymore, although this one sounded like it would be pretty tame and safe. He knew he would have to make an appearance, but it definitely made it more appealing to see you and hopefully get a chance to talk.

He was relieved when he finally saw you, his breath catching. Wow, she’s beautiful. He thought that this morning when he saw you with no makeup, a messy bun, and glasses. Now, your hair was down and he could see your eyes better. He was nervous to talk to you, but excited, trying to turn on some charm to see how you’d react. Every time you bit your lip, he could feel his shorts get a little tighter. All he wanted to do was reach over and kiss you. 

When Indy called he was concerned, but then a bit frustrated. He felt you were maybe starting to reciprocate some of his advances. 

Knowing that you would be occupied with Indy, he decided to head out and drive himself back to the resort. On his way, he called the front desk agent to let them know to proceed with the plan. After he hung up a wave of nerves washed over him.

That was probably too much, right? Like who the fuck buys someone cookies? But, it gives me an excuse to see her again. You’re going to see her on set every day though. I wonder if she’s back yet. No, she and Indy are probably still having fun. Am I coming on too strong? I always come on too strong.

He makes it back upstairs and starts pacing around his room, his insecurity and anxiety starting to spike. He sits on the couch and does some breathing exercises. In … two … three … out … two … three .. four … five. 

After doing this for several minutes, he feels himself calming down, deciding to go lay down on his bed. Shrugging off his shorts and grabbing a pair of basketball shorts, he pulls off his shirt and slides under the covers, and grabs the remote. He’s honestly not sure what’s on the TV, he finds the noise comforting as he zones out.

Then, he hears his phone ding.

“Ok, sent. Shit!” you bury your face in your hands.

“It’s a pretty innocent text.”

You both stare at the phone screen waiting. After a couple of minutes, you see that the message has been read. Shit. He’s not typing. Wait, yes he is. Ugh, then he stopped. 

“Aww, it seems like he’s nervous too,” Indy teases bumping your shoulder with hers.

Dieter sees a text come in from a random number. Normally, he would just ignore it, but the timing was coincidental so he unlocked his phone.

I’ll bring the cookies, you bring the coffee?

He exhales and smiles. Although the text is from a random number he knows who it’s from and goes to immediately save the number. 

His stomach does a flip as he decides how he wanted to play this. Ok, breathe. 

Indy shrieks when the phone dings again.

DIETER: Oh, I think that can be arranged sweetheart.

DIETER: What time? I want to make sure the coffee is hot for you…

“Ohhh shit!” Indy grabs you by the shoulders and shakes. “See, I fucking told you!”

“Shit, what do I say?”

Ugh. Was that too much? That second bit was too much, right? 

Ding. Dieter unlocks his phone.

🍪 ☕ BELLE: Hmm. Like 6? Is that too early?

🍪 ☕ BELLE: Also, any requests?

Ding. 

“Oh, this is so fun!” Indy giggles.

DIETER: 6 is perfect.

DIETER: Macadamia nut please. 😉

Indy gets up and starts running around the kitchen island giggling. You couldn’t help but smile. Suddenly you weren’t tired anymore, this interaction giving you a little burst of adrenaline. 

🍪 ☕ BELLE: I think that can be arranged.

🍪 ☕ BELLE: Good night. And thank you, by the way. 🙂

“Was the smiley too much?”

“He sent you a goddamn winky face, so no I don’t think a smiley is too much.”

Ding.

DIETER: Sweet dreams, Belle.

“Fuck, I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight.”

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: Eeek! I hope you liked the last bit alternating between them receiving texts from each other. Our poor, flustered babies! They’ll get it together, I promise. I'm honestly a little intimidated of writing the smut, but these two need it dammit, so I'll get over myself :)

If you’re still here, thank you so much for reading. For those who have commented, reblogged, or liked any or all of the chapters so far THANK YOU. It really makes my day whenever I hear your thoughts or encouragement. 

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or if I inadvertently left you off or added you by mistake. :)

Tag list: @musings-of-a-rose / @legendary-pink-dot / @bitchwitch1981 / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @gracie7209 / @amneris21 / @pastelnap

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x oc #dieter x reader #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fic #working title fic

[witchersmistress]

Library Aftermath

Hello my darlings!! as promised to @livesinfantasyland here is how he reacted.. i do not plan on adding this to an on going series list at this moment

Trigger warnings: None, fluff

Word count:1.4K

It’s been a few days since Evelyn came home in the middle of the night, practically morning, smiling with triumph and saying she had a plan. There was something haunted in her eyes that night, like whatever she had to do to get this plan in place cost her something, but apparently it was worth it. I asked her then what the plan was, but she told me she’d tell us in the morning, making me wait and grinning when I seemed pissed off about it. I watched her go up the stairs to her room with a bad feeling in my chest. She laid it all out for us the next day.

How she met one of the hookers from the red light district and talked to her. How Charles  has a fucking assault fetish and likes to make the girls he hires act it out. Just when I thought it wasn’t possible for me to hate that piece of shit more. It all comes together when Evelyn explains it. All she has to do is wait for this girl to call her, and then she’ll move in and do what she does best. What she’s been working toward all this time. She’ll take out the last fucker on the list. But this isn’t like before, when she was going to shoot Charles  from across the street and be gone before anyone realized what happened. 

This is different. She’ll be in the middle of it all. Right there, pretending to be some fucking helpless hooker for him to take advantage of. It’s sick, just like Charles  himself, and just thinking about it makes me grind my teeth in irritation. But of course, Evelyn doesn’t give a shit. She’s focused on the fact that this plan will work, and it’s the best shot she has. I know she wants him dead, more than she wants anything else, apparently, but it’s still a bad plan. I didn’t like her plan when she first told it to us, and I don’t like it now. In fact, I fucking hate it. I hate pretty much everything about this, starting with the night she killed someone outside our club. She’s in our lives now. Deep in. Way too deep for only having been here a short while. Little signs of her are everywhere in the house. A bra slung over the back of a chair, a bottle of nail polish on the table, her brand of cigarettes on the counter.

 I can’t help but think about Walter’s warnings that first night, how we should just kill her and be done with it because she’s only going to bring trouble. He wasn’t wrong. She’s wormed her way into our lives and our home and our routines. At some point, I stopped thinking of the room she sleeps in as the guest room and started calling it her room. Like she lives here and isn’t just staying so we can keep an eye on her. Syverson and Napoleon both pant after her like horny dogs, even Walter seems to have made some kind of peace with her, and I… I wander into the library, unable to forget fucking Evelyn in here. I think about how she worked herself back, taking every violent thrust with pleasure, demanding more all at the same time. She riled me up to a breaking point and then handled it completely when I unleashed on her. I’m sure a lot of people would think it’s weird for there to be a full library in a house like this. They’d probably think the same thing about Walter’s piano.

 But this is where I come to settle my mind when my demons scream too loudly. It’s peaceful and it’s mine. My father was a piece of shit who mocked me for not learning how to read for a long time, so I’ve made it a point to read everything I can since I learned. I find old books, the classics that all the stuffy intellectuals say you have to read if you want to be anybody, and I read them. I keep them, along with the notes I make in the margins. Like proof that I can do whatever the fuck I set my mind to without approval from anyone else. Nothing can hold me back. I walk along the shelves, trailing my fingers over the place where Evelyn had her hands while I fucked her from behind. She wanted to touch herself, but I wouldn’t let her, keeping her hands right there, making her take it at my pace. Just thinking about it makes my cock perk up, and I can feel myself getting hard. I pick up one of the books from the shelf. Heart of Darkness. Appropriate. I open it and go to flip through it, but the pages don’t fan open the way they should. A bunch of them are stuck together, hard at the edges and unable to be pulled apart. I narrow my eyes and put it back, picking up another one. It has the same issue. My jaw clenches with anger. Evelyn is in the living room, watching Napoleon and Syverson beat the shit out of each other in a video game, and I march in, holding the book in my hand. “What the fuck happened?” I snap, my voice cutting through the sound of video game violence and Syverson laughing. Evelyn looks up, confused at first, but then she sees the book in my hand and bursts out laughing. Her blue eyes are bright, and she runs fingers through her shiny silver hair like she couldn’t give less of a shit. “I don’t know, Gus,” she says, shrugging. “But it really isn’t a good idea to smear cum all over the pages of books. They’ll just stick together. Didn’t you learn that lesson with porno magazines when you were younger?” I see red at her nonchalant expression. “I didn’t fucking smear cum on them,” I growl. Napoleon and Syverson are still in the middle of their game, but I can tell they’re listening. Syverson’s laughter might be about how his character just ripped the spine out of Napoleon’s character and beat him half to death with it or because of me talking about jizz on the pages of my books. Either way, it just pisses me off more. It’s like it’s a game to them.

 Like this isn’t our lives this woman has marched herself into and started fucking with. She’s here, like she owns the place, making herself at home and fucking things up. Of course they both love it. Syverson is a sucker for chaos. Anything new and different and exciting. Plus, Evelyn seems to understand him in a fucked up way. He wouldn’t spend so much time around her if she didn’t. Napoleon just wants to fuck her, and he probably has already. She’s the type to get him excited, and he also likes when things are happening. Especially things that involve a pretty girl. Both of them are missing the point—that she’ll be gone soon enough, and all the shit she fucked up will have to try to get back to normal. If that’s even possible.

I stand in the middle of the living room glaring at her, feeling like I’m the only one who gets it. Mad at her for fucking with my shit, for being so damn compelling. I want her to kill Charles  so she can get the fuck out of our lives already, even though I know it won’t be that easy. Nothing’s ever that fucking easy. Her grin just goes wider as she glances down at the book in my hand. “Oh, yeah. That was me.” Anger rises in me. I’m pissed as fuck. She’s grinning like she doesn’t have a care in the world, like it doesn’t faze her that she fucked with my stuff. I stride toward her, prepared to yank her up, bend her over my knee and punish her if I have to, but her phone rings before I reach her. She rolls her eyes at me and pulls it out of her pocket, answering it as soon as she sees the name on the screen. Her face goes serious in an instant, all traces of humor falling away. She gets up from the couch, moving over to a corner to talk in a hushed conversation.

I hear her say “Are you sure?” and “Okay,” and “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.” Everyone in the room stops, looking at her while she talks. Syverson has stopped laughing, and Napoleon isn’t grinning anymore. The atmosphere in the room has completely changed. I forget all about the books, waiting to hear the verdict. Finally, she hangs up and turns to look at all of us. “That was Avalon,” she says. “Charles  put in a request for a girl, and Avalon volunteered to do it for the night. It's time to go.”

#august walker #henry cavill x you #august walker fanfic #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill characters #august walker imagines #henry cavill #henry cavill thirst #henry cavill imagine #captain syverson #napoleon solo #charles brandon

[rosietaeyongswife]

reflections | kim doyoung

GENRE: angst WC: 1.3k SUMMARY: we were too close to the stars. do you know when you’re going to come back?

 another rainy day made doyoung even sadder than he already was. whenever weather isn’t sunny, he feels very unmotivated. seems like weather and nature are against him today. 

“guys, have you heard?” mark lee, co-worker of doyoung, was shouting. “y/n was in an interview for times. her book became a bestseller in south korea and united states.”

 group of guys gave each other known look, and taeyong could only slap his friend arm, which was surprising for mark because he didn’t catch what he just said. mark was about to ask when he saw doyoung’s face. his older friend was looking away, pale and seems to be lost in thoughts.

“i heard of new restaurant being opened today. i think we all should go out for dinner after work.” johnny rolled his eyes at mark. “what do you think doyoung?”

“uhm?” he raised his eyes at johnny. “uh, yes sure.”

“then we’ll see at 7.”

“don’t think too much about it.” taeyong hugged his best friend. “we’re going out today so try to think about it. not about her.”

“i’ll try my best.”

 and with that, whole mood of doyoung was ruined. doyoung hated it, no matter where he is there’s always something which reminds him of you. last night he was walking by nigh club and some girl looked exactly like you. week ago he visited his mother on her birthday, and when he was buying flowers he noticed your favorite ones. no matter where he is, he hears as someone talks about you or your succes. 

“my mother made me go on a blind date.” jaehyun took a sip of his bear. “i swear to god, as soon as i heard that i had my head spinning. it’s not a first time my mother left me in a weird sitution.” jungwoo chuckled. “but besides that, i told her i don’t want to go so she yelled at me.”

“your mother is one and only, jaehyun.” taeil laughed. “i’m still waiting for her number tho.”

“taeil, shut the fuck up.” jaehyun gave him dirty look. “don’t try to hit on my mother, your dumbass.”

“did you go out or not?” haechan rolled his eyes. “be quicker with your silly story.”

“yes, i did.” he smiled proudly. “she told me, she won’t talk to me unless i try her out. we met few days ago, and surprisingly it went pretty good. she’s very nice, brave and smart. besides, she looks like a real life queen.”

“you hit a jeckpot.”

“yes, we’re going on next friday again.”

“am i the only single one?” jungwoo raised his hand while others laughed.

“no, me too.” yuta and haechan raised their hands.

“and me.” doyoung gave them little smile. “it’s feels great to be single again.”

“of course, being single is so fun. i don’t have to worry about doing anything, i don’t have to save money or remember stupid things.” haechan said with a smirk on his face. “and i am not a damn simp like some of you.”

 taeyong looked at younger friend in disbelief.

“it’s atucally sucks, i wish i had a girlfriend.” yuta pouted. “i feel like i should settle down.”

“good for you?” jungwoo laughed. “i am glad to be single, right?”

“amen.”

 doyoung was laughing along with his friends but he couldn’t pay much attention to whatever they were talking about. again, his mind was all foggy of your image. almost like you’re here with him. just two of you, together and happy in your own, small world.

 life’s writing the crulest scenarios for some of people, and doyoung was now one of them. life with you was magical. both of you were meant for each other, and there was much of happines. maybe two of you were too close to the stars? maybe both of you were too good for each other, so that’s why you had to part your ways. 

 sun down at glade was the last time doyoung and you have spoke.

“i love you.” doyoung kissed you, while you were talking about your new idea for a book. “i’m sorry to interrupt you now, but it’s really important.”

“of course, go on.”

“i can’t be with you anymore. i just hold you back, look at me. i’m doing very bad in my life, and i wish to disapear.” your eyes were watering. “i’ve tried everything and my fatigue only made it worse for us. i don’t want you to spend your life besides someone who can never find peace.”

“doyoung, what are you talking about? i don’t care, you’re my happines. you’re my world and i don’t mind you at all.”

 you tried to hug your boyfriend but he backed off.

“i, i-i don’t know what else to say. i want you to be happy.”

“doyoung, if you-”

“i am honest. i want all the best for you, so please.” he stood up. “let’s stop talking to each other. let us be past.”

“doyoung, but i can’t. i love you too much.”

“i love you too, but you can’t waste time with me. you’‘re going to be big one day while i stay me. small kim doyoung.”

 since that day nothing was the same. your life turned upside down. few years of solid relationship with your love and it’s gone. like someone broke the balloon you were living in. 

 past two months you had hopes he’d call. doyoung would show up with his lovely smile, and you could talk for another nonsense for hours again. doyoung would hug you and review your stories. that;s all you wanted. he could reach out but he never did. 

 there wasn’t second person like kim doyoung. seems like a confident guy but deep down he has his own battles. he’s shy person who can talk about serious stuff only to his closest friends. someone you can count on whenever you needs to. he had never let you down. he had weird hobbies, and amazing voice. his singing made you feel like on a cloud nine. 

 he should, could but he never would do whatever you were dreaming about. for you it was his cruel behaviour but you didn’t get to chance to know other side of doyoung. 

he was hurt deep down. he believed and gaslighted himself into thinking he’s bringing you down. doyoung’s bad days were worse, and he thought only about you. about how he’s not good enough. how empty he can be. 

“i’d watch match. today’s barcelona versus real madrid.” jungwoo whines. “please, johnny can you turn tv on?”

“sure dude.”

 johnny turned tv on, and there was break between match. some ads come in, and no one paid attention until familiar voice was heard.

“i wrote it book in a month to be fair. i had much more content to create but events that have happened during my writing process, lead me to write new story. i was writing day, night for a whole month. i can tell you, that main character is pretty much mirror of my feelings and situations.”

“so, you’re admitting that story of anne and daniel happened in real life? based on a true feelings?”

“yes, that’s true. i wrote that book with though of some boy who is very close to my heart.”

“i’m so sorry.” interviewer gasped. “i had no idea that so sad story would happen in real life. wasn’t it tough? as we all know, there was no happy end for daniel and anne.”

“of course it was. i hope one day, ‘daniel’ read the book and think about all the good times we spent together. i miss him still and..” you stopped. “and that’s it.”

 interview ended due to match. doyoung’s heart was pounding while everyone was speechless. you were literally everywhere and now you were talking about how your book was inspired by yours realtionship.

“i wish she could come back. i want to fix things-”

“doyoung, she’s-”

“no. i don’t care. i miss her so much.”

 doyoung broke down which surprised majority of guys. they tried their best to stop their friend from crying which was pointless. kim doyoung is madly in love, and he’s waiting until you come back but there’s no much chance.

#nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct au #nct scenarios #nct imagine #nct reactions #nct doyoung #doyoung #kim doyoung #doyoung au #doyoung scenarios #doyoung angst #angst #kpop angst #doyoung fluff #kim dongyoung #doyoung imagine #doyoung reaction #doyoung one shot #one shot #nct angst #kpop idol #kpop fanfic #nct fanfic #doyoung fanfic

[gremlins-stuff]

Chapter 1 🟢

Sabrina Jones is known for being the life of the party. Any given Friday night you can find her at any one of the local clubs or bars in Melbourne, but this story isnt about Sabrina.

This Story is about an introverted homebody, Zoe Burns to be exact. Zoe works hard to come home and sleep hard. She's happy with her Calm waters. She had the Power to make waves, but thats not her style. Even When others had something to Say, She didnt Care. Its her life, she Should do as she pleases right?

Zoe first met Sabrina when they were 19 and freshman in College. When Zoe Walked into her first lecture, it was Packed. There were very few seats open, indicating Musicology is a very popular course. Her eyes scanned the room, there were very few Open seats. One next to 3 boys slouched into their chairs, seeming to clutch their small fanny packs over their chests. Weird. They all looked like douchebaggy soccer players.

"Hell no " Zoe Whispers to herself. As she wandered further into the lecture hall, another seat became visible. Next to the empty seat there were 4 girls talking about Choreography and lyrics. Feeling confident, Zoe introduces herself and asked to sit down. All of their heads whipped around, their eyes scraping over Zoe head to toe.

"we're good.”

Said one of the girls before they all turned back to whatever they were doing. Zoe not comptetely sure of what just happened, turns and continues looking for a seat, She knew there was a reason for being early.

