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distantdarlings · 5 months

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HOUSE PRIDE // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* Theo is pissed that you seem to be interested in other guys. The two of you are not officially dating so you find it ridiculous that you can't talk to whomever you want. You have feelings for Theo, though, and think it might be interesting to put his jealousy to the test.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Heavy sexual material, degradation, name-calling, jealousy, fem reader, language, dom!Theo--honestly, this is just depraved

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Pyramids - Frank Ocean

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You pressed your face to your hands, breathing deeply. You couldn’t believe what you were fucking hearing. The pounding in your head refused to subside as he kept demanding an answer.

“Hello? Do you wanna explain why you were practically throwing yourself on Riddle today at lunch?” the brunette demanded, his eyes widened and wild. Your hands dropped and you made eye contact with the boy. You were in disbelief.

“Throwing myself at him? You dick, I tripped and fell on him! That’s just number one! Number two: you are not my fucking boyfriend,” you shouted, “I can throw myself on whoever I want, whenever I want!”

Theo locked his jaw and pursed his lips slightly. A tell of his that meant he was very angry. He didn’t usually speak much after he pushed past this point. More like, just crossed his arms and stared at you, eye bordering on twitching. You scoffed and held your hands out, waiting for a response from him. He said nothing.

“I don’t need you to tell me who to give attention to, Theo. You are not my boyfriend, I am not your girlfriend. I tripped and fell against Mattheo this morning and we both laughed it off, so why can’t you?”

“You just tripped and fell on him and his hands landed on your ass? Oh, whoops, just an accident!” he mocked you.

“I don’t know if his hands were on my ass or not, he may have been trying to stabilize me as quickly as he could—but besides the point, who gives a fuck if he was touching my ass? It’s not like you’ve been too eager to do anything anytime soon!” you shout, blood rushing through your ears and cheeks. Shit. You did not mean to say that. His head shot back and his eyes widened slightly. You kept the anger imprinted on your face to attempt to hide the embarrassment you were feeling so strongly. Hopefully, he would think this was a super-confident confession written in a rage. Still, he said nothing.

“Oh, forget it! To hell with you, Theo!” you screamed, grabbing your robes and running out of his dorm room. He said nothing and made no move to stop you. Your feet carried you down the hallway and into your own room.

None of your roommates were here. You figured they were all in different dorms, preparing for the common room party in a few hours. Once every couple of months, some of the Slytherins—usually seniors—will get together and prepare a “house” party. They’re always fun, high-energy, and filled to the brim with Slytherin pride. Merlin, you loved them.

You had originally declined to go tonight. You had some leftover work that was due on Monday and you almost thought that Theo would invite you to Hogsmeade or something, but you should have known better than that. It seems all he’s concerned about is his reputation.

You tugged through the buttons on your uniform top and ripped it off your shoulders. You pulled your skirt and socks off, holding the end of your bed for balance. There were a couple of nice outfits shoved in the trunk beneath the bedframe—you figured something in there would do. You reached up and let your hair down from its elastic, allowing it to fall to its natural length. The ends of the waved strands tickled your skin as you yanked the trunk into the open. Inside were a couple of different combinations, all saved up for special occasions. And if anyone asked you, making Theo Nott as jealous as you possibly could was a very special occasion.

Your eyes fell on a specific top. A long sleeve, skin-tight sweetheart neckline that plunged a little deeper than it should, and a flared, darkened skirt. You reckoned it was simple and sexy. It practically bled Theo’s name all over your body, claiming you as his, though you pretended like you hated that. He never needed to know it, but you secretly loved how jealous he became when you had the smallest interactions with other people. You blow a curled hair out of your face. The fucker could have been running down the halls with a red tapestry taped to his back and you still wouldn’t call him a red flag. He was just what you wanted; what you’d wanted for years. Whether or not he’d ever actually act on your feelings for each other, you belonged to him and he belonged to you.

You slipped the outfit on, mussed up your hair a bit, and applied a light layer of makeup. With the two tests, three project due dates, and eighteen assignments you’d had this week, you could use a bit of a touch-up. Hopefully, you didn’t sweat it off by the end of the night—though, that was sort of the goal.

You grabbed your wand and slipped it into your back pocket, patting it twice for good luck, and pushed through the dorm door. Down the hallway, you could hear the faint pounding of music. Your heart raced, keeping in time with the deep bass pushing past the walls. Was this a good idea? For a few moments, you stood in front of your door, pondering your options. Your plan for this evening could either end really well or really badly or you could avoid the possibilities completely and stay in like you originally planned. A deep sigh left you as your eyes slid closed. Who cared? This was your life and, you’d said it earlier, Theo was not your boyfriend and you intended on finishing what you’d started with Mattheo earlier this morning.

Deep cool colors swirled throughout the common room, echoing off of every shadow and highlight in the moulding. Everywhere you looked there was another Slytherin scarf or Quidditch team hat. One boy even wore a Slytherin flag around his neck like a cape. You laughed at the absurd outfit. These parties were most definitely one of the best things about being a Slytherin. Say what you will about the house, but they could throw a fucking party.

You slid through swaying bodies, feeling the bass echo deep in your chest, rattling your ribcage. A couple of your friends were scattered throughout the crowd and slipped in gracefully with their personal friends. As you passed by them, they waved or flashed you a bright smile, all of which you returned. You would come back and talk but, for now, you were looking for someone specific.