Just as Zoe was ready to admit defeat and just sit on the floor for the rest of the semester, a small girl with dark hair popped up from her seat, frantically waving Zoe over. The girl was stunning! She had hazel eyes and Small freckles littered all over her round Cheeks and the brightest smile Zoe had ever seen.

"Over here!" She Called. Zoe was caught off gaurd by the girts excitment. After the last interaction she had with her class mates Zoe didn’t expect much from the strangers in her class. Regardless, She squeezed past a few People to Claim her seat. As Zoe sits down the girl introduces herself as Sabrina Jones. Zoe returns the Sabrina’s kindness and introduced herself to Sabrina. That was the beginning of an unbreakable bond.

The girls never spent much time apart after becoming friends. After graduating from RMIT together, they moved into an apartment in Sabrina's hometown, Melvern. Felix, Sabrina's boyfriend moved in a few months after the girls had settled in. Sabrina met Felix at Some Club in Melbourne and says they “Zinged”.

Zoe only had 1 boyfriend throughout College. She didnt See that going very far so she broke it off. All he ever did was play video games and cheat off other students come exam time. The cheaters always disgusted Zoe…

Boys and dating were never her strong suit. She tried but always found herself more interested in her kdrama or book. When they would text it would be hours before there would be a reply. Zoe knew she sucked at dating so she just never really put effort into it. She was happy with herself.

Although working and watching TV doesn’t apeal to all, it apeals to her. After Coming home from a long day as a vocal coach for local Chair groups and organizations. She’ll immediately B line to the bathroom so she can relax in a hot bath with all of her favorite body oils and scents, Or she’ll be wrapped up in her warm comfy bed with her teddy bear David, a hot cup of coffee and a couple candles burning. Her career isn’t exactly what she wants but she’s happy to lend a hand when it’s needed. It also pays really well.

Zoe's little life pleases her. She loves her people and take pride in the fact that they are genine. They way she sees it her life is perfect as is.

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Authors Notes:

AHHHHH!!! I hope you guys like it. The 2nd chapter is already in the making and this is just the top of the iceberg. Let me know what you think!! I love you all very much 😭🫶🏻

Taglist:

@straykeedz @imastraykidsfan

(If you would like to be tagged in new chapters and progress updates please let me know in the notes)

#bangchan smut #bang chan #stray kids #you make stray kids stay #lee know #seo changbin #lee felix #han jisung #yang jeongin #seungmin #skz stay #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff

[ponymations]

Ayano dialogue: Doki Doki Literature club

Sayori:

“Sayori is such a sweet girl, pity she uses drugs in her off time.”

“I saw Sayori skipping school to tag buildings. You never really know someone huh?”

“Sayori should be careful, her clumsiness might lead to her fall off a building.”

"Sayori looks like a great friend, I would like to hang with her sometime."

“I pop off her scalp like the lid of a cookie jar, her mind melting on my fingers.”

Natsuki:

“I just realized you were talking to Natsuki. Took a minute since she’s SO unremarkable.”

“I cooked something for Natsuki to help her grow! It has a…special ingredient.”

“Natsuki is so cute. I just want to squeeze her until her neck snaps!”

"Natsuki's such a child, reading all of that silly manga. I bet you'd prefer a girl who reads books in the proper age range."

“You know what I heard about Natsuki? Natsuki likes maggots. And I’m gonna tell everyone.”

Yuri:

“So Yuri likes knives? Me too! I’m looking forward to showing her mine.”

“Careful with Yuri, Senpai. I tried talking to her and she cut me. So rude.”

“Did you hear about Yuri’s corpse fetish? It’s probably just a silly rumor.”

"Yuri's sophisticated act doesn't fool me, because I know what's she's hiding. Want me to tell you senpai?"

“I brandish my cutting knife, the raccoon flees in fear. A rush of blood. I slice it’s flesh. And I feed my love again.”

Monika:

“It looks like I have a tough opponent…for martial arts! Definitely that.”

“That Monika girl is weird, she told me I don’t belong in this game. What does that mean?”

"Do you know where Monika went? I could have sworn she was just here. I wanted to…tell her something."

"Dammit, where is she? I'll find her. Oh senpai! Didn't see you there. Just talking to myself."

"In your reality, if she doesn't love you, then I will."

Responses:

Sayori:

"Someone left a creepy poem about death in my locker today. I asked the other members and it wasn't any of theirs. Weird."

"Last night, I heard a strange voice while trying to sleep. It said awful things but I'm pretty sure it was just my inner voice."

"Oh my gosh! I found a noose hung outside my door! Who would do that?"

"Someone pushed me down the stairs today. Luckily I'm fine but the person left before I could see them."

"There's a girl hanging around school I've never met before. Maybe I can show her around sometime!"

Natsuki:

"I baked cupcakes this morning, but after a few minutes away I found they were all smashed! Whoever did this will regret messing with me!"

"I got a nasty email today. It said to watch my back or I'll die. Can I stay at your place tonight?"

"I found a dead mouse at my door. It was really gross. Did a cat leave it there?"

"I saw a girl staring at me at the store. They were holding a knife and it gave me chills. I told someone but she disappeared. Hope I never see her again."

"Help me! My manga showed up at my house. I don't know how they got there but we need to take them back before dad sees them!"

Yuri:

"Ever since I started reading the new horror novel, I've been feeling chills, like I've become part of one. Maybe I'm more invested than I thought."

"I found all my knives on the floor today. One of them wasn't mine and was covered in blood. I washed and kept it but it's still concerning."

"Someone sent me a gravestone with my name on it. It's actually really cool! I'll use it for this year's Halloween."

"I almost stepped on an exposed wire. It was outside my house like someone left it there. But why would someone do that?"

"OH! Someone tried choking me today with my scarf. Luckily, I had a knife and scared them away. I'm still shaken though, so can you walk home with me?

Monika:

"Ayano Aishi from Yandere simulator. Never had another game character visit my game before."

"Ayano's love for you is so strong she's crashing other games now. My love is stronger though, she won't stand a chance."

"I keep trying to delete her file, but it keeps coming back. She's really determined to kill us."

"Ayano doesn't scare me. She's such a stereotype that I can predict what she's going to do. The threatening letters, the watching through the windows, the gifts. Called them every time."

"It's actually becoming funny to watch her fail to kill me. I might keep her around a little longer before banning her file."

#crush crush #crush crush ayano #ayano aishi #doki doki literature club #doki doki monika #doki doki sayori #doki doki literature girls #ddlc monika #ddlc yuri #yuri ddlc #natsuki #sayori #crossover

[newtonsheffield]

Molly, I have so many questions about thank u, next!! Can we see antony doing breakfast with Mary? And patiently answering all her questions. Also also also, can we see kate being introduced to the bridgertons!!

okay thank u next has been a much more popular AU than I anticipated and I have no idea why? Can someone fill me in?

But anyway: Here's Anthony facing the Mary inquisition, and Kate meeting her first Bridgerton.

Anthony was nervous. He'd been nervous the whole time he'd sat in the back of the car, Kate's legs slung casually over his, Daphne's jeans a good two inches short on her legs, her hands in his hair, panic rising in his chest.

"Won't your Mum be a little startled to see you definitely didn't sleep at yours last night?!" Gesturing a little panickedly at the hickeys visible on her neck, trailing down to her chest covered by a shirt clearly not her own.

Kate had hummed, kissing his cheek, "Don't worry, she's not going to ask for compensation for my virginity, she's aware that ship has sailed."

"You are a very unhelpful person, has anyone ever told you that?" Anthony hums sadly, leaning into her touch anyway.

"They have, yes."

And his nerves definitely didn't abate when Mary Sharma whispered, "I have lost of questions for you."

He'd taken the opportunity, while the Sharma's had been arguing in rapid Tamil about something in the kitchen, whether some Auntie or another should be invited to Mary's birthday party he thought. Anthony was sat next to Edwina's girlfriend, a kindly looking woman with twist braids cascading down her shoulders who was looking on a little amused.

"You get used to it." Josie said smiling, a broad welsh accent, "Kate's really great."

"She is, I really really like her." He couldn't even stop himself. "Mrs Sharma, um- Mary she said she has some questions for me. Should I be worried?"

Josie hummed, "That depends... are you a serial killer? Have you ever killed a woman you've dated?"

Anthony's mouth fell open, "What?! No! Of course not!"

"I'm fucking with you, Anthony." Josie chuckled, nudging his arm gently, "Mary Sharma, is the kindest woman I've ever met. I was kind of worried that she might be one of those mum's that says they support you until you actually bring home your girlfriend, but like two weeks later she's got me at her book club, introducing me as Edwina's girlfriend. Happy as anything."

"It's a genuine miracle Josie puts up with you, Edwina." Mary hissed helpfully at that moment, swatting her daughter's hand away from the frying pan with a spatula, "Go and sit down!"

Edwina skulked back to the table with a smirk, "As you can see, Anthony, Kate's the favourite daughter."

"Well with an attitude like that you can see why." Kate hummed, sitting on Anthony's other side, pressing a kiss against his cheek.

"Please, I love you both equally." Mary hummed, kissing both the tops of their heads in such a motherly way, that it caught in Anthony's thought, especially because biologically he knew Kate wasn't her daughter, but he could tell she loved her so desperately.

"If Kate's not your favourite why is there only chocolate milk today?"

Mary rolled her eyes, marching back to the refrigerator, "Because your strawberry milk is on a different shelf! And you never bother to look!' She said brandishing it wildly.

"Love you Mum." Edwina grinned cheekily at her as the entire bottle got dropped unceremoniously on the table in front of her.

Mary hummed, "I'm sorry about the girls Anthony, wild little hellions, this is actually quite tame for them. I did try my best."

And he couldn't stop the smile that came to his face, "It's great, Mrs Sharma."

an hour later, anthony wasn't feeling so great when Mary looked shrewdly at him and then turned to Kate.

"Katie, sweetheart, I wondered if you could go up to the attic for me, It's hard for me to get up there in my old age."

Kate blinked, "You're 48."

"Please, there's a box of Papa's books up there I need."

Kate twitched, "Mary if you want to to talk to Anthony why don't you just say Everyone clear out so I can interrogate Anthony?"

Mary barely blinked, "Right everyone clear out so I can interrogate Anthony."

Kate rolled her eyes, before letting them dart to him, questioning Is this-

"It's fine, I'll see you in a second, go dig out some embarrassing pictures for me to look at."

"On it!" Edwina chirped, darting from the room, tugging Josie and kate with her, and he was alone with the woman she called her mother, but never to her face it seemed.

Mary was giving him a very curious expression, her head tilted, her eyes flicking over his sweater, her head tilted. "You're not what I imagined, when Kate told me she'd met someone."

Anthony's heart stuttered, "Is that a good thing?"

Mary just shrugged, "They were all rather... creative types. You seem a bit more..." Uptight, prim, a grumpy arsehole "polished. And it didn't work out with any of them."

Something settled in Anthony's chest. "I really like your daughter, Mrs. Sharma."

Mary chuckled, "Oh I can see that, I'm not worried about that. And she wouldn't have brought you here if she didn't feel the same."

Anthony's eyebrows shot up, "You've never met any of her exes?"

"No, I have. It's just... this, Sunday mornings, this is family time."

His stomach jolted, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude- she asked me and I-"

Mary waved him off, "I'm glad you're here, if she wants you to be, it's just, different."

Silence settled between them before Mary hummed, narrowing her eyes.

"How old are you Anthony?"

"Twenty nine, Ma'am. I'll be 30 next september."

She nodded, "And you do what for work?"

"My family owns a publishing... conglomerate, I suppose. Aubrey Hall."

Mary's eyes widened, "I see. And you manage it?"

He nodded, "I'm responsible I promise."

"What kind of car do you drive?"

"It's I- have a range Rover, but I haven't driven it in a while, I don't usually, It's difficult to find parking, It's only for when I go to the country."

She smiled, "So not a heinous sports car then."

He flushed, "No, ma'am."

"And your parents are in London?"

"My Mum is yes, my father passed away about a decade ago." It still stung at him.

Mrs Sharma softened, her eyes filled with grief, "I'm very sorry, Anthony. We lost the girls father a few years ago, it's very difficult."

He nodded, "I try my best to look after my siblings and my Mum like he would've done."

"That's very admirable." She smiled gently, "How many siblings do you have?"

"Seven. four sisters, Three brothers."

"Goodness your mother must be a saint, not a day goes by I'm not surprised Kate and Edwina made it to adulthood." She smiled gently, motherly, and Anthony couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Kate was very young when you met Mr Sharma?"

She looked surprised by the question, surprised he knew maybe, he couldn't tell, but the softest smile crossed her face. "I worked in my parents bookstore, and one day the most beautiful little girl marched up to me, with a book tucked under her arm and said You're very pretty, would you like to marry my Papa? And I don't know, I fell in love with them both. She was so easy to love."

Anthony felt it echo in his own chest, "She is definitely that." He cleared his throat, "I know how I must seem to you: A privileged white man, with family money, and people like that, christ some of the people I went to school with even, are exactly what's wrong with this country but I'm a good man, Mrs. Sharma. I look after my family, and I try to make them happy, and I can't even believe she gave me a chance because she's amazing and incredible and I am falling in love with your daughter."

Mrs Sharma blinked back at him for a very long moment with the oddest look on her face before she smiled and said, "You had better call me Mary then, sweetheart."

_____________________

It was risky, Daphne knew, to show up at Anthony's house unannounced on a Friday morning before breakfast even, but she really did need those jeans she'd left there.

She waved to John the doorman, who swiped his keycard and pressed the button, an inconvenient security measure but given the lift opened right into his living room she supposed it was necessary. She let her mind wander, running through the list of things she had to do today, Take simon's tux to the drycleaners, confirm the catering for the party next week, on and on, the lift dart upwards through the building, her fingers drumming on her handbag, sighing to herself as The doors slid open.

She didn't hear it at first, though maybe she should have, the feminine giggle, the masculine chuckle, but it's probably just as well, that'd send her right to therapy.

"Ant! It's just me!" She called out, scooting further into the living room, making her way through to the guest room where she knew she'd left her jeans when she and Simon had stayed the night, their own flat having a burst pipe.

Woof!

Daphne let out a sharp squeak of surprise as a dog scrambled off the sofa, darting to sit in front of her, looking up at her with a curious expression.

"Daff?!" Anthony's voice sounded a little panicked, but she didn't notice, she was too busy trying to process when the fuck Anthony had gotten a corgi.

"Ant! When did you get a-?"

Anthony scrambled through his bedroom door, looking absolutely disheveled his hair standing up in a million different directions, boxer shorts thrown in haphazardly, his cheeks flushed, his neck and chest littered with red marks and bruises and-

"Daff, hey, Daphne, Daphne hi, my sister Daphne is here!"

Daphne's brow furrowed, "why are you being so weird?"

"I'm not being weird. you're being weird." Anthony huffed, his arms crossed over his chest.

"If you're not being weird, who's the dog?"

"That's... not a real dog." Anthony said quickly, as the dog put his paws on her legs, tongue lolling happily an odd noise echoing from the bedroom. Anthony sighing, "Damnit, Newton."

"Daphne frowned, confusion welling in her chest. "Okay, well I just came to get my jeans."

Anthony paled, "You- you can't have them! You left them here they're mine!"

Daphne scoffed, stepping round him, "Yeah okay, Anthony."

"I sold them!" His voice was high, squeaky, just like the time he'd told their mother that he hadn't seen Colin and Ben melting her Barbie doll.

Daphne whipped around, her eyes narrowed, realisation dawning on her with a gasp! "Anthony! You gave them to one of your hook ups didn't you?!"

"She wasn't a hook up!"

Daphne rolled her eyes, "Conquest then. Fucking hell! You've given them to some tart and Now I'll never get them back! And Gucci's stopped making that-"

"Sorry!" A female voice rang out interrupting Daphne, nearly sending her reeling backwards.

A woman had appeared a little behind Anthony, in the doorway of his bedroom, one of his business shirts buttoned over her self, her dark hair in curly disarray, her face striking, even in it's sheepish expression, a gold ring catching the light in her nose, a bright flash of colour against her sternum, as Anthony's hand settled on her waist.

"Sorry, that was my fault. And I think your brother's very gently trying to save my dignity by making it seem like I didn't come to his house and need a new set of clothes to leave in a few days later." She shot Anthony a slightly exasperated expression, before she kissed his cheek, and Daphne watched as Anthony, Anthony who grumbled like a bear woken early from hibernation smiled a little adoringly, tucking the woman closer into his side.

"He's a sweet little cutie."

A cutie?! Daphne was a little horrified.

"Anyway, I put your jeans in to get dry cleaned, they should be done by tonight."

"Sorry, you are?" Daphne couldn't help but wonder who this mystery woman was, that had Anthony wound tightly around her finger.

The woman's eyes widened in surprise, "Oh shit, sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Kate."

Kate? Who was-?

"Kate's my girlfriend, Daff."

Daphne's mouth dropped open in surprise, "Right, well I- Of course, Kate, yes, I've heard so many great things-"

Kate laughed, darting forward to take her offered hand, "No, you haven't. That's alright: I'm 27, I illustrate children's books, I grew up in London, and the dog's name is Newton, and we wear the same size jeans though yours were a bit short."

"I'm really sorry I called you a tart." Daphne said quickly.

Kate laughed again, her head thrown back, but Daphne was barely paying attention, too stuck on the way Anthony was smiling at Kate as though she hung the sun in the sky. "No, it's fine." she poked Anthony's ribs, "and it's not exactly wrong, but I like this one."

Anthony darted down, kissing her forehead, before he cleared his throat, turning towards her, "Do you want breakfast, Daff? Kate'll bring your jeans back tonight."

And when she left Anthony's house 45 minutes later, with new lunch plans for next week there was only one thing to do:

The second the phone connected she was blurting it out. "Mum, did you know Anthony has a girlfriend?!"

"You've met Kate?! She's comign to family dinner tonight apparently."

"Yes, I just went to his place to pick something up and she was there."

her mother scoffed impatiently, "Well, what was she like, what does she look like?"

"She's stunning I wanted to curl in on myself." It was a little true, though Daphne knew she wasn't unattractive, there had just been something about Kate's quiet confidence. " She was witty and funny and kind And she hasn't figured out that she's way too good for him yet, we need to get this girl locked down."

"Daphne your brother is very charming when he-"

"Mum, she called him a cutie."

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a long moment before Violet let out a shuddering gasp, "Right, get round here, we need to plan."

#thank u next #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #mary sharma #sharma family feels #bridgerton family tomfoolery #daphne bridgerton #violet bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

[raebayhc]

Girls Night Out

warnings: implied virgin, fingering, lesbian implied, bi implied, public sex, smut, fluff, angst

word count: 2164

summary: you along with your groups of friends decide to have a girls' night for the first time in a while, things get heated and your friends end up taking turns using your body.

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It was a Thursday night and you along with the other ladies who went to the same college as you decided to go out and have a girls’ night. Yall planned on going to see a movie, going out for drinks, then finally retiring to Sasha’s barn where yall planned to stay up late telling spooky stories trying to freak one another out. Normally you wouldn’t agree to something like this because socially you were a lost cause, you had many friends and were very close to them. However, when it came to hanging out in large groups and even going out in public with the group, that’s when you started to get anxious. Your friends always had your back though and you knew that. Ultimately you decide not to fret too much and just have fun.

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It was the beginning of a very long night, you and pieck were roommates so yall got ready at the same time and left together to meet everyone else at the theatre. On the ride there pieck looked over to you and broke the silence- “if it becomes too much just let me know, I’m good to go home anytime.. Okay darling?” she patted your thigh and you nodded waiting for her warm hand to leave its place. It never did. She kept her hand on your thigh occasionally tapping to the beat of the music she turned on after yall briefly spoke. You felt your cheeks begin to warm as you peered out the window. Nobody within the group of friends knew you swung that way you wouldn’t dare tell them fearing the absolute worst. You knew they would love you no matter what and you never thought they would say anything hurtful but you still kept your little secret to yourself.

Piecks hand remained on you the whole car ride to the theatre. When yall arrived you hopped out of the car with intent... That intent being getting away from under piecks touch as you know you wouldn’t be able to hide your heavy breath for much longer. You played it off as getting “all excited” about seeing the movie when you really just wanted to escape. You waited as pieck slowly gathered her items and met you outside the car, yall then proceeded to walk through the glass doors into the theatre where the rest of the girls were already waiting.

“Yo what took yall so long??” Sasha said while stuffing her face full of popcorn. “Yeah, we thought we were gonna miss the movie because of you two” Ymir followed, whilst rolling her eyes. You look around to check everyone out, Historia and Ymir were clinging together, as usual, Sasha and Mikasa playing “hot hands” in the corner. You laughed as Mikasa gagged after Sasha got butter all over her hands. Pieck walked off to go meet hitch at the counter to get some candy. You giggled to yourself and told the girls that the movie was going to start soon and yall should probably head to yalls seats.

Finally, in yalls seats waiting for the movie to begin, you were sat between Sasha and Mikasa. You were definitely closer to these two than you were anyone else. Yall had been a trio since fourth grade and nothing could ever split yall apart. Nothing. All of the ladies were quite touchy with each other, it was all platonic of course. Why wouldn’t it be? Sasha snatched your right hand and hugged your shoulder burying her nose in the crook on your neck as a monster popped out at the screen. “Why would you choose a horror movie when you can't handle them” you whispered to Sasha to which she replied “because I like the way it makes me feel y/n, I get all tingly and itchy” you rolled your eyes holding back a chuckle so you wouldn’t disturb the others during the quiet scene.

You felt a slight tug at your left hand as Mikasa habitually grabs your hand. She tends to do that when she has nothing to do with her hands, it “helps her stay focused” she has explained to you a million times. Between Sashas breath on your neck and Mikasa drawing circles on your hand with her index you couldn’t help but squirm. You go to whisper something about the movie to Mikasa when she goes to do the same, your faces come within an inch of each other, noses barely touching you feel her breath out her nose as it fans across your lips. Your face turns bright pink as you halt in surprise. “I wanted to point out that actor….. Since we’ve spoken about them before…” she spoke softly. You replied with a small “me too…”. Yall have yet to part until you are broken up by screams as the movie takes a turn and Sasha yanks your arm “AHHHHH Y/N HELP!!!!!” Sasha screams in a high-pitched tone. You turn breaking your eye contact with Mikasa “Sasha! Be quiet we arent the only ones here!” you jab at her as you apologetically smile at the others in the theatre. You momentarily forgot about the moment you and Mikasa had until she takes her hand and places it on the back of your neck. Thumb swiping up and down, she pulls you a bit closer to whisper “awfully close weren’t we…” she lets that sentence linger before playfully giggling and removing her hand from your nape.

The movie was finally over and you were one of the last to leave your seat, since you decided to pick up all the popcorn Sasha had dropped after one of the jumpscares, you stand up, lifting your arms towards the ceiling, stretching and letting out a soft moan. You felt hands slither from the small of your back to the front of your hips “wow y/n, you have a hot moan. Whoever sleeps with you must be lucky” Ymir says before shifting you to the side to make way for her and historia. “Ugh, Ymir how many times do I have to tell you it’s not ladylike to talk about such things so casually” “I know I know I’m sorry... But it had to be pointed out” Ymir shrugged “she does have a point y/n.. You have an attractive voice it makes sense your moans would be..” historia pitches in and she looks you up and down before continuing “h o t” she lingers on the t a bit before moving on. You could feel your arousal pooling. The ladies seem different tonight... Maybe it’s just you... Maybe it’s not... They walk out and you follow suit.

You decide to ride with hitch since yall haven’t spoken a lot tonight, you ask her about life and she goes on to rant about her boyfriend noting that he’s not good in bed and she hates his haircut, she finishes her rant off with “ugh maybe I should just switch to girls! You’d date me right y/n?” you pause for a moment then reply with a simple “who wouldn’t!” a simple sentence yet complex at the same time. She turns to you and examines your face “you know I think id be a top if I were with a girl… in fact, you’d make a perfect bottom for me..” her eyes linger a bit too long, your skin crawling whilst illuminated by the red light yall were stopped at. It flashes green and her eyes return to the road “of course if I was single and into girls hahaha” she plays it off.

Yall arrive at the bar shortly after Sasha and Mikasa who had taken the same car and followed by Ymir who carpooled with historia. Mikasa and Sahsa hand out everyone’s paper wristbands, Sasha stops in front of you takes your hand, and putting it on for you. She didn’t do it for anyone else… just you. You decided you were overthinking and you moved on, walking into the club you were bombarded with loud music busybodies and the smell of alcohol. You were stressed, so many people, so many noises, so many smells. It was overwhelming, to say the least. Pieck noticed your uneasiness and placed her hand on the small of your back, she led you to a dark hallway filled with heavy pheromones and kissing partners, past that was a bathroom to which she leads you, pushed you in, followed after you, and locked the door. “Wh-” pieck covered your mouth with a single finger, “I noticed your stress, we can leave if you need y/n” a look of sorrow on her face. “No I’m fine it was just a lot at once I’m sorry, I’m okay now” you push out with a soft smile. Her body moving closer to you she wraps an arm around you pulling you closer “baby… tell me if you need anything, mmkay?” she purrs into your neck giving it a soft peck. Your arousal beginning to pool again you squeeze your thighs.

She excuses herself letting you go and leaving the bathroom. Turning around to face the mirror you scold yourself for acting the way you are when your friends are just being nice, they’d probably feel so grossed out if they knew your cunt was getting all nice and soaked for them, you thought. “Maybe I just need to relieve some stress… yeah that's all it is… built-up stress…” you hiked up the mini skirt that you decided to wear today above your hips and you pulled your new pink lace panties to the side. Beginning to slide your fingers over your unclothed clit the door rattles “hey bear, pieck said you weren’t feeling well so I brought you a dri-” historias sentence is cut short when she looks up to see you sitting on the counter sprawled open like a book. “I’m so so-” you begin before she hurriedly shuts and locks the door behind her.

“I- i- can explain-” she cuts you off before you get a chance to explain “oh bear..” a slight purr in her voice “who knew you had such a perfect pussy?.. All this time you’ve been hiding it from me?” she pouts, you’ve never seen her act this way much less talk this way before. Shocked by her actions you freeze, she steps closer and peers up into your eyes, lifting a hand to show she has her pinky and index slightly bent, she speaks “..may I?” if this was any other night you would freak out, apologize, get dressed quickly and leave, but for some reason you cant. “Please do” a slight whininess in your voice. Taking her ring and middle finger she traces a line from your entrance to your clit making you twitch once she reaches the small bud. She chuckles a bit and continues, pushing her middle finger into you, slowly but surely, you lay your head back resting it on the mirror. A low groan leaves her throat as you tighten around her finger “y/n… can I ask you a question? Hmm?” “nghh yes” you manage to push out through cries and moans. “You’re a virgin aren’t you, bear? Nobody has ever touched this perfect little body. Nobody has ever stuck their fingers in you either, huh?” you nod trying to keep sane while her pace quickens, you squint your eyes shut forcing tears out and down the sides of your face. Your response influenced her as she moved faster prodding another finger at your entrance and pushing it in with her other. “Ahh fuck ‘ri’” RI was a name you’ve called her since yall first met, originally made because you couldn’t remember her full name but it kind of just stuck throughout the years. “I’m gonna- I think I’m g-” cut off by the feeling of her warm tongue prodding your clit, dangerously licking and lapping, boy did she know how to please, and that she did. “RI oh shit” you grab a fistful of her hair as your orgasm hits, continuing to finger fuck you and lightly lick your sensitive bud she helps you ride out your high. “..- first, right?” you couldn’t make out what she said through your hazy mindset “what RI?” she repeats “I was your first, right??” you nod with lazy eyes, she smiles a big smile then gives you a sloppy kiss, you groan into her lips.

She cleans you up then helps you off the counter. Now realizing what had just happened you panic pushing out a quick “oh my goodness ri I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to put you in that position” she chuckles “don’t worry bear there are plenty of other positions I plan to have you in” before you could really digest that she tugs at your wrist leading you out to the main hallway and back to your groups of friends. The night has only begun….

THE END Pt. 1

this is my first fanfic ever so I'm sorry if it's bad!! I will continue to improve trust me! also, this will be a multi-part series so stay updated!

#aot #girls love #fanfic #smut #pieck finger #historia reiss #mikasa ackerman #hitch aot #ymir aot #sasha braus #mikasa x reader #sasha x reader #hitch x reader #pieck x reader #ymir x reader #historia x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; tags to be added as story progresses

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: Lee’s slowly creepin’ and I hope you’re ready for it.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You slurped the last of your shake through the straw, the paper cup damp in your cold hands as the heater blew out hot air. The foamy dregs of the drink were overly sweet and made your cheeks twinge. Lee popped the lid off his cup and offered it and you slipped yours inside. He pulled the straw out and stacked the lids, squeezing both straws through and setting it on the seat beside him.

He stretched his arm over the leather, his hand just behind your head and you listened to the deep voice of the narrator recount the eerie words of HP Lovecraft. You fidgeted and looked at your watch. The sky was dark and the stars twinkled down ominously.

“Um,” you uttered, “I think... uh…”

He looked at you and his hand hovered close to your shoulder, “what is it, honey?”

“I think I should get home,” you finished.

“Oh, why’s that? You don’t got class tomorrow, do ya?”

“I don’t but… well, I’m tired,” you rubbed your neck and sat up so he couldn’t touch you, “I had an early morning.”

“Well, of course,” he retracted his arm and straightened up, he pulled the car into gear and slowly pressed down on the gas, “you should get to bed, little girl.”

You scowled at the venom in his last two words. He’d been nice but he had no right to patronize you. You hated that most. People thought because you were quiet they could just treat you like you were dull.

“I’m not… not a little girl,” you eked out.

“Ah, I didn’t mean nothing by it,” he said as he pulled out of the lot, “you are little though, ain’t ya?”

You felt a peculiar heat creep up your neck and cheeks. You were short but you’d met a few people smaller than you. People came in all shapes and sizes. You didn’t comment on his stomach or the wrinkles around his eyes. Yet, the humour in his voice kept you from rebuke.

“I guess, I…”

‘I don’t mean it as an insult, you see?” he chuckled, “kinda cute you can’t reach the floor.”

“Mmm,” you inhaled and pursed your lips. You pulled the collar of your pea coat closed and wiggled your foot nervously.

“I see,” he said, “you got your friends waitin’ on ya, huh? Yeah, young girl like you don’t wanna be hanging around an old man all night.”

“I didn’t say that,” you said.

“Hey, I’m not stupid, I was only bein’ nice,” he interrupted, “you looked lonely and I… I got carried away.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” you scrambled as he passed by the college entrance, “I was… I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re in such a hurry, honey, you can’t wait to be away from me,” he ranted, “actin’ all sweet and shy but you just like the rest of them.”

“What?” you grimaced and watched the buildings pass by, “no, I’m not. I…” you felt guilty as if you’d done something wrong. All you wanted was to go home and lay down, but it felt like a personal affront. “I… lied.”

“What?” he asked as your voice fizzled.

“I lied, sir,” you confessed, “I don’t have any friends. Not really, just… classmates.”

“Nah, that can’t be true,” he scoffed, “who wouldn’t wanna be friends with a pretty girl like you?”

“No, no, please, I… I’m sorry, I just want to go home, okay? I’m tired,” you cupped your cheek and slumped in defeat.

He was quiet for a moment as he drove along. He turned along the line of residences and streetlights flashed over his profile as he stared at the road. He flipped into park as he stopped in front of your building and nodded. 

“Alright, I believe you,” he said at last, “I don’t wanna keep you up and I didn’t mean to get so upset. It's just, well, I like being with you.”

“It’s fine, thank you… for everything. The milkshake was good.”

“No, I mean it, it’s a pity no one else can see it,” he went on, “you’re real smart and nice. You got a pretty smile too when you show it, too.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly as you gripped the door handle, “that’s very kind. I should go--”

“Wait, wait,” he caught your arm, not tightly, but kept you from getting out as the door opened an inch, “can I come back? Next week, we’ll have another shake and listen to the show. I’m really curious what happens.”

“I don’t know, I… I have lots of work to do,” you looked at his large hand on your arm. He dropped it and wiped his palm on his brown pants.

“You bring your homework, honey, you can study and listen, I don’t mind,” he offered, “if you don’t want a shake, we can get some burgers and fries. Have a nice dinner?”

You smushed your lips together and thought. He hadn’t done anything bad enough to warrant that feeling in your gut. You were overthinking things just like you always did. Besides, he had to be almost fifty, he was just being friendly, he said it himself. 

And what else did you have to do? You didn’t have any friends and it was too late to start making them.

“I… okay,” you said softly, “my book club ends at seven. It’s over at Clover Hall.”

“I’ll find you there then,” he smiled, “now go on, before I keep you out any later.”

You got out and scooped out your bag with you. You closed the door and headed up the path without looking back. You got to the door and focused on unlocking it. Your hands were shaking and your mind was reeling. You always lamented being little more than a fly on the wall but it was completely overwhelming to be noticed.

📚

You clacked away on the keys of your typewriter. Your dorm room was small and stuffy as dry heat rose from the dingy old radiator. You could hear your roommates in the kitchen as they gabbed and laughed loudly. You were jealous yet too intimidated to try and ingratiate yourself. You always just ended up in the corner as everyone else had fun.

Your assignment was to write a review of a primary resource borrowed from your visit to the archive. You carefully looked over the laminated manuscript between sentences. Your small radio played in the background and you couldn’t help but nod to the full tones of the jazzy music.

You were drawn from your entranced study by a knock at your door. It was unusual to be disturbed unless there were chores to dole out. You didn’t have time to wipe up their messes again. You got up and went to the door and opened it an inch.

“Hi,” you said meekly as Gina stood with a box in her hands.

“This is for you,” she held out the package, “it was down at the residence office.”

“Me?” you let the door fall open and took the box, “I don’t…” You looked it over but there was no address, only your name, “thank you.”

She left without another word and you nudged the door shut with your elbow as you turned. Your parents only sent you letters, they didn’t like to pay the pricy postage for a whole package. You put the box down on your single bed and peeled back the brown tape. The flaps came open and you peeked inside curiously.

You took out the skirt, a yellow plaid piece shorter than anything you’d ever owned. It was the new style found on the cover of Vogue. You put it aside and reach for the blouse, a pure white thing with bell sleeves. Lastly, a pair of knee high heels to top off the mod look.

There was an envelope amid it all, the note inside short and scribbled.

‘Saw this and thought of you, honey.’

You stared at the paper and folded it back up. It was a nice gesture but you couldn’t wear that. You couldn’t accept the gift either, it was too much. Every garment you owned was second-hand and you’d seen the prices of these clothes in the magazines. 

And, you wondered as you packed the box and shoved it against the wall, why would the sheriff buy you all that? His friendliness made you uneasy. It was suffocating and yet, you could find no fault in someone being too generous. 

You realised too, how little you knew about him. What if he had wife or even a family? What if he didn’t? What if he was only doing it to fill in some gap in his life? Maybe he was playing out some father-daughter relationship he never had.

Well, you could ask him next time you saw him. Or try to.

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #the devil all the time #laisse tomber les filles

[seijorhi]

insidious

Hinata Shoyo x female reader (+ Miya Atsumu x female reader)

tw dub-con/non-con, yandere, voyeurism, nsfw, smut but like just a sprinkle

Atsumu’s never considered himself much of a relationship guru, but surely he can’t be the only one who notices there’s something real fuckin’ weird about your relationship with Hinata.

Admittedly, the first few times he met you, he wasn’t paying all that much attention. Sure, you were hot, and he’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t snuck a peek every now and then; but his focus has always been on the game, on his teammates. On himself as a setter. It’s why he’s got a strict no girlfriends policy during the season. Atsumu doesn’t do distractions.

And he likes Hinata. On the court, the little dude’s a monster for him to unleash and he’d love him for that alone, but somehow despite being a 5’7” excitable ball of crazy intensity off the court as well, the redhead’s impossible not to get along with. 

There’s a few guys on the team that have partners – fuck, Meian’s even married, his wife five months pregnant with their second kid. But it doesn’t hit him until maybe three or so weeks after Hinata joins the team that he’s never seen any of them (or the ones that came before them) show up at every single training session. 

You do. 

Rain, hail or shine, no matter how early Hinata starts or how late he stays, you’re there, sitting in the stands, just… watching. It’s not a bad thing exactly. He knows Bo thinks it’s cute, gets all moony eyed and sappy about it and Hinata certainly doesn’t seem bothered by it, beaming up at you after every point scored, every successful spike, every receive. 

But it’s just– they train six days a week. It’s long hours and a lot of it’s just drills and exercising till they’re dead on the floor, and even hardcore volleyball fans would find it boring to sit through day in and day out. You don’t take a book or sit there on your phone; you just watch idly as they train. 

Day in, day out. 

There ain’t a rule against it; their practices are closed to the public but the team have a few passes they can hand around on the odd occasion. It’s more of an unspoken understanding; you can invite who you want, so long as you’re focused and they don’t make a fuss.

You never do though, quiet as a mouse as you wait for Hinata to finish up. 

“Don’tcha think it’s weird though?” he asks Sakusa one afternoon, wiping the sweat from his brow as he watches Hinata slump down beside you after practice wraps up, pulling you into a nuzzling embrace.

Sakusa makes a noncommittal noise, but dark eyes regard the two of you nonetheless. “She moved with him from Brazil, didn’t she?” 

Atsumu shrugs, “And?”

“She doesn’t have any friends or family here, no roots, no job, just Hinata,” he says – slowly, like Atsumu’s an idiot. 

And he tries to put himself in your shoes for a minute, imagine what it would be like to follow someone halfway across the world (further actually, because he’s pretty sure you weren’t from Brazil to begin with) but it’s not the same. Even without Samu, or his friends or his family, even in a country with weird customs and a language that wasn’t his own, Atsumu’s always been good at finding his feet. 

But he supposes he can understand why you cling to Hinata. Though it’s really more a case of Hinata clinging to you, ‘cause whenever he turns around, it’s the redhead who’s the one all over you, pulling you into cuddles, twining his fingers with yours, peppering your face with butterfly kisses. Like he’ll just die if he’s not touching you every second you’re together.

It’s either sickeningly cute or revoltingly excessive, and for the life of him Atsumu can’t figure out which. 

You’d think it’s his first relationship or something, that he’s stuck in some weird puppy love honeymoon phase, but from what he’s heard the two of you have been together for years now – that’s just the way Hinata is, apparently.

He shouldn’t be too surprised; the guy’s always first in line to jump on his back or try and tackle him to the floor after any successful play. Between him and Bokuto, he’s got more bruises littered over his body than a linebacker, but they’re a tactile team, and he usually gives as good as he gets. 

You’re not one for excessive PDA though. You never fight against the overbearing affection, don’t shrug it off or shrink away – at least, not from what he’s noticed – but Atsumu hasn’t seen you initiate anything more than a quick peck to his cheek when Hinata’s got you all bundled up in his arms.

And he gets that not every relationship has to be equal in that sense, different love languages and all that crap, but while you don’t fight it, you never seem… entirely comfortable with it either. Not in the ‘stop, we’re in public, please don’t’ kinda way, but–

He can’t put a finger on it. 

You smile at Hinata, cheer when he scores, let him pet and kiss and pull you around wherever he wants, but you never seem to relax properly, and it bothers him. He doesn’t know why it bothers him.

If he hadn’t met you, hadn’t known that you’d been with Hinata since he was dirt poor and moonlighting as a delivery boy in Brazil, he’d be tempted to think that you were only in it for the money. It’s not a bad plan, as far as these things go – find some up and coming athlete to place all your bets on, get him wrapped around your finger before success goes to his head. And he doesn’t know you all that well and has absolutely zero fucking justification to back it up, but you don’t strike him as the money hungry type.

You don’t strike him as anything, and maybe that’s part of the issue.

Hinata’s like a sun; he’s gonna eclipse anyone standing too close. That’s normal. The team; him and Sakusa, Bokuto, the others – they have their own talents to stand on, to push through and shine on their own, but you… 

Fuck, why does it even matter?

Why does it bother him? It ain’t his relationship. You never complain, you make Hinata happy – he’d have to be blind not to see how much that guy loves you – and he dotes on you, spoils the shit out of you, so why can’t he shake this feeling in his gut that something ain’t right there?

It ain’t his relationship, and Atsumu’s not stupid enough to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.

It ain’t his relationship.

It’s not, and he has more important things to focus his time and energy on.

You aren’t his problem. Fuck, you’ve barely spoken more than a few sentences to him! There’s no reason for why he can’t get you and your stupid relationship with his wing spiker outta his mind. 

“Just admit ya wanna fuck her and stop bitchin’ about it,” Samu groans one night when Atsumu stops by the restaurant after training. “Yer looking for a problem between the two of them so ya don’t feel guilty about it.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Shut yer trap, wouldja, Samu? I said it ain’t like that!”

He’s not gonna stand there and deny that he thinks you’re hot, but that’s not what this is about. Never has been. 

It’s quiet between them for a moment, Atsumu angrily stabbing at the onigiri on his plate, but he feels it when Osamu looks at him. Really looks, dark eyes flickering across his face, reading him like an open book. Samu might enjoy giving him shit and winding him up just for the sake of it, but there’s nobody on earth who knows him better. 

Eventually he sighs, and the air feels different between them. Heavier, somehow. “What’re ya saying, Tsumu? Ya think Hinata’s hurting her or somethin’?”

Yes. 

No.

He knows Hinata. Well, for a few months at least, but peripherally for years. Ever since high school. And Atsumu’s had the displeasure of knowing guys like that, guys who liked to feel big and tough and strong and would gladly slap around some pretty thing just to feel all manly and shit, and Hinata’s not– 

He doesn’t treat you like you’re made of glass or anything, but every time he touches you, so much as looks at you with those bright eyes, it’s with this kind of intense, burning love that Atsumu just doesn’t understand, that honestly freaks him out a little. He’s never seen bruises littering your skin – at least, not the kind that Samu’s worried about. You don’t flinch away from Hinata’s touch. 

(You never look comfortable though. Never happy – not like Hinata is.)

No. He’s a good guy, he wouldn’t hurt a fly, and despite the lingering unease Atsumu has about the two of you, he doesn’t doubt for a second that Hinata is head over fucking heels in love with you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

He wouldn’t.

“No, ‘course not! I just…” he breaks off, shaking his head. And he chews on his lip for a moment, debating with himself whether he should actually admit what he’s been thinking the past few weeks or whether Samu’s just gonna call him a pussy or something and tell him to knock it off. “I get the feeling she doesn’t wanna be there. She’s smiling and sitting there all pretty, but it’s just… I dunno, it’s just weird.”

Osamu doesn’t say much after that, but he doesn’t really need to. He knows what his brother’s thinking. If you weren’t happy, you’d leave. If Hinata wasn’t treating you right, you’d leave. You’d tell someone. But it ain’t that simple, is it? 

Atsumu’s always had a problem sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. 

The first game of the season’s a slam dunk, and while they’re usually pretty tame during the season, beating Kageyama and Ushijima, last year's undefeated champs is cause for celebration. He’s not surprised to see you there at the club, tucked under Hinata’s arm in some little black dress, all dolled up. You smile at him, a hollow, fleeting thing, and Atsumu hates how the sight of it makes his stomach clench. 

Sakusa, Bokuto and Inunaki arrive moments later, a drink’s shoved into his hands and he forces himself to think of other things. You aren’t his problem, you aren’t his girl, and he’s definitely not watching you dance, your back flush with Hinata’s front, the wing spiker’s hands splayed across your hips, his mouth trailing greedily along your neck. 

And for the first time since this whole stupid thing started, Atsumu recognises the ugly feeling stirring in the pit of his gut. It’s jealousy.

He’s played one of the best games of his life today, his team’s fucking amazing, the music’s good and the alcohol is free flowing – he should be happy. And there’s absolutely no reason he should be watching you out of the corner of his eye, waiting for an opening.

It shouldn’t make his heart skip a beat when Hinata leans down to whisper something in your ear, passing you his glass as he heads off to find the men’s. He’s midway through a conversation of his own with Adriah and Bokuto that he’s barely paying attention to, and there’s a voice in his head (one that sounds suspiciously like Samu’s) that tells him to just let it go, but his feet are already moving, a half hearted excuse spilling from his lips as he slips past them both to make his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is too quiet, too breathless to carry across over the music, but he’s taller than you, taking up your space and he isn’t imagining the way that your eyes widen, a flicker of something passing your face before you school your features back into that same fake, pleasant smile. 

He doesn’t imagine the nervous look you dart over his shoulder in the direction Hinata walked off in. 

You take a delicate sip from your glass, the very same one you’ve been nursing since you arrived and he watches – watches – as you force yourself to relax, the tension easing from your shoulders, your posture softening. “Miya,” you greet, raising your voice just enough to be heard. “Congratulations on the win.”

It’s so polite, so fucking fake that it makes him wanna hurl. 

“Atsumu,” he corrects before he can help himself. Sakusa calls him Miya, but nobody else – nobody who knows him – does. He can’t bear the sound of it on your lips, like you’re nothing more than strangers. 

He’s talked to you before, right? Surely. 

You’re just standing there, perfectly at ease around him and the others – if not for the finger tapping anxiously against the stem of your glass, a tic he wonders if you’re even aware of. You might be able to fool the others – admittedly, they’re probably not paying you too much attention – but he’s used to picking up on the smallest details. 

And he’s become real good at reading you these past few weeks.

“So tell me, how’d the two of ya meet?” he asks instead, because he’s rushed in here with no game plan and it’s the first thing that comes to mind. He doesn’t even care about the answer; now that he’s finally here, finally has you to himself for a moment, he just wants to hear you talk. 

“Oh, um,” you swallow, ducking your head so you’re not meeting his gaze anymore. “It’s a little embarrassing–”

A familiar, bright laugh cuts you off, and Atsumu’s heart hammers when Hinata slaps him on the shoulder, “It’s not embarrassing, babe, it’s cute!” 

Deep brown eyes meet his; wide, glittering and freakishly intense and he fights the urge to recoil. He’s done nothing wrong, he knows that, but Hinata’s staring at him like every thought he’s ever had about you is written right across his face, plain as day.

And you – you look like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, like Hinata’s stumbled on you shoving your tongue down his throat rather than just having an innocent, friendly conversation with his teammate. It’s a split second that stretches a lifetime, but when he dares to look over, you’re rigid, eyes wide and full of panic and he knows, he fucking knows that he’s right. 

“Tell him,” Hinata urges, wasting no time in slipping past Atsumu to take his place by your side.

His arm wraps around your waist, squeezing you gently, and after a single, tense beat, you comply. “O-on the first week of my trip to Brazil, I was mugged. Shoyo saw it all happen and chased after them – got my purse back for me, even walked me back home to make sure I was okay, patched me up and everything.” You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you gaze up at Hinata, “He was my knight in shining armour.”

Hinata preens as you smile, but it’s still wrong. Atsumu’s seen what hero worship looks like, what real love looks like, and he’ll hand it to you; you have the basics down pat, but you can’t fake everything. 

With bitterness and disgust eating away at his gut, it becomes suffocating, standing there trying to carry a conversation and pretending that whatever there is between the two of you is in any way fucking romantic–

It’s too much, like somebody has a grip on his lungs, viciously squeezing out the last of his breath, and he barely remembers to excuse himself before he’s shoving his way through the crowd, knocking Meian’s concerned hand away as he flees for the balcony.

The late summer night air’s warm and humid, but he gulps it down in big, gasping heaves, clinging to the rail like it’s a lifeline. 

You’re fucking with his head and he hates it. He hates that he can’t let this go, can’t get you out of his goddamn head no matter how hard he tries. Atsumu’s always been a selfish, arrogant bastard, why should he give two shits about some girl whose last name he doesn’t even know?

He wants to despise you. He wants to forget you, to shove you aside like he has every other distraction in his life. It’s not his problem you’ve found yourself in some fucked up relationship.

But he squeezes his eyes shut, and all Atsumu can see is your face. 

He stays out on that balcony until his body stops shaking, until the sweat on his forehead cools and he no longer feels like he’s gonna throw up. The beat of the music, spilling muted from the glass doors, wraps around him now that the pounding in his head’s subsided, tempting him back inside. Any other night, and he’d follow it, get absolutely shitfaced and party till he doesn’t remember his own name.

And as he stands there alone, staring up at the Tokyo city skyline, part of him almost wants to give in – to drink himself to oblivion. Because at least that’d be easier.

But he won’t.

Instead, Atsumu shoves his feelings down, musters up a lazy smirk and walks back inside. He has every intention of saying goodbye to at least a few of his teammates before heading back to the hotel room to crash, but as his eyes scan the crowded floor, he catches sight of something that stops him cold in his tracks.

Hinata has you pinned to the wall, his face buried in the crook of your neck, but that’s not what makes his heart skip a beat. It’s the way your dress is hiked up, your panties shoved to the side, Hinata’s hand between your thighs, fucking you on his fingers.

It’s the look on your face, screwed up in pleasure – or pain – biting down on your lip to stifle your cries. It wouldn’t make a difference. Nobody would be able to hear you over the music, and even if they could he doubts anyone would give a fuck.

His mouth dries out, every thought eddying from his head as he watches you cling to Hinata, your hands gripping his arms tight. Your makeup’s smudged, a tear spilling down your cheek catches the glittering lights of the club, but when your head tilts back he knows it’s a moan that leaves your lips. He can almost hear it, picture it in his mind. You’re shuddering, shaking your head even as your eyes are squeezed shut and the only sound Atsumu can hear is the restless thumping of his own heart.

And then your eyes flutter open and find his. He watches, frozen in place, transfixed in the worst possible way as mortification flashes across your features and your lips move–

Whatever you say to him, Hinata doesn’t stop. He just shifts a little, angles his body in a way that gives Atsumu a better view of your pussy and the attention he’s paying it. He can’t look away even if he desperately wants to, utterly enthralled by the slickness coating the digits, the way your thighs tremble and quake as those fingers curl inside of you, the little jolt you give when Hinata’s thumb rubs at your puffy clit.

Atsumu watches, equal parts horrified and mesmerised as he pushes you over the edge and you cum for him, a pleasured cry drowned out by the music, shaking and breathless and beautifully wrecked in his teammate’s arms. And as you all but collapse against him, Hinata finally turns to glance over his shoulder, meeting Atsumu’s stare.

And with his eyes fixed on the blonde, he whispers something into your ear that Atsumu doesn’t have a hope in hell of hearing, presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek and grins.

It’s enough to rip him out of his stupor, stumbling back with a gasp as his blood runs cold. Hinata knew, he knew he was watching – put on a fucking show for him, and suddenly the nausea returns, bile creeping up his throat and Atsumu can’t do a single thing but turn and flee.

Alone in his hotel room and not nearly drunk enough, he falls into a fitful sleep, the image of your face, tear stricken and beautiful as you fell to pieces on Hinata’s fingers, burned into the back of his eyelids. 

—

He doesn’t utter a word about it when Boktuo gives him shit for ducking out early the next day at training. He doesn’t so much as meet Hinata’s eye, though the redhead seems no different than usual, all but bouncing on his heels when the Coach runs through the game against the Adlers set by set.

He still gushes when Atsumu gives him a perfect set, beaming up at him with that thousand watt smile. He still offers to be paired off with him when they run two-on-two games, isn’t ruffled when Atsumu instead grabs Sakusa and goes up against Adriah and Barnes.

And you’re still sitting in the stands, fingers twined on your lap, smiling dutifully whenever your boyfriend glances up.

Atsumu tries his best to ignore you and focus on training. He can’t afford to let you distract him any more than you already have, but in the quiet moments between sets, on their breaks, every second he’s not thinking about the game and his performance and his team his thoughts drift back to you. The way you’d bitten down on your bottom lip. Your eyes, pupils blown wide as pleasure crashed through you. Your glistening cunt, swallowing up Hinata’s fingers. The cute little noises you made – the ones he couldn’t hear but spent all fucking night imagining.

And the moment those thoughts enter his head, he can’t stop himself from darting a quick glance towards you, like he’s making sure you’re still there, that you’re okay. Even if you stiffen almost imperceptibly every time he does.

He can’t help himself, and he’s not the only one who notices. 

“Dude, you good?” Bokuto asks, pulling him aside a week or so later during one of their water breaks. And for a second there, there’s a flicker of indignation – whatever’s going on with his head, his performance is beyond question; he’s killing it. 

It’s not until the wing spiker’s attention shifts, risking a glance over his shoulder to where he knows you’re sitting that he realises that’s not what Bokkun’s worried about.

“Look, I get it, she’s cute and all, but…” Bokuto trails off, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. Every ounce of discomfort is written clear as day across his face. “You might wanna tone it down a bit, you know? For everyone’s sake.”

The irony of it all doesn’t escape him. And he probably should feel some kinda shame, because if Bokuto’s noticed then that means every goddamn one of the others has too and they’re all just too uncomfortable to say anything, but he can’t seem to muster it. 

“Yeah,” he croaks out instead.

Two days later he’s halfway through a shower when the stall beside his bursts open and he hears that familiar, sunny laugh, the sound of two bodies clambering into a space too small, and his heart stutters in his chest.

“Sho, no. I-I don’t wanna–”

“Shh, be good for me, alright baby? Please?” 

A drawn out hiss followed by a breathy moan, and Atsumu’s bracing himself against the tiled wall squeezing his eyes shut.

The spray of the shower isn’t loud enough to drown out the sounds of you swallowing down Hinata’s cock. And he can’t move, can’t make a sound for fear of making this worse, but with every lewd, messy gluck from your throat, every obnoxious moan that spills from his teammate’s lips, Atsumu feels that telltale stirring in his gut.

His eyes are closed and the image comes unbidden to his mind.

You on your knees, looking up at him with those big, wide innocent eyes. You, pressing soft, teasing kisses to his cock, your tongue slowly trailing along the thick vein that runs along the underside of his shaft. The way it’d swirl around his flushed head, eagerly lapping at his precum. Fuck, his cock’s already throbbing, aching. 

He’s only human, he thinks as he wraps a hand around his member, teeth sinking into the flesh of his forearm to stifle his groan. You’re making a mess of him, he wants it so fucking bad. Wants you; to fuck you, have you, hold you, he doesn’t give a shit anymore, you’re driving him to the brink and he’s helpless to stop this.

He can see it so perfectly in his head, how you’d look with those soft lips wrapped around him, the way you’d massage his balls as he fucked your face, how you’d choke on it. You’d be good, so fucking perfect as you sucked him off–

Hinata’s chanting your name and Atsumu picks up his pace, strokes turning into pumps, his fist tightening as he hisses with pleasure. Distantly he wonders whether they can hear it too; his heavy breathing, the slick, wet sound of him jerking off less than a foot away.

He doesn’t care anymore, can’t hold himself back. It’s blinding, the pleasure that rips through him, shaking him to his very core as spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum paints the shower walls.

His knees buckle, his cock still twitching as aftershocks jolt through him, stealing his breath. For a blissful moment, Atsumu lets himself sag against the tiles, a lazy smirk coating his face as he basks in the afterglow, his heartbeat slowly coming down from it’s racing high. 

And yet as the warm water of the shower cascades down his toned body, his breathing returning to normal something unpleasant begins to unfurl in his stomach, toxic and cloying, seeping through his veins. All that bliss, that heady, addictive pleasure fades away and Atsumu’s left with the weight of what he’s just done.

Distantly, he registers that it’s quieter now in the stall next to his. Hinata’s murmuring something to you, but Atsumu can’t make sense of it over the dull roar in his head, the disgust and shame that coils like a noose around his throat.

He should hate himself. 

He just might, actually.

And it’s not enough to scrub until his skin’s raw and he doesn’t feel it crawling anymore, doesn’t matter that he stays in the shower until the two of you leave, until the water runs ice cold and it physically hurts to stand under the spray.

Hinata’s still in the locker room when he gets out, slowly gathering the last of his things and shoving them into his duffle bag. For once you’re not by his side, and Atsumu can only thank whatever godly beings might be out there for this one, tiny mercy, because he doesn’t think he can bear to see you after what he’s just done.

But Hinata just smiles, bright and cheerful and all too knowing, “Seeya tomorrow, Atsumu!”

And he feels filthy all over again.

#dark haikyuu #dark hinata x reader #dark hinata shoyo x reader #dark atsumu x reader #dark atsumu miya x reader #tw non con #tw dub con #tw voyeurism #tw yandere #trying out some new tags #don't mind me

[aquaticrunner]

Modern Academic Rivals to Lovers | Edmund x Reader

Request by @generalblizzarddreamer : Hey love! I don't know if you're inspired to write Narnia right now but could I have academic rivals to lovers with Edmund Pevensie? Maybe Edmund could be a law student and the reader is a journalism major? Thanks so much if you do it! | Word count: 2.9K

A/N: I did not mean for this to come out so long but I loved the idea and just kinda ran with it. I hope you like it! I had a lot of fun writing it. I’m so sorry it took so long but I’m finally out of school so I’m catching up on all my requests.

I stood up from the small desk I was sitting at in the university library and stretched my arms up above my head. I’d been sitting at this desk for at least two hours and still felt like I hadn’t made much progress on my project. I decided to go searching for some more sources and scanned the section closest to me. A book title on the top shelf caught my eye and I reached my hand up to grab it. Just as my fingers brushed the spine of the book, another hand reached over and swiped it. “Hey!” I shouted, immediately cringing at the loudness of my voice in the quiet library. I looked over at the thief who had taken my book. The guy seemed familiar like maybe we’d had a few classes together. He had dark, curly hair that had grown past his ears and an easy smile that probably made most people melt. 

“Hey yourself.” He said, chuckling as he started to walk away. I bit the side of my cheek in frustration and made the impulsive decision to follow him. “Excuse me, but I need that book.”

He stopped walking and smirked at me. Despite how attractive this boy was, it infuriated me. “Well, so do I.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I saw it first and there’s only one copy.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “You saw it first? What is this, primary school?”

“Seriously? Just give me the book.”

I could see the smile in his eyes as he just looked at me and said, “No.” Then he turned around and walked away again.

I decided not to follow him this time and walked back to my desk, fuming the whole way there. He was the most arrogant and obnoxious guy I’d ever met and I didn’t even know his name. I tried to focus on my project again but gave up after about 30 minutes. I packed up my stuff and walked back to my dorm. When I made it back, I checked the time on my phone. It was only 8:15. Too early to go to sleep. I scrolled through the contacts on my phone until I saw my best friend’s name. I pressed the call button and put the phone to my ear. She answered after the first ring and asked what was up. “Do you wanna go out?”

I woke up the next morning with a slight headache and my mouth dry. I picked up the water bottle that I keep beside my bed but it was empty. I sighed and stood up. I ventured into my small kitchen area and filled up the bottle in the sink. As I drank the water, my mind drifted back to last night. My friend, Valerie, and I had gone to a small club and stayed out till about midnight. I had pretty much gotten over my encounter with that guy at the library. I looked at the clock at the wall and cursed when I realized that it was almost 7:30. I only had 15 minutes to get ready for my morning class. I threw on some jeans and a t-shirt and brushed my teeth. I rushed out the door, barely checking to see if I had the right notebook. I walked as fast as I could to the humanities building and breathed a sigh of relief when I made it with 3 minutes to spare. I took a seat in the front row where I always did and smiled at the boy that always sits next to me. I opened my backpack and grabbed my notebook, thankful that it was the right one. I opened the notebook to a blank page and sat a pencil next to it. I was waiting for the professor to walk in when someone else caught my eye. It was the boy from the library! So we do have a class together, I thought. I waited for him to see me but his eyes stayed focused on his path and he sat down in the middle row. I turned my head quickly in case he saw me looking at him. 

The professor walked in a minute later and I tried to refocus my mind on what he was teaching. This class was already boring to me. I knew that research and writing were important, but this class felt almost too basic. As the professor talked my mind drifted to the boy sitting behind me. I wondered if he had noticed me yet, if he was as bored as I was, or if he was paying attention and didn’t notice me at all. 

“Does anyone know the answer?” I was snapped out of my thoughts when the professor addressed the class and averted my eyes, hoping he wouldn’t call on me. “Anyone at all?”

“A research question is focused, complex, and arguable.” My eyes widened when I realized it was the boy from last night.

“Yes that is correct, Mr… ?”

“Pevensie, sir. Edmund Pevensie.”

The professor nodded and went back to lecturing. My eyes stayed glued to the boy, Edmund. His eyes snapped to mine and heat immediately rushed to my cheeks and I turned back to my notebook. Now he’s going to think I’m obsessed with him.

When the professor dismissed class after what felt like forever, I threw my stuff in my bag and rushed out of my seat. I made it out the door and thought I was clear and my path was blocked. “Excuse me.” I said, trying to get past.

“Avoiding someone?” His voice burned into my soul and I jumped back.

“No. I just have somewhere to be.” My eyes drifted up his chest as I leaned up to meet his eyes.

The corner of his mouth ticked up and he narrowed his eyes at me. “Right. I’m Edmund by the way. Figured I should introduce myself after you called me a thief.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are a thief. And I heard your name. Everyone in class did.”

This time, he smiled completely. “So…?”

I looked at him, unsure of what he was wanting. “So what?”

He stared at me blankly as if he was trying to figure out if I really didn’t know or if I was messing with him. “Your name?”

“Oh. It’s Y/N.” I don’t know why it surprised me that he wanted my name. Was he trying to be friends or something?

“Well, it was nice to meet you Y/N.” And with that he turned and walked away. Why is he always doing that?

I rolled my eyes as he left and walked back to my dorm, throwing my bag down in the living room. My roommate, Elle, walked out and raised her eyebrows at me. “Someone’s in a foul mood.”

“I am not!” I shouted defensively. She just looked at me and my shoulders sagged in defeat. “Fine. I met this guy and he’s a total jerk.”

Her eyes lit up immediately. “You met a guy?”

“Seriously? That was not the important part of that sentence.”

She laughed. “Well I can’t remember the last time you said the words “met a guy.”” She said, using air quotes around my words. 

I sighed and walked into my room, looking over my schedule for the day. I had one more class and a club meeting later that day. 

“Hey would you wanna grab lunch before my next class?” I asked her, walking back into the living room.

She shrugged, “Sure. I have nothing better to do.”

We ate in the campus cafeteria and I went to my corporate communication class. Now I was on my way to one of the meeting rooms on campus for a debate club meeting. It was my first time joining a club and I was definitely nervous. 

I walked up the stairs of the building and into the room that was on the announcement. A tall girl greeted me at the door with a large smile. “Hi! Are you here to join the debate team?” Her enthusiasm was almost scary but I smiled back and nodded as she handed me an instruction packet. “Great! Feel free to sit anywhere.” I thanked her and took a seat near the middle. Normally I liked to sit in the front but I was a little too nervous tonight.

I looked around for anyone I might know and noticed a familiar boy with dark, curly hair. You have to be kidding me. Ever since our interaction at the library Edmund seemed to be everywhere I was.

He was busy talking to a group of kids at the back of the room. He caught my eye and waved at me with a smirk on his face. I clenched my jaw and turned back around, facing the front of the room.

The girl who greeted me when I walked in had now moved to stand behind a small podium. She cleared her throat to catch everyone’s attention and I sat up a little straighter in my chair. She spent the next hour describing what the debate club was like, our meeting schedule, and how often we attend competitions. “Now there is a sign-up sheet being passed around. Please write your name and phone number on the sheet.” She handed the clipboard with the sheet on it to the boy on my left and he handed it to me when he was done. I wrote what she instructed and passed it to my right, not paying attention to who was beside me. Once everyone was done she announced that the meeting was over and we would receive a message for our next meeting time. I sighed and stood following the small crowd out the door.

“Hey Y/N!” I looked to see who was calling my name and of course it was Edmund. 

I kept walking, pretending I hadn’t heard him, but he caught up to me almost immediately. “Hey, I didn’t know you were interested in debate.”

I shrugged, “Well you don’t really know that much about me at all.”

He put his hand over his heart in mock hurt. “Ouch. You wound me.”

I smiled condescendingly. “I try.”

“You don’t like me, do you?” He asked.

“I don’t have any feelings toward you.” I said in response.

“Riiight. Is this about the book?” 

I sighed. “No. I don’t care about some stupid book. Look, it's late and I have to go. Bye.”

I walked away from him and headed back to my dorm for the night, trying to concentrate on my project. 

The rest of the week went by quickly with limited interactions between Edmund and me. Finally, it was Friday and I was ready to take a break. However, before I did that I needed to buckle down and finish the project that I had been procrastinating. I packed my stuff up and drove to the library. I spent hours there and by the time I finished, it was dark outside. I packed my stuff up and stopped by the vending machine on my way out. I reached the doors and pushed, but was surprised when they didn’t open. I pushed again and started to get nervous when they still didn’t open. Maybe there’s another exit. I walked away from the doors and searched the perimeter of the library looking for another set of doors. When I didn’t find any, I walked to the center of the library where the help desk was located. “Hello?” I said, hoping someone would answer me.

I heard a voice from behind me, “Please don’t tell me we’re locked in here.” I cringed, knowing who it was going to be before I even turned around.

I slowly turned to face him. “It’s starting to look that way.”

“Do you have your phone?” He asked me.

“No. I leave it in my car when I’m studying. Don’t you have one?” I asked, crossing my arms defensively.

He waved it in front of me, looking annoyed. “It’s dead.”

I wanted to bang my head against a wall. “Great,” I said sarcastically. 

“Maybe we can use the library phone?” He suggested and I nodded, walking around to the other side of the desk.

I picked it up and attempted to dial a number. Instead of hearing the phone ringing, all I heard was constant beeping. I groaned when I read the inscription at the bottom of the phone. 

Edmund leaned over. “What is it?”

“This phone only connects to other phones in the building. No one else is going to be here at this hour.”

“Well, guess we better make ourselves comfortable.” He took a seat on one of the couches and propped his feet up on a nearby table.

I took a deep breath and sat down in a chair across from the couch. 

He stared at me from across the table and I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. “Why are you looking at me?” I finally asked.

He shrugged. “I’m trying to figure out why you don’t like me.”

“By staring at me?”

Edmund laughed and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease just a bit.

“So are you going to tell me or not?” He asked me.

I bit my lip nervously. This is going to be a long night. “I never said I didn’t like you.”

“So you’re acting like this because you do like me.”

“No!”

“So you’re rude to everyone?”

“I am not rude! I don’t dislike you. I just have no interest in talking to you.” I finally said.

“Why not? I’m hilarious.” 

I snorted in response. “I doubt that.”

“You’re judging me based on one interaction. That hardly seems fair.” He said. I looked away, not wanting to admit that he might be right.

“Well it was one rude interaction. First impressions matter.” I said in my defense.

“Okay, well I’m sorry I took the book you wanted. I needed it for a project.”

“So did I.”

He laughed, but it sounded dry. “Whatever.”

I bit my lip, guilt starting to settle in my stomach. Maybe I had judged him too harshly.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have judged you so fast. Maybe we could be friends?” I asked.

He half-smiled and I felt slightly relieved. “We can be friends.”

I smiled at him for what felt like the first time and he smiled back.

“Let’s play twenty questions.” He said, sitting up suddenly.

“What?”

“Twenty questions. I ask you a question and then you ask me one.” 

I curled my hair around my finger nervously. “I don’t know…”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. You can ask me first.”

I sighed, knowing there was nothing else to do anyway. “Fine. What’s your major?”

Edmund laughed. “Okay, starting off easy. I’m pre-law. What’s yours?”

“Journalism.” He nodded, and I sat for a moment, thinking of my next question. “What’s your family like?”

Edmund smiled and his fondness for them was written clearly all over his face. “I have two sisters and a brother. Lucy and I are the youngest and then Susan and Peter. We’re all really close. I don’t get to see them as often as I like but we text all the time.”

I smiled, surprised at such a genuine response. He cleared his throat and then asked his next question. “What’s your favorite food?”

I laughed and tried to think of a genuine answer. “Pizza. Yours?”

Edmund thought for a moment. “I love anything sweet. Why are you majoring in journalism?”

“Well… I’d like to have an impact on the world. I like discovering the truth and telling real stories. Why do you want to be a lawyer?”

“To defend those who can’t defend themselves, obviously.” He said, jokingly.

I laughed again and thought of my next question. Edmund and I spent the rest of the night talking and laughing. I had seriously misjudged him. He was actually very pleasant to be around. Eventually, we fell asleep and when the librarian woke us up the next morning I was embarrassed to find that Edmund and I had moved together in our sleep. The librarian apologized profusely for not checking before she locked up and then Edmund and I were on our way out of the library.

He walked me to my car and I grabbed his arm before he turned to leave. “Thank you.”

He looked at me curiously. “For what?”

“For making last night a little better. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d been locked in by myself.” In a moment of bravery, I leaned forward and hugged him.

Edmund hugged back and I could feel the warmth radiating off of him and his heart beating in his chest.

I leaned back slowly and Edmund kept his arms around me.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?” He asked.

I nodded and Edmund leaned forward, immediately capturing my lips with his. The kiss was passionate and I could’ve sworn I saw literal sparks. I wasn’t sure how long it lasted but I was sure it wasn’t long enough. He leaned his forehead against mine and I smiled at the closeness.

“Do you want to go out tonight?” He asked me.

“I would love to.”

He kissed me on the cheek then began to walk back to his car. 

“Hey Edmund!” I called. He turned back to face me. “Thanks for stealing my book.” A smile broke out on his gorgeous face and I couldn’t help but smile back. “Anytime.”

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie edit #edmund pevensie fanfic #narnia #chronicles of narnia #narnia edit #narnian #narnia edmund #edmund pevensie x reader #narnia x reader #x reader #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie imagine #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie #modern edmund pevensie #modern narnia #narnia au

[priortoallthoughts]

Don’t Mess With the Commander’s Caf

(or do, because it’s gotten you this far)

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairing: Commander Fox x afab!reader

Warnings: Mild swearing; gets a bit spicy at the end but nothing explicit.

Summary: What is supposed to be a night out at 79s turns into a night in the drunk tank, and the morning starts a startling new relationship with a certain Coruscant Guard Commander. All over a cup of caf.

// [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

Masterlist

A night out in Coruscant is never complete for you without going to the clone bar, 79s. You may pre-game somewhere else, but you always end up there, recognizable as one of their regulars. You love the atmosphere, honestly. It’s so jovial, just vode – and weren’t you surprised when you found out that clones spoke a different language with each other – coming to forget the war for a night. Living life as much as they could. You’ve picked up a few words of theirs purely because you hear them so often. Many a curse word too, which are your favorites.

And they were about to be put to good use.

You’re already buzzed and walking with a group of grey-clad troopers that had pulled you into their group when they saw you walking alone. You chat easily with them even though you never met them before. That’s the funny thing about being sociable when you’re sober – you’re even more chatty when you drink. And giggly apparently, considering you couldn’t stop laughing at the mission gone wonky they were telling you about.

When 79s came into view your smile widens. There really is nothing like the neon lights and bass you can already hear resonating from inside. Were there probably millions of places just like in on Coruscant already? Sure. But there isn’t anywhere aside from 79s you could find this kind of ambiance.

There is one downside that pisses you off like no other though.

There’s yelling coming from over by the speeder-way and when you look over, another civilian is getting in the face of a Coruscant guard member. The frown the graces your face feels wrong after laughing so much, but you can’t help it. You pause in your tracks. Usually when you see this kinda shit it deescalates fairly quickly, but this civilian is getting louder and more violent the more the (admittedly nervous acting) guard tried to calm him down.

“Hey.” A hand lands on your shoulder and you look up to see one of your group. “We can’t do anything. The punishment would be too harsh and that civvie chakaar won’t even get a slap on the wrist.”

Your frown turns into a snarl. “You can’t do anything.”

Fishing your flask out of your jacket pocket you take a swig before shoving it into the chest of the closest trooper. The steady click of your heels is the only thing you can hear over the growing volume of yelling.

“Hey! Shabuir in the stupid shirt!” Your own yell interrupts.

You have exactly one second to reconsider things before you think about all the vitriol this jackass is spewing at the guard for nothing. The sound of your fist hitting his face is the most satisfying thing you’ve heard tonight, along with the yelp he lets out when he hits the ground.

“What the kriff is your problem, bitch?!”

“You talking shit about this trooper is my problem!”

He turns towards the guard again and the trooper flinches. “I want her arrested for battery!”

You lean down to grab his collar and shake him out. “Oh, so now you want him to do his job? The one you were just belittling him for? Can’t have it both ways, chakaar!”

“Let go of me!”

You drop him so suddenly that his head cracks against the ground. He scrambles to his feet and points a finger at you. “You’ll regret this! They’re nothing but meat-droids!”

“Say that again, you little pissant. I dare you.” You go to take a step forward but he’s already running away. A hand on your shoulder again makes you look over to the one you defended.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” And he does sound sorry. “I will have to take you in tonight. I… can’t ignore you attacking someone right in front of me.”

You smile at him. “No problem, trooper. Do your job; I don’t want you getting in trouble.” You offer your wrists to him and next thing you know they’re in a pair of binders behind your back and you’re being placed in the back of a speeder.

“A night in the drunk tank should sort you out.”

The smile you give him is blinding, because not only do you know that’s not the proper booking for what you just did, at least you look cute while you’re being taken away.

---

When you wake up in your cell (lucky you’re the only one there) you’re beyond tired and in desperate need of some caf. You can’t function without it in the morning.

There’s a guard member who lets you out not long after you get up. You follow him like a zombie. Presumably he’s leading you out of all the twisting hallways, but you stop short when your nose picks up the distinct smell of caf.

But not just any caf. You know the smell of Death Wish anywhere.

Your favorite.

You follow your nose to a mess hall – sparsely populated but still enough that everyone stops what they’re doing to look at you as you make your way to the caf machines in the back. You’re basically falling asleep as you walk so you don’t notice. Maybe you should care, considering you’re still wearing your clubbing outfit from last night, but no, you don’t actually care.

When you get there you see two different machines. One is labeled with some cheap, generic caf name and the other is simply “Fox’s Starfighter Fuel.”

You grab a flimsi cup and fill it with the second one. No cream. No sugar.

No life, only caf.

You finally notice how deathly quite it is as you take your first sip and turn around. There’s one trooper standing in front of you, helmet tucked under his arm, and the most severe look you’ve ever seen before gracing his features. You look him over with half-lidded eyes, noticing he’s dressed differently than the others, and casually take another sip of caf.

“You must be Fox.”

“Civilians aren’t allowed in this part of the building, who let you in here?”

Still waiting for the caf to kick in, you shrug. “Spent the night in the tank. No one stopped me when I walked in.”

Fox turns to glare at everyone sitting at the tables. They all look down at their food like they weren’t obviously watching and someone starts whistling.

“You need to leave,” he says when he turns back around.

“Can I finish my caf first?” You ask, taking more sips hoping to stall.

He glowers even more. “That’s not even your caf!”

“Shame.” You chug the rest of the still mostly full cup and coughs wrack your chest when you finish. “I think I just burned my esophagus,” you rasp.

“Get out.”

“That’s completely fair.”

You toss your cup in the trash on the way out. Turning the way you were going before you got distracted, you make your way to the exit; no need to bring the wrath of Fox down on you for sticking around. You feel like, once again, you get off light and dont’t want to press your luck. The smile that graces your face as you step outside is probably a strange thing for anyone else to see considering you’re walking out of jail, but you had a good night, and the morning is shaping up to follow suit.

---

The next day you walk into the caf shop you normally stop at on the way to work. The barista behind the counter waves as you walk up. “Your usual, hun?”

“You know me,” you smile brightly, “but, uh, can you make it two?”

Her eyes widen. “I can’t imagine the morning you’re expecting to have!”

You laugh and wave her off. “Nothing bad. I owe someone a cup.”

“You mean someone else drinks this sludge?”

“Imagine my surprise. And it’s not that bad!”

She places two large flimsi cups in front of you. Your hands rub together nervously before you get your thoughts together. “Can I borrow your marker?”

She hands it to you with a raised eyebrow and you quickly scribble a few words on one of the cups. It isn’t a lot, and it completely gives away who you are without having to sign your name, so you hope it’s okay.

“Thanks, gotta run!” You scurry out of the door before the barista can ask anything about what you’re doing.

You aren’t even sure yourself if you were being completely honest. The Coruscant Guard building is a little out of your way from your route to work, but you leave early in the mornings anyway, so you can still make it in time even with the detour. You feel a bit nervous walking in this time. Where did all your confidence from yesterday go?

You flag down the first trooper you see that doesn’t look busy.

“Can you give this to Fox, please?” You hold out the cup for him to take.

He doesn’t.

He only stands there, and you imagine he’s making a face behind his helmet because he doesn’t say anything either.

After a few seconds of silence you lower the cup awkwardly. “Uhh, oh, sorry, am I allowed to bring caf?”

“Why are you bringing the Commander caf?” He finally asks.

You squeeze the cups so much the tops almost pops off. “Fox is a commander?”

“Commander Fox is head of the Coruscant Guard, ma’am.”

The top of your own cup does pop off this time, but nothing spills.

“The entire guard?” You squeak.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Heat is quick to crawl up your face. “Oh stars, I can’t believe I took his caf.” Your internal panic is quickly becoming external as you try not to drop either cup. You hid your face behind one in embarrassment.

“Wait.” The guard member tilts his head. “You’re the one they were talking about yesterday? The girl from the mess hall?”

There’s a few second where nothing but incomprehensible noises come out of your mouth, but you finally get out, “how many people know about that?!”

“It’s made its way around.”

“I’m gonna - kriff - go throw myself off the senate building I swear-“

You’re cut off by the sound of a chuckle and you snap your head up to see the guard member’s shoulders shaking. “So you’re not trying to poison the Commander, huh?”

“No!” You yelp, but quiet down after you see others turn to look at you. “I was just trying to repay the caf I drank! We like the same kind!”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Can you please just give this to him before I die of embarrassment? You’re killing me here!”

He laughs again and finally takes the cup from your shaking hands. “Who should I say it’s from?”

You slap a hand over your face to hide your grimace. “At this point I’d rather not tell you. I want to keep some of my dignity intact,” you mutter.

“Nobody’s dignity is intact here, ma’am.”

“Oh… joy.”

“You best be on your way then.”

He is giving you an out and you’re taking it in full.

“Have a good day,” you say as you turn, the only proof you’ve been there being one guard member and a note on a flimsi cup.

“Sorry for taking your caf yesterday.”

---

One week later you find yourself standing outside of the caf shop, once again with two cups in hand through no fault of your own. It makes you think that maybe another trip to the Coruscant Guard building wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Why waste a perfectly good drink after all?

You pause immediately when you step through the door, because the man you’re looking for is standing across the room talking to someone with a datapad in hand. The decision on whether to interrupt is made for you when the person he’s talking to looks over and spots you.

He waves and Fox finally looks over as well, tilting his head as he does so. You take a deep breath before walking over to them.

“Caf girl!”

You raised your eyebrow at the other trooper. “I really am known around here for that, aren’t I?” You say as you stop in front of them. You have a sneaking suspicion that he is the same one you talked to last week.

“Well you never gave me your name,” he shrugs.

Yeah, it’s him.

Your head snaps to Fox, however, when he addresses you.

“You know my name?”

“Your information was processed and put into the system when you spent the night in the tank.”

“Osik,” you mutter.

“Did you need something?” He asks.

You perk up some, and hold out the second drink in your hand. “Right, there was a mixup at the caf shop, and I got an extra drink. I thought you might like it.”

He takes it carefully, but your bare fingers still brush against his gloved ones. They tingle when you pull away, and while the heat on your palm from holding the hot cup fades, the heat in your fingertips does not. You have the sudden urge to find out what holding his hand feels like, but you push that thought down along with the blush you can feel rising. Now isn’t the time. You have to get to work. Maybe if you come by earlier next time….. would there be a next time?

“Thank you. I… appreciate the thought.” You think you hear him trip over his words, but there’s no way.

You smile brightly at him. “You’re welcome!” You check the time on your chrono. “Looks like I gotta bounce. Enjoy your caf, Commander!”

Your retreat is quick, but hells if you don’t add a little extra sway to your hips as you walk out the doors.

And scribbled on the cup now in Fox’s hand is:

“I know day old caf when I taste it. Fresh is better.”

---

You start to bring Fox caf every week.

“This has become part of my routine, so I hope you don’t mind.”

Every week turns into every few days.

“Your filing system is horrifying but at least your chair is comfy.”

Every few days turns into every day.

“Tell Thorn that if he sees me at 79s tonight, he can’t arrest me just so I’ll hang out with him.”

And leaving early just to see Fox is the best part of your day no matter what. You hope you’re not the only one who feels like this. That maybe as you walk to the Guard building in the morning, you’re not the only one smiling and counting down the minutes until you get to Fox’s office. He never turns you away, and he’s always there to take the extra caf from your hands if he can be. Sometimes you have to leave it on his desk if he’s not in, but you understand that his job isn’t easy by any stretch of the word.

He is in this morning, however, seeing as the door opens promptly at your knock. He sits behind his desk, a few data pads already stacked next to him and a frown marring his face. That won’t do.

“Credit for your thoughts?” You say as you set his caf down next to his helmet and lean against his desk.

Fox looks up and gives you a tired smile, unaware of how it makes your stomach flutter. “Shaping up to be a long day.”

“Giving yourself more grey hairs already?” You say, giving a pointed look to his already greying sides.

“Like I need any more,” he huffs.

“I dunno,” you reach up and run your fingers lightly through his short curls, “I think they make you look distinguished.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t know he had been holding. “At least one of us thinks so.”

“It’s okay, I can like it enough for the both of us.”

“Should I count myself lucky then?” He smirks, finally taking a sip of his caf and sighing contently into the cup.

You give him a cheeky grin. “You should.”

He looks at you then, not saying anything, and you can’t help the flush you feel crawling up your face. You swear, you had never blushed so much around anyone before you met him. You distract yourself by drinking your own caf, the liquid welcome to your suddenly dry mouth.

“I do.”

“What?” Your head snaps back up to him and he’s still looking at you, but not in a way you’ve seen before.

“I do count myself lucky.”

You look away shyly, a small smile forming at the corners of your mouth. Sure, you two have been lightly flirting with each other, or at at least you’re definitely flirting with him, but this is the most straight-forward thing he’s ever said to you.

“It’s a good thing I got myself arrested that night then, isn’t it?”

It’s uncharted territory, where this conversation is heading. The thought of what it could be sits low in your belly and causes you to let out a shakey breath.

“It’s quite the holovid to watch,” he says offhandedly.

You’re lucky you aren’t drinking your caf, otherwise you would have spit it everywhere. You turn your head so hard you think you give yourself whiplash, mouth agape, looking at him in wide-eyed mortification.

“There’s a holo of that?!” The pitch of your voice would be embarrassing if you weren’t in the middle of spontaneously combusting on the inside.

He nods empathetically, which is shit because you know for damn sure he’s not empathetic about it; he’s having too much fun with this. You know he is, with that stupid, heart-stopping smirk playing on his face.

“Our HUDs record each incident for our files to make sure everything matches up with the reports.”

“Nooooooooooooo,” you whine quietly into your hands that now cover your face. You hear him get up and move to stand in front of you, but you don’t react. Mainly because you have no idea what he’s doing, but also he’s so kriffing close you can barely handle it.

His pries your hands from your face and presses them to his desk, effectively caging you in. He’s even closer now, and you’re hyper aware of how hard your heart is pounding even though you stop breathing. It’s the last thing from threatening, but you’re still frozen.

He leans in so his mouth is right next to your ear. “You look good in that little red dress of yours,” he whispers, his voice octaves lower than before. “Especially when you’re beating the kark out of a civvie – standing up for my vod.” It sends a pleasurable shiver down your spine and straight to your ovaries.

You suck in a breath when he pulls away. This is much more than you could have expected. “You’re not giving me much incentive to not be arrested again,” you tilt your head, “now that I know you’d be watching.”

“Always watching you, cyare.”

You hum, pulling one hand away from his to run up his armor and trace lightly over his jaw. “Gonna have to try harder to get a pair of binders on me next time, then.”

“Would you run?”

“Only if you’re the one chasing me.”

You move your hand from his jaw to the back of his neck and scratch lightly, feeling more than seeing him shiver under your fingertips.

“I’d find you.”

“Oh, I’d be counting on it, Commander.”

It’s a mutual surge that leads you two to lean in, culminating in the most charged kiss you’ve ever received. You throw your other hand around his neck, holding him as close as you can, while his hands latch onto your hips, pulling you up and into his embrace. He leads you back until he’s sitting in his chair and the next thing you know you’re falling into his lap to straddle him. You break for air, and to process that yes, this is happening, before you’re kissing again. A little slower; a little deeper.

You moan quietly into his mouth, and his hands move to your ass so he can pull you even closer.

There’s a chime from your chrono and you pull away, panting.

Fox’s eyes are dark and hungry when he looks at you. “You have to go soon.”

You nod, not breaking eye contact, and not moving either.

He grins, and it looks absolutely predatory. He slides the top of your blouse down slowly, just enough for his mouth to latch on to you right above your collarbone. You let out another breathy moan, and his teeth graze your skin in response as he sucks harder. His tongue soothes the area over when he lets go, and he looks at the quickly darkening spot with what you can only assume is possessive pride.

“For you to remember,” he says huskily.

Knowing he’s just staked his claim on you stokes the fire inside you even more. You give him your own feral grin, and pull down the collar of his blacks as he stiffens. “Who am I to allow you to forget, then?”

You suck hard at the column of his throat, higher than he did on you, knowing it would still be covered. You taste the sweat that had been building up, and his skin which you can’t even describe except that it tastes like him.

He groans lowly into your ear and you shiver when you pull away. You drag your nail lightly over the dark bruise in satisfaction before pulling his collar back up.

You slide off his armored thighs slowly. He follows you to stand, and gives you one last, long, kiss.

“Until next time, cyare.”

When you leave his office, you wish you had written something more on his cup than a crudely drawn fox with a smiley face next to it. Tomorrow though, you wonder what you can get away with saying.

“Next time I’m wearing that little red dress, feel free to search me. Who knows what I could be hiding.”

#prior writes #star wars #swtcw #clone wars #the clone wars #commander fox #cc 1010 #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #afab!reader #coruscant guard #writing #fanfic

[ahtsumu]

目送 ; oikawa tooru

「alt. title: five times oikawa didn’t look back and the one time he did」

↳ pairing: oikawa tooru x f!reader

↳ synopsis: you spend a lifetime watching him go, sometimes with your stomach tied in knots, sometimes with tears in your eyes, but always with love.

↳ genre(s): angst, fluff, basically an emotional rollercoaster, non-linear storyline

↳ warning(s): profanity, depiction of a panic attack, suggestive themes

↳ length: 5.4k words

↳ a/n: hq fam how we doing after 402 ?? LOL anyway this is my birthday gift to oikawa tooru: my sun, moon, and stars, second to none, yadda yadda. the title is taken from a book with the same name, in case you were wondering. please pay attention to the roman numerals ahead of each section!! enjoy!

v.

“This is the last call for Japan Airlines flight 717 to Buenos Aires, now boarding at gate number twelve. This is the last call…”

Goodbyes are hard when you know they’re forever. Or at least a while.

The clamour of Haneda airport dims to a faint buzz as the two of you continue standing with touching shoulders–– facing the jetliner instead of each other–– in futile hopes of delaying the inevitable.

Oikawa knows that you’re holding in your tears by the light tremors running through your body. Permitting himself to steal a look at your side profile, he notices the familiar tensing of your jaw and hard-set look in your red-rimmed eyes.

Tch. You said you wouldn’t cry.

Impulsively, he unzips his backpack and pulls out a familiar turquoise banner. It feels like just yesterday the team handed him the silk fabric with everyone’s farewell gifts wrapped inside.

Out-of-sequence memories of the Spring High qualifiers flash through your mind. The orange-haired Karasuno player’s spike ricochets off Oikawa’s forearms. The numbers on both sides of the scoreboard slowly inch up like they’re taking turns. Oikawa’s white knuckles against the metal basin. Red eyes. Heaving chest. Something soft against your skin. Rule the Court.

And just like the last time, he gently drapes it over your shoulders, brushing his fingers against your neck as he does so. God, how he wants to kiss you.

“But it’s yours,” you protest weakly, making no move to give it back.

“It won’t be for a while.” His voice cracks when he speaks. But it will be mine again when I come back for it.

He wants to kiss you. One last time.

He wants your mouth against his like absolution to a sinner because he knows that what he’s done to you, what he’s doing to you right now, is comparable to desecration. But he remembers the look on your face that night he broke the news to you. How your megawatt grin caved into a wince when the length of his contract with Club Athletico San Juan finally registered in your mind.

You swallow your feelings of betrayal. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Five years is an awfully long time to be apart,” you say after a while.

Oikawa bites his lip. He doesn’t have the heart to say that five was just the starting number. If he does well there, he’ll probably stay longer. He’ll probably do well there. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

Seconds drag into minutes. The cavity in his stomach festers as he waits for your response, but he has a feeling that he already knows your answer.

So instead, all he can do when your floodgates finally burst open is cup your face in his calloused palms and wipe away some of your tears before offering you his own watery smile.

Through your blurred vision, you watch as the boy in front of you steels his resolve and disappears from your life through the jet bridge, ignoring his heart as it begs for one last look over his shoulder.

Oikawa nods numbly when the old man sitting beside him asks if he’s leaving home for the first time. Home, he realises, isn’t anywhere with walls, isn’t an address, isn’t even a person. When someone says they want to go home, it’s not a space that they yearn for, but rather, a time.

He watches Japan grow smaller through the window and feels himself yearn for the time he still had your heart in his hands. It felt like he was holding the sun.

i.

You wouldn’t consider July 21st to be a special day. Nothing special happened earlier that morning when you woke up without your usual alarm. Nothing special happened when your friends texted you four simple words–– come to Azukihana beach!–– during breakfast. But (and this will come to you much, much later) something special happened when said friends left you to guard their things as they dashed to the supermarket for more snacks.

For now, it’s just July 21st, and you’re lying with your back against a towel on the first day of summer break, soaking in the sun, peacefully flipping through a book.

“DON’T FUCKING DO IT, YOU COLOSSAL PIECE OF SHIT!” The familiar voice tears through the beach. Was that Iwaizumi? You set the book down and sit up to check.

And suddenly, the yellow and blue volleyball that had been leisurely rolling your way halts perfectly before your toes. Behind it jogs a shirtless brunet you’ve definitely seen around school.

Oikawa Tooru stops right behind the runaway volleyball and peers at you through half-lidded eyes. “Sorry about that,” he says, flashing you a charming smile.

After casually picking up the ball with one hand, he flexes his abdominal muscles as he straightens back up. Chestnut irises attempt to discreetly sweep over your features but you catch his gaze in the act, quirking an unamused brow. You also catch the intrigued twitch of his lips that follow.

You’re not stupid. Despite having never met him, you know a lot about the Grand King (as many call him). He’s the constant subject of Iwaizumi’s ire and you’ve heard a lifetime’s complaints about him at joint-family luncheons.

But here’s what’s important: you know that he tears himself apart to be the player his team needs him to be, that he sometimes makes Iwaizumi wish he’d passed the Shiratorizawa entrance exam, and that he fiddles with hearts like origami and sets fire to those beautiful fragile trinkets right after.

And in the interest of self-defence (but against what the devil on your shoulder begs), you choose to not place your most prized possession on the table.

A simple “no worries” passes through your lips. You return to your book. A page turns.

Oikawa Tooru is dismissed.

Though your gaze is trained on the page, you can feel his presence at your feet for a few seconds longer. You wonder what his next move is. Much to your surprise, instead of trying to strike up another conversation, he simply lets out an airy hum and strolls back to the sand court where he came from without a second glance.

Iwaizumi wonders why Oikawa is smiling so victoriously after watching the whole ordeal, but your tan family friend has, unlike the calculating Grand King, failed to notice one important detail:

your book is upside down.

And, as if in a trance, your eyes have followed Oikawa all the way back to his sandy kingdom.

Once the sun has set, Iwaizumi checks his phone and notices a text he’d missed in the afternoon. It’s from Y/N. Unease digs itself in his chest when he realises it can’t possibly be for anything except…

hey what was that about?

This can’t be good. Thumbs rapidly typing a response, he races to quash any interest you may have budding in Oikawa. You… you’re good. Nice. Smart enough for UTokyo. A bit naive, but he’s been around your overbearing parents long enough to see it’s not entirely your fault. And even though you run in different circles at school, he feels obligated to protect you from monsters that hide beneath pretty surfaces. He’s known you since the two of you were in diapers.

just trash being what it is

Iwaizumi watches the three grey dots on your side appear, disappear, reappear, and disappear again. And that’s when he realises that he cannot help you. The villain in this arc of your story has already sunken his teeth in your tender, unsullied flesh.

trash?

He sighs.

oikawa

It isn’t a surprise to Iwaizumi when summer break ends and Oikawa’s chestnut eyes start hunting for someone in the cafeteria during lunch. He doesn’t raise a brow when he hears that the second-year captain has been sneaking into Class 7, sometimes with flowers in his hands, and strolling out with a dazed look on his face. He slaps his teammates out of shock when Oikawa mentions his troubles with pursuing some girl–– but not before slapping himself first. Because the Oikawa he knows is not a chaser.

“Her name’s Y/N,” the brunet says, suddenly realising that he has never introduced any of his temporary interests to the team. But it’s been well over two months and he’s starting to think he’s been friend-zoned. Or worse. “I think she hates me.” He laughs melodically, then cocks his head in contemplation. “Is it weird that I kinda like that?”

Iwaizumi hides a satisfied smile behind a sip of water. Oikawa’s revelation has cleared the unease your name brought to his chest. Just a little. Perhaps he’d misread you. You have a bite of your own.

iii.

It’s routine for Oikawa to slink into Class 7 with a dazzling grin during morning break, but he’ll sometimes show up with flowers instead just to remind you that his affections, along with his modus operandi–– haven’t changed since he first started visiting you in September.

The girls in your homeroom have grown used to seeing the six-foot-tall volleyball captain hovering around your desk like a butterfly. Most treat him as part of the scenery nowadays. To them, Oikawa Tooru is no longer the mysterious, out-of-reach deity the rest of the school still paints him to be.

So when he strolls into class on a chilly January afternoon with your name a tune on his lips, they leave him be. Recently, the ladies of Seijoh have focused their attentions on some fellow on the swim team, anyway. Oikawa doesn’t feel as upset as he thinks he should about his shrinking fan club, but when his gaze finds yours already steady, expectant, utterly adoring on him, he understands why.

“For the lady,” he says like he does every time. A cluster of yellow flowers wrapped in brown kraft paper plop onto your desk. He pulls a chair up to your side, purposely ignoring, again, how two certain grooves in the wooden floor keep growing deeper with his visits.

You remember the first time he started bringing you flowers.

A posy of pink flowers sits awkwardly on your desk, untouched.

“I tell you I’d rather take your serve to my face than attend the bunkasai with you and your response is to give me weeds?” you reply with your chin in the palm of your hands, amusement blossoming over your features.

“Stop being a tease, Y/N-chan, they’re flowers,” he huffs, crossing his arms on your desk. “And I know you want to take them. The florist even said I have immaculate taste.”

“Really? Then what do these mean?”

Oikawa falters.

“Hmm?”

“Pink camellias,” he finally says, carefully enunciating the flower's name, “means that you’re a fucking tease. And that you should come to the bunkasai with me.” You snort and tell him to quit volleyball and join comedy club, feeling a strange warmth in your chest when he laughs.

The two of you fall into the same rhythm as always, talking a little bit about this and that, throwing in witty remarks where they belong, never passing up the chance to make fun of each other’s little idiosyncrasies. He’s enraptured by the way you string words together to describe the story behind your class’s bunkasai performance and all the gears in your brain whirr when he explains the strategy he’s using against the team Seijoh’s playing later that day.

When the bell rings, he reluctantly drags his chair back to the desk he stole it from. Just before he slinks back out the door, though, you tell him with a stern gaze that the Ushiwaka from Shiratorizawa he just spent the break shit-talking doesn’t hold a candle to Seijoh’s Grand King.

It’s like you had just stepped under a new light. Oikawa pauses in front of the doorway, trying to decipher what it is that’s different about you. And suddenly, the roses in his cheeks are in full bloom. Delighted and puzzled at his own realisation, he turns around without a second glance your way and strides back to Class 5. Oh, man, he muses as he passes through the emptying corridor. Oh, man. Iwa-chan is going to love this.

Your phone buzzes later that evening.

seijoh v. shiratorizawa 1-2, the text reads, quickly followed by, GAH.

Your lips twitch, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. Tapping your fingers against your phone screen for a response that’ll cheer him up, you suddenly remember a phrase Oikawa said earlier that day. It drew a laugh from you when it came out his contorted face.  He was obviously still hung up over with the words of the opposing team’s ace. Hopefully, it makes him feel something else coming from you.

you should’ve come to shiratorizawa, you send, grinning.

His response is immediate.

l m f A O

what flowers would you like at your funeral?

And then you’re reminded of his petalled gift on your desk, now comfortably sitting in a glass vase at your bedside. Pink camellias, he said? Curious, you open your laptop and type in the name for its meaning.

Longing, you remember, watching your boyfriend chatter about something–– probably aliens–– animatedly. The yellow flowers on your desk, you realise, are ones you’ve never seen before.

“Oikawa, what’s the name of these?” you suddenly ask. He stops in the middle of his sentence (he was definitely talking about aliens, by the way), and grins smugly.

“Jonquils,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “spelt J-O-N-Q-U-I-L-S, means that your boyfriend’s going to colonise Mars one day. And if you’re lucky, you can be the first queen of Mars. How ‘bout that?”

It doesn’t mean what he says it does, by the way.

ii.

Splashes of pink and orange have already settled into the blue sky above when you step onto the rooftop of Seijoh’s humanities building. Despite the breeze that has swept through the air, the flame of curiosity in your stomach burns just enough for you to turn a cheek to the cold.

Come to the rooftop at 6 PM.

It’s 5:59. Impatient, you study the note in your hand again. Maybe you’ll be able to glean something from the laconic letter this time.

Much to your irritation, no one had seen the author of this note. They had expertly placed the unsigned card on your desk with a single rose and Hershey’s chocolate kiss on top during lunch. Elegantly scrawled, their seven words have had your brain running circles all day around their identity. Could it be…? No–– he seemed completely normal earlier today. Still, you can’t shake your suspicions. They borderline hope.

Who else…

You inhale the cool air deeply and lean back against the rooftop railing, eyes burning a hole into the metal entrance. The door swings open with a high-pitched groan. Your breath catches in your throat.

… if not him?

Time briefly stops when Oikawa Tooru steps through the entrance, still in his volleyball uniform, sweaty from practice, cheeks the same colour as the setting sun. There’s an unusually tentative look on his face, though it’s immediately wiped off and replaced with the realisation that this is real when he sees you slightly slack-jawed, blinking once, twice, three times before letting out a breath.

“You look surprised. Expecting someone else to confess today?” he asks, crossing his arms in front of his uniformed chest. Despite how his features are contorted by his poorly hidden jealousy, you can’t help but feel a flood of blood rush through your veins, lighting every inch of your skin on fire.

Because whether he knows it or not, Oikawa, the Grand King of the Court, prettiest boy in all of Miyagi, has skipped the table and placed his heart straight into your hands.

“Of course not,” you retort. “I just didn’t think you’d… well, do something like this.” And I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Iwaizumi’s words still find their way into your mind sometimes. I didn’t want origami made from my heartstrings.

Oikawa’s demeanour changes and his eyes dart away from your face. Shoving his hands into his windbreaker’s pockets, he admits, “I’ve honestly never done something like this before.” A faint blush spreads across his cheeks.

“Really? You’ve never stepped foot in the fourteenth shrine of Sendai?” you tease, referring to how Seijoh students have claimed this very rooftop as one of the God of Love’s many temples. You both know he holds the school record for the number of visits to this rooftop. At this rate, he could be one of its caretakers.

“That’s not what I meant,” he replies with a scowl, though the awkward tension between you two dissipates. And it feels like the two of you are back at your desk in Class 7, snickering uncontrollably while throwing playful jabs at each other. Sensing the change in atmosphere, Oikawa finally steps forward to join you by the railing.

Humming softly, he rests his elbows on the metal bar, props his head up with his hands, and sets his gaze on the lowering sun.

It’d be unfair to say that you didn’t at least try to enjoy the moment of peace with the boy beside you. But there’s a burning question on your mind that you can’t put off asking any longer.

“Why me?” you finally blurt out. “You could have any girl in this school. What made you choose me?”

The brunet whips his head around, disbelief written all over his face. “You think I chose to chase after the most annoying girl in all of Miyagi?” He laughs. “Ridiculous. I’d never willingly put myself through that unnecessary angst.”

You scoff and cross your arms.

“I think that when you like someone, it’s harder to explain why,” he quickly adds. “‘Cause it’s not supposed to make sense. I bet that the inability to explain your feelings is a prerequisite for true feelings, actually. It’s logical to say that you’d date Person A because they’re smart, or Person B because they’re hot, or Person C because they’re rich. But I’m pretty sure that that’s not… that’s not falling for someone. When you fall for someone… you just do. No logic required. You weren’t an option I ultimately settled on, Y/N. One day I just woke up and thought, if not you, then no one else.”

A beat passes. A flurry of words floods through your brain, only to evaporate when the devil on your shoulder decides that words aren’t quite adequate for what you want Oikawa to hear.

So instead, your feet take you one step closer into his space. Impulsively, your fingers find their way to his nape and your eyes flutter shut and suddenly–– suddenly, your parted lips brush against Oikawa’s. Instantly, he deepens the kiss, soft lips surging against yours like a pulse under pressure. You barely register his arms snaking around your waist, tighter and tighter until the space between your bodies is completely closed off.

Breathless, you finally detach your lips from his. Oikawa, who still has you encircled in his arms, pouts at the loss of contact, though he sulky façade only lasts a second before it gives way to a grin that stretches from ear to ear. He looks magnificent. Cheeks red, lips flushed, chest heaving, eyes wide with excitement. You want to kiss him again.

“One more.” It’s as if he read your mind. “To celebrate that last one.”

When Oikawa finally detaches himself from your lips, it’s to respond to the buzzing in his pocket. Noticing your raised brows, he explains that it’s an alarm for practice. The Spring High Prelims are just around the corner and he doesn’t plan on graduating without never having taken his team to Nationals.

“That’s my cue,” he states with a warm–– read: not apologetic–– smile. He doesn’t grab your hand or look imploringly into your eyes in hopes that you understand, never mind that you just shared your first kiss, never mind that you just became his girlfriend.

If Oikawa’s looking for any sign of your objection, he won’t find any. Instead, you step out of his space with an acquiescent nod. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Play well,” you say softly.

But before he heads for the creaky rooftop door, he presses one last kiss to your lips. And then he turns around, whistling as he goes, leaving you beaming behind his back with the light of a thousand suns.

iv.

When Matsukawa hands you the turquoise “Rule the Court” banner after the team lunch with a shit-eating grin on his face, the only resistance you offer is a resigned sigh.

“I’ve been dating Oikawa since we were second years,” you say flatly.

“Sorry, Y/N-san, but it’s the team’s hazing ritual,” he replies, not appearing sorry at all. “And you’re the only one who hasn’t done it.” He jerks his head at the blonde girl standing a little farther from the group with Hanamaki. “Emiko-san did it at the last game.”

“Plus, it’s the Spring High qualifier semifinals!” Kindaichi adds. “It’s an even bigger deal for you to do it now, especially since you had to miss our games on the first two days for school.” The team murmurs in agreement.

You shudder at the thought of your impending distress. Sit in the front row of the cheer squad and raise the banner with a scream every time your boyfriend serves? Fleeing from the Sendai City Gymnasium back home in an expensive taxi suddenly becomes very appealing.

Seeing the expectant and hopeful looks on the rest of the team’s faces, however, you begrudgingly place the banner in your backpack, signalling your acceptance of the horrible, cringe-worthy tradition.

“Where is Oikawa-san?” Kindaichi asks, rotating his turnip-shaped head around rapidly. “He was just at the team lunch. Iwaizumi-san’s missing too…”

Kunimi shrugs, pulling out his copy of the team schedule. He starts herding the team towards one of the courts. “Our game against Karasuno starts about an hour, so we should start warm-ups in around fifteen minutes.”

Worry creeps up your spine. For the past few days, all Oikawa has talked about is this match against his bratty kouhai’s team. And in the past two weeks leading up to today, you haven’t been able to even catch a glimpse of his face outside of break or lunch. To suddenly go missing before warm-ups doesn’t seem like Oikawa. You’re about to ask the team if he’s ever done this before, but your phone starts ringing a familiar tune and the question is set aside.

“Iwai––”

“Third-floor bathroom by the orange pillar. Come alone. Don’t tell anyone. Emergency.” Through his harsh and abrupt tone, you pick up traces of fear.

“What––”

“It’s Oikawa.” The call is cut before you can ask any more questions. Heart suddenly racing, you tell the team that your mother just called with questions about your new smart blender and excuse yourself to “explain what the manufacturers mean by salsify”. No one sees you bolt towards the nearest set of staircases with Oikawa the only thought on your mind.

There are very few things in this world that scare you. Stray hairs in the bathroom, the dark, essays longer than three pages… but the terror that short-circuits your brain when you find your boyfriend in the bathroom–– knuckles white around the sink, chest heaving violently, frenzied pupils surrounded by broken blood vessels–– trumps any fear you’ve faced before.

Iwaizumi stands helplessly beside him.

“Is he having a panic attack?” you question, still unable to move your feet. You’ve never seen Oikawa like this before. He’s the Grand King who hums while he walks, who spams your phone’s camera roll with peace-signs and funny faces, who winks and flirts and teases without regard. But watching the long-deified setter crumble like a measly human before you, you realise that Oikawa is also the guy who tore his meniscus from overexertion, who trades sleep to study his opponents play, who works his body to the bone just to stay a hairline above a certain Karasuno setter.

“A scout for the Schweiden Adlers said that Kageyama will soon surpass Oikawa in skill.” Iwaizumi explains how they had overheard the conversation lowly in your ear. “I got us into this bathroom just before he completely lost it. 5-4-3-2-1 isn’t working. And he won’t listen to a word I say.” What’s 5-4-3-2-1? Well, if it isn’t working then don’t focus on that right now.

Your eyes dart to Oikawa’s quivering body again. “I don’t know how to pull someone out of a panic attack.”

“The goal is to ground him. So use physical touch, make him feel something with texture, and get him to talk,” he responds instantly. Mechanically. Like he’s all-too-familiar with this set of instructions. A heaviness grows in the pit of your stomach when you realise what that means for Oikawa. And yet, from that very dread sprouts strength.

Slowly, you tread over to Oikawa and place a hand on his arm. His muscles tense under your touch but when you murmur over and over that it’s “Y/N, your girlfriend, the most annoying girl in Miyagi”, his fingers loosen ever-so-slightly from the metal basin. He lets you lead him to the bench by the door. He lets you drape the Seijoh banner over his shoulders like it’s armour and wrap your arms around his waist. He lets you press your cheek to his sweat-drenched back.

Get him to talk.

“Remember that quote you showed me from that interview of yours? What was it again?” you question softly.

No response.

“If you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks,” you say into his ear.

Through the mirror, you see his eyes widen with recognition. In the brief moment of lucidity that washes over Oikawa’s glistening face, you repeat the original question again, followed by his own quote.

Again and again.

And Oikawa finally says back.

“If you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks.” Focus re-enters his gaze. He blinks as if just waking from a spell.

“That’s right,” you say as firmly as possible. “So don’t you dare break first, Tooru.”

An unreadable blend of emotions scrawls itself over his features. While Oikawa washes his face with cold water, you remember rumination and resolve but can’t decipher the rest, giving up anyway when Iwaizumi pushes open the bathroom door. When the light washes over Oikawa, his face shows no signs of the episode he just had. It’s just like how the sky moves on after a storm, how the sun beams to say, “I’m here now. The rain has gone.”

But sometimes it still rains in spite of the sun.

A sunshower. It sounds so beautiful. But it’s wonderfully sad.

The three of you wordlessly make your way to the court where the rest of Seijoh is likely getting ready to warm up. What are you supposed to say after that? What can you say?

Once the smell of air salonpas and sweat finally greets your nose, Oikawa slips the Seijoh banner off his back and hands it over to you. Guessing that’s your cue to leave, you tell him to play well like you always do before starting to head for the upper deck. Softly, Oikawa asks you to wait.

“Stay for warm-ups,” he adds. “Please.”

From your spot behind the Seijoh divider, you carefully watch for any signs of another breakdown. To your relief, he goes the entire half-hour without a single crack in his disposition, exchanging laidback grins with the team, bantering with Iwaizumi. At one point he even has the audacity to taunt the Karasuno setter Tobio-chan, as Oikawa often says with a sneer.

Sunshowers, Y/N. Sunshowers.

Just before the referees call for the teams to line up at their ends of the court, Oikawa jogs over to you, eyes folding into thin crescents when he smiles.

He pulls the Seijoh banner out from your hands and gingerly cloaks it around your shoulders. Oikawa presses a quick kiss to your lips and murmurs, “Thank you.” Something in face tells you that it’s supposed to mean more than gratitude. Before you can read more into it, he turns back around and jogs to the line where his team awaits. Oikawa grins ferally.

Knowing that your luminous eyes are fixed to his back like his own set of wings, the monster crows on the other side suddenly look more like humans.

vi.

Oikawa isn’t surprised that his text is still unopened. At twenty-seven years old, he’s had his fair share of dead-ends when it comes to love. But he hadn’t expected radio silence from you of all people.

After closing all the tabs of Team Japan’s latest matches, he powers off his laptop and checks his phone again to reread what he wrote to your old number one last time. Still nothing. It’s highly probable you’ve changed phone numbers at least once in the last nine years, but the disappointment’s still there after he powers his phone off for the night. Tomorrow’s a big day and he’s not the same victim of self-destruction he had been in high school.

Or so he thinks, realising that texting the last person he loved the night before the 2021 Olympics volleyball finals might have been slightly irresponsible on his part. A thought arises in his head, though he quickly quashes it. Asking Iwaizumi to pass the message along would be a little overboard, wouldn’t it? Oikawa chuckles, imagining he response he’d get from his best friend (and Team Japan’s team trainer, that traitor).

“Go the fuck to sleep or I’ll put you to sleep, you dumbass simp,” he hears in Iwaizumi’s gruff voice.

He convinces himself that you’ll be there like you’ve always been. After all, he’s spent a lifetime with your pair of watchful eyes on his back. Satisfied, he drifts into a dreamless sleep.

The volume in the Ariake Arena is astronomical. Blood pounds against his ears as he sets the ball in the air, a monstrous grin carving into his face when his teammate José spikes the set straight down the net, drawing a wave of oohs and aahs from spectators on both sides.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at the flashy Team Argentina setter and finishes taping up Ushijima’s arm.

Oikawa turns haughtily towards the opposite team, gaze zeroing in on Team Japan’s raven-haired setter and the shrimpy ginger beside him. It’s been a while since he last saw them this close in person–– the chance encounter with Hinata in Brazil happened well over three years ago and he hadn’t had the time earlier in the tournament to say hello. Of course they’re the final boss in this arc, he muses, though the thought is void of vexation. Instead, begrudging pride blossoms in his chest. Truthfully, he had expected nothing less from his kouhai.

And he expects nothing less than finally tasting the ambrosia of victory against that monster–– no, an entire generation of monsters–– today. Monsters who happen to be the kids he grew up beside.

He wonders what you’d say at the sight of Japan’s greatest players all gathered on one court. On instinct, his eyes dive into the bleachers, searching for your face. Knowing he’s not likely to find you like this, he tsks, deciding to look for Iwaizumi instead. Maybe he knows where you are.

The referees signal for both teams to line up at their ends of the court. As he steps onto the white boundary line, he notices Iwaizumi’s gaze transfixed on someone in the upper deck on Team Argentina’s side. The neutral expression on his face morphs into shock, then recognition. And then he glances at Oikawa.

The latter’s brows furrow before everything clicks in place.

Who else…

All your memories together hit him at full force–– your face shimmering with tears in front of gate twelve in Haneda Airport, the feeling of your shallow breaths against his neck, the savvy lilt to your voice as you speak.

… if not her?

For the first time in his life, Oikawa Tooru looks behind his shoulder.

And there you are, leaning against the railing with the old Seijoh flag draped over your shoulders, a tender, splendid smile on your lips.

“Play well,” you mouth.

And Oikawa feels the sun rise back into his hands.

#oikawa tooru #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst #oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #oikawa scenarios #oikawa imagine #oikawa fic #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #my search history is... a mess after this #fun fact there are 13 official shrines in miyagi did u know that? #bc now i do :) #and there are also many beaches in sendai #there's an area called seven beaches #it has seven beaches #happy birthday oikawa #hope you can feel my love through this fic #also comment if u catch my tiktok reference!! LOL

[tyongxnct]

𝑤𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 - 𝐿𝑒𝑒 𝐽𝑒𝑛𝑜

pairing: Jeno x reader

special guest: Jaemin

summary: Jeno and you used to be deeply in love. Your relationship was almost too good to be true. But after a while, the perfect relationship was anything but perfect. No more talking about your problems, just yelling and shouting until you had enough. The lack of communication destroyed your relationship and moving on was harder than you two thought.

song: we don’t talk anymore - Selena Gomez

genre: angst, breakup!au

warnings: swearing

word count: 3.7k

A/N: can’t believe that i’m almost done with the series, omg. I hope you enjoy this 💖 

taglist: @alex-chann​, @aesthetichrj​

© tyongxnct on all platforms

We don't talk anymore We don't talk anymore We don't talk anymore Like we used to do We don't love anymore What was all of it for? Oh, we don't talk anymore Like we used to do

Your relationship with Jeno was almost perfect, a love just like the ones written in fairytales. You were snow white and he was prince charming, he saved you when you were at your lowest. He held your hand and never let go. You were Arielle and he was prince Eric. You would give up anything for him just like Arielle gave up her voice to be with Eric. Your love was so strong, so real, and so simple. The key was communication. You always talked to each other no matter what was going on. Whether it was about jealousy, decisions about the future, family problems or difficulties with friends. You talked about everything and anything and you always found a solution. Whenever you had a disagreement you talked about it and all the problems were solved like that.

But your relationship didn’t end with a happy ending like all the fairytales did.

The communication stopped and your relationship slowly fell apart.

“How was your day?” you asked him. Jeno was busy with his phone and you tried to get his attention.

“Good.”

Next try.

“I talked to my mother this morning. She missed us and I told her we would visit her this weekend I hope that’s okay for you.”

Jeno’s face lit up with anger. “I told you I was busy. You can’t just tell her that we’ll visit. A no is a no, Y/n. I don’t have time to visit your family what’s so hard to understand?”

“I know that you’re busy, but I thought that you should relax a little and stop worrying about work-“

“You want me to relax and stop worry about work? Who’s gonna pay the bills If I just relax?” he hissed. He had a long day, and he wasn’t in the mood to talk to you.

“It’s just for one weekend-“

“Cancel it. Or you know what? Just go without me. Go visit your mother and let me relax at home without you nagging about everything for once.” Jeno left the living room and entered the kitchen. A bottle of beer would help him calm down, he thought.

“We’re not done, Jeno. Can you just consider it without being an ass?”

“I’m not going to discuss this with you. I’m exhausted. Let me be, for god’s sake.”

You left him alone in the kitchen just like he wanted to be, you entered your bedroom and got changed to go to sleep. You weren’t sure If you changed, but Jeno changed for sure. He’s cold and always so moody. You couldn’t even have a simple conversation with him.

You left the apartment without saying anything to Jeno. He was at work and whenever you called or texted, he got mad. You decided to visit your family, maybe a three-day break would help your relationship get back to normal, you really hoped it would.

Jeno entered the apartment and instead of smelling the delicious food you always made, he was welcomed by silence and an empty apartment. Jeno looked around but you were nowhere to be seen. Some of your clothes were also gone and he started to panic.

He called you immediately and he was furious. How could you leave without telling him anything?

“Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?” he asked angrily.

“Jeno I told you that I was going to visit my parents why are you acting like this?” you hissed back.

“I-I forgot- but you could’ve told me this morning! Or last night, do you really think I can remember everything you tell me?!”

He kept yelling even though he knew that you didn’t do anything wrong.

“Are you being serious right now? You can’t even remember one thing I tell you and you get angry at me? Maybe you should listen to me the first time instead of acting like I did something wrong. I’m going to turn my phone off until Monday. Don’t try to contact me.” And you hung up without letting him speak again.

Jeno angrily threw his phone on the bed and took off his clothes to take a shower. He knew that you were right, but he would never admit that. He should be happy, he could finally relax and have fun without you being there 24/7.

You thought that he would change when you come back, but he didn’t.

He was still the same. Not listening but always complaining and ignoring your feelings. Three days with your family made you happier than the last three months with Jeno.

After another week with him, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“This, whatever this is, is not good for us! There’s not a moment you’re not complaining or yelling at me! Not a single I love you left your mouth since I don’t even know, two months! You’re always telling me that everything I do is wrong and that you’re sick of me! T-This isn’t the relationship we once had. There’s no love- just pain. All I feel when I look at you is pain a-and I don’t want that… I-I just want you to love me, but this is going nowhere. So I’m going to say it now,” you inhaled deeply, “L-Let’s just break up and stop our suffering.”

Tears streamed down your face and you couldn’t even remember the last time you had cried like this. Your heart was breaking, and it hurt so much, but you knew that he’d never do the first step and just break up with you because he hated being confronted. The communication died just like your relationship.

“Fine. Then leave. If you want to break up, let’s do it. Let’s end it here.” Jeno’s blood was boiling with anger, he thought, but it was actually pain and the fear of losing you. But just like always, he didn’t talk to you about your problems and just agreed on breaking up.

I just heard you found the one you've been looking You've been looking for I wish I would have known that wasn't me 'Cause even after all this time, I still wonder Why I can't move on Just the way you did so easily

Don't wanna know Kind of dress you're wearing tonight If he's holding onto you so tight The way I did before I overdosed Should've known your love was a game Now I can't get you out of my brain Oh, it's such a shame

It’s been almost eight months since your breakup with Jeno. With every passing second, your memories slowly faded. You moved out and moved into a small apartment on the other side of the city, far, far away from place you once called home. It took you a little time to finally get used to the fact that you and Jeno weren’t together anymore.

You weren’t actually looking for someone new, the empty spot in your heart wasn’t 100% ready to be filled again, but when you met Na Jaemin, a literal angel, you couldn’t help but slowly fall for him. You met him in a bookstore, while you were looking for a new book to read, he was working there and helped you find the perfect book and after you finished the book, you spend all of your time in the little bookstore with him. Your relationship with Jaemin started as friends but your heart skipped a beat whenever you were with him and you knew that you wanted to be more than friends. Jaemin could swear that it was love at first sight, when he saw you while you looked through the bookstore and after he got to know you, he fell even harder.

He knew about your relationship with Jeno and he agreed on taking it slow. He showered you with so much love and he was always there for you.

It was one of your friends birthdays when you met Jeno again. She was a mutual friend, and you didn’t want to go at first, but Jaemin encouraged you to face him.

You changed your outfit, even though you weren’t really in the mood to wear a dress but you still wore one. You wanted to show your sexy side to Jaemin. The poor guy always saw you wearing oversized hoodies and sweatpants, but he always told you that you looked hot and sexy, no matter what you were wearing.

“I didn’t know that Y/n has a new boyfriend.” Jeno heard someone say.

“Oh yeah, his name is Jaemin. I’ve met him a couple weeks ago and I’ve never seen her happier.”

Jeno looked at the girl talking. How would she know how happy you were before? How would she know that you weren’t happier when you were with him? You were always happy with him, he thought. Well, you were always happy until he decided to hurt you.

He still remembers how hard you tried and how he pushed you away. You gave your everything to save your relationship but Jeno didn’t care and when you broke up with him, he just let you.

But he was sure, that nobody could make you happier than he could. Right?

You have a new boyfriend, so what?

It’s been months, but you were still the only thing on Jeno’s mind. He was nervous, maybe coming to the club was a stupid decision. He didn’t know why you were still on his mind after months of pushing you away. Why is he thinking about you? Why is he always dreaming of you?

You weren’t thinking about him anymore, you moved on. You moved on and found someone new, someone who made you happier.

Why couldn’t he stop seeing you everywhere?

Why couldn’t he stop missing you?

Jeno started to panic.

He didn’t want to see you. He didn’t want to see you with someone else. He didn’t want to see you happy without him.

You were playing with his heart and his brain. You were the one who left and when you left you took a part of his heart with you and after you left, everything fell apart and he hated you. Jeno hated you because you played with him, you made him think that it was his fault and after you left, everything reminded you of him and he was broken.

But he knew that it was his fault.

No matter how hard he tried to push the thought away, that he destroyed the best thing he had, deep inside, he knew that he destroyed it with his own two hands.

While Jeno was deep in thoughts, he didn’t even notice that he was drinking and drinking and when he saw you walk to your friend with a stranger holding your hand, he finished his fifth glass of whiskey in one go. Jeno was actually drinking a simple cocktail, he can’t remember when he changed his drink to something stronger. You looked, well, you looked as beautiful as always, but the big smile on your face was almost foreign to him, he thought.

When was the last time you smiled like that when you were with him?

He couldn’t remember.

Jeno’s grip around his glass tightened as he watched that guy put his hand on your waist, pulling you closer.

You greeted all of your friends and Jeno watched you from the bar.

Jeno was jealous, not only because Jaemin could hold you, but also because of all of the other guys who looked at you. He hated it, he always hated it. Jeno hated the fact that someone looked at his girlfriend. Whenever you talked about his jealousy you assured him that there was no reason to get jealous and with time, his jealousy wasn’t as bad as it was before.

But right now, he felt like he was going to explode.

Jaemin held you tightly, he knew that Jeno was there but he wasn’t worried. After everything you told him, he knew that there was absolutely no reason to be worried. He trusted you and you trusted him.

You introduced Jaemin to a couple friends, he was nice to everyone and when you were so into the conversation with your friend, Jaemin kissed your cheek and told you that he’s going to get you and himself something to drink.

He knew what you liked, he didn’t have to ask you.

When Jaemin walked to the bar, Jeno watched him with anger in his eyes. Jaemin didn’t notice and when he leaned against the bar, right next to Jeno, he ordered two drinks. Jaemin thanked the bartender and walked back to you.

His hands and lips were all over you, Jeno’s blood was boiling.

You danced with Jaemin and Jeno was ready to leave the club, he couldn’t watch you have fun with someone else. It hurt too much. But when he was about to leave, your eyes met his.

Time stood still.

Jeno couldn’t hear the loud crowd of the club and the loud music anymore, all he could hear was your voice, your broken voice telling him that you wanted to break up.

Let’s just break up and stop our suffering.

Let’s just break up and stop our suffering.

Let’s just break up and stop our suffering.

You were suffering when you were with Jeno and Jeno realized how much of a fool he was. How he took you for granted and how he ignored your feelings.

Jeno hurt you.

You just wanted to feel loved and Jeno couldn’t give you that. You talked to him, you told him how hurt you were, how much you missed him. You were in pain and it was his fault.

Jeno realized, that he always loved you.

He shouldn’t have let you go. He shouldn’t have agreed to break up. He should’ve tried to change, to be better for you, to show you how much he actually loved you. But it was over now, you were not his anymore and it was all his fault.

You softly smiled at Jeno, even after everything he put you through, you were still too nice to him.

Jeno’s eyes were empty, just like your side of his bed, just like his heart. You filled his life with joy, love, and happiness. His heart was full of love for you, but now it was just pain and longing.

Jeno tried to smile back at you, he wanted to tell you so many things, but he couldn’t.

His eyes filled with tears, his fist clenched, his gaze left you and he tried not to cry in the middle of a club. He was so drunk and he couldn’t let his drunk self take over and hurt you further, that’s how he looked one last time at you and left the club without thinking twice.

Jeno wanted to go home and drink until he couldn’t feel that arche in his heart anymore.

I just hope you're lying next to somebody Who knows how to love you like me There must be a good reason that you're gone Every now and then I think you might want me to Come show up at your door But I'm just too afraid that I'll be wrong

Don't wanna know If you're looking into her eyes If she's holding onto you so tight The way I did before I overdosed Should've known your love was a game Now I can't get you out of my brain Oh, it's such a shame

six months ago

It’s been two months since your breakup with Jeno. You missed him. You missed Jeno so much, it hurt. Being apart from Jeno hurt you even more.

You didn’t know what you were supposed to do.

It was almost midnight and your heart fought against your brain.

What if Jeno missed you too?

What if Jeno thought about you?

What if he regrets how he acted and was sorry?

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You didn’t know how you ended up in front of his apartment, but you found yourself in your car. You heart won against your brain.

What if he laughs at you?

What if he kicks you out?

What if he was over you?

But, what if he wants you back?

You were afraid, you were so afraid and the second you unclasped your belt you saw Jeno with a girl in his arms.

He was holding her hand.

He was smiling brightly.

He was done with you.

The sight in front of you broke your heart once again. You didn’t think he’d move on that fast, but then again you didn’t know if he started seeing her after your breakup. What if he cheated on you with her?

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply.  

Seeing Jeno with someone else hurt, but you realized that moment that you had to move on too. You didn’t want to suffer anymore, you didn’t want to be sad anymore. You couldn’t hold onto something that was breaking you apart. It was over and there was no going back.

Present

When your eyes met Jeno’s, you smiled genuinely. You held eye contact for a second and you realized that he looked… broken? He didn’t look like the Jeno you once knew. Dark bags under his eyes and his eyes were red, he couldn’t even walk properly, he was too drunk and you knew how Jeno was when he drank too much.

You weren’t going to talk to him, not because you were still angry and hurt, no. There was no reason to talk to your ex-boyfriend. You moved on and you were happier than ever. You loved Jaemin so much and you felt loved, Jaemin is all you need.

You hoped that Jeno was also happy just like you were. No matter what happened between you two, Jeno was always someone kindhearted and you wanted him to be happy. You hoped that he was with someone who loved him as much as you did.

You saw that he tried to smile at you, but when he blinked you saw how glossy his eyes were and right after, he left the club.

“Baby, are you alright?” Jaemin asked you.

“Yes, I’m fine. I love you.” You once again realized that you needed to lose Jeno to find your true love, Jaemin.

That we don't talk anymore We don't talk anymore We don't talk anymore Like we used to do We don't love anymore What was all of it for? Oh, we don't talk anymore Like we used to do

The ringing of your phone woke you up in the middle of the night. An unknown number called you.

“Hello?” you mumbled.

There was no answer.

“Who’s there?”

“H-Hi, Y/n.”

“Jeno?” you sat up in your bed, your back resting against the bedframe.

“Yes… it’s me. I’m sorry that I called you this late but-“ he stopped talking.

“But?”

“I- I just wanted to hear you voice.” He whispered.

“Jeno-“

“N-No please, just listen to me? Okay? Please.” He begged.

“Fine.

“E-Ever since I saw you at the club… I-I can’t get you out of my head- wait, no that’s not true, I couldn’t get you out my head for the last months now. A-And when I saw you again, I just… I just didn’t know what to do, so I called you and I want to tell you, that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I treated you. I’m sorry for hurting you, I-I’m so fucking sorry that I let you go that easily. I should’ve tried to keep you- there are so many things I regret.” He sobbed.

“Jeno-“

“I’m not done. I hate myself so much. I feel so lonely and I miss you. I miss you so much- I miss what we had before I destroyed everything- I miss holding you, kissing you and loving you.”

“What about your girlfriend? I thought you were happy with her?” you asked, there was no emotion in your voice.

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend?” he asked confused.

“Two months after our breakup I, uhm, I drove to your house and I saw you holding hands with a girl. You looked happy. I thought you were happy.” You admitted.

“N-No no, there’s no one. S-she was just someone I hooked up with, she didn’t mean anything to me. I promise you that she was just distraction.” Jeno rambled, “But what were you doing there?”

“I,” you breathed in and out, “I wanted to try again. I thought we could start over or something. I don’t know. I had missed you.”

“Y-You wanted to try again? You mean there was a chance for us to get back together?” he couldn’t stop his tears, “You mean I destroyed another chance with you?”

“It’s better this way.”

“No! I can’t believe this, I could be with you right now, I could be holding you right now. I could-“ his voice broke, “I fuck up everything. I let you suffer and I don’t know what to do. I-I love you, I never stopped loving you.”

“Jeno, I’m sorry, but I’m in a happy relationship. It’s over, I’m really sorry but-“

“No, please give me another chance, I’ll show you how much I love you, please Y/n, I love you I can make you happy, give me one last chance to make everything right-“

“I love Jaemin. I really love him. I don’t think we should be talking right now, I’m sorry but please don’t call me ever again.” You didn’t want to hurt him further but this conversation was going nowhere.

“Please, don’t do this to us, please, I love you I-I really do. I missed you voice so much, don’t hang up please. Y/n, I love you. Please tell me that you love me too, please.”

“I’m sorry.”

You could hear his whimpers and cries and you would be lying if you said that it didn’t hurt you hearing him cry like that. But you moved on and there was no way that you go back to Jeno.

“N-No, I’m sorry, so sorry for everything- I-I hope he k-knows how rare you are. I didn’t know that and then I lost you. I love you.”

“Goodbye Jeno.”

“Goodbye, Y/n…I love you.”

SEQUEL: the way I loved you

#nct dream angst #nct angst #lee jeno #jeno x reader #jeno scenarios #jaemin #na jaemin #nct dream #jeno x you #lee jeno angst #jeno angst