There was a table set up in front of the fireplace, decked out with green and black decorations, and overflowing with tall glasses of firewhisky. Your eyes skated along the length of the furniture until it reached a familiar body. You smirked and grabbed a drink before making your way over.

Enzo stood against the edge of the table, discussing something with one of the “bartenders.” When you stopped in front of him, his lips ceased and his eyes found your chest, then your eyes. His lips remained parted. Sweet, sweet Enzo.

“Hey, En, I was wondering if you’d seen Mattheo, anywhere?” you smiled. He said nothing for a few seconds before stuttering back to life like an old car.

“Uh, no, I haven’t seen him anywhere…uh, why do you need—um, I mean, did you need to talk to him?” he stumbled, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets. The boy he’d been talking to—some fifth-year—snorted and rolled his eyes, turning away from the two of you to pour a couple more drinks. You stepped closer to Enzo, feeling his body heat on you. The shoes you were wearing granted you a couple more inches of height, which, consequently, put your hairline just above his. His eyes were angled slightly upward as he watched you.

You waved him against you. He leaned in. The confidence burning through you tonight was more than you’d felt in a long time. You felt hurt and angry and frustrated. You could fix one of those quickly. You traced the skin above his ear, pushing a small tuft of copper hair back. A small shudder went through his body as you pressed your lips against his ear.

“I just wanted to dance and was looking for a boy who’d dance with me,” you said slowly. “I thought Mattheo would be the best but maybe you could…you know…”

You pulled away and smiled sweetly, placing a deep innocence into your eyes, watching as his lips parted and closed multiple times. You tilted your head to the right, allowing your eyes to switch from his eyes to his lips ever so briefly.

“I haven’t seen Mattheo, I’ll dance with you,” he said, licking his lips and swallowing thickly. You smiled brightly and grabbed one of the hands hanging limply by his side. You felt his warm skin beneath yours as you tugged him toward the center of the dancing mass. You were pretty sure you recognized the song playing and proceeded to work all of its beats throughout your body, encouraging Enzo to join you.

“Come on, En!” you laughed. “You’re supposed to dance with me.” He seemed to shock out of a momentary stupor. You felt good tonight and you hoped it was showing on your face and body. He still didn’t move and you reckoned he was going to take some physical guiding.

As the song slowed slightly, you grabbed both of his hands and slid them around your hips. His breath shuddered through his lips as you began moving the two of you. You dropped your hands to his belt and guided his hips a bit, biting back a smile. He had all of the facilities for these particular…activities, he was just really nervous. Soon enough, though, his hips were moving on their own.

You turned around and placed your back against his chest. Without prompting, his hands dropped down to your hips, gripping them firmly. He moved you against him to every beat of the song. To be honest, he was placing a little bit of blush in your stomach. One of your arms raised to wrap loosely around his neck.

“That’s it, baby,” you cooed in his ear, cradling the base of his neck with your hand. One of his hands raised to hold your arm against him as the other stayed intact on your hip. A crooked smile found its way onto his lips as the both of you felt every rhythm the other was putting out. Fuck, maybe you’d picked the wrong boy all along. The way Enzo was grabbing your hips and ever so slowly grinding against your ass had your lips parting in a slow gasp.

“Like this?” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. Merlin, help you.

If anything could have pulled you out of your current situation, it was the burning eyes you felt against you pouring into your skin like a brand. You gasped a bit and looked away from Enzo. Almost immediately, you found Theo’s eyes on the two of you. Enzo noticed your sudden change of attention and glanced up, finding the older’s eyes. Like he’d been branded himself, his hands faded away from you and, almost as quickly, so did he. Fucker. So much for sticking by you.

You were used to it by now, though. Where you were involved, Theo was, too. Even though you weren’t actually together, everyone knew you were Theo’s. Anytime you were hanging out with another boy, he always found out. Even if it was just for a school assignment.

His jaw was clenched and ticking. His eyes were lidded and ice-cold, angled right at you. You rolled your eyes and huffed, stomping off through the crowd. He couldn’t get whatever he wanted all the time. He needed to pick. He needed to officially claim you as his, take you on dates, buy you gifts, and all that nonsense or he needed to leave you the hell alone. He couldn’t have it both ways.

You finally came upon the end of the crowd and the staircase leading to the girl’s dorms. You hurried up the steps, not even caring if he was behind you or ignoring you or with a different girl.

The hallway was completely empty, everybody down at the party or taking an early night. You rushed across the winding floors, trying your best to get to your room before Theo changed his mind. You just wanted to get out of your clothes and makeup and go to bed. Your dorm door appeared around the corner followed by an immense sense of relief.

Your hand closed around the doorknob and—a hand closed tightly around your arm and yanked you back. A yelp escaped your lips as the perpetrator slammed you roughly into the wall just beside the door. It was Theo. He was livid, his breath coming out in hard slants, and his eyes so darkened they appeared black. You swallowed thickly, your breath rushing out of you just as his was. The two of you heard your hearts pounding in tandem.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demanded, his face inches from yours. Your eyes glanced down from his to his lips, watching the changes in his anger. He waited impatiently for an answer for too long before you realized it wasn’t meant to be a rhetorical question.

He grabbed your arm once more and pulled you away from the wall. A swift flick of his wand and a fury like no other, and he was pulling you into your empty dorm room. It was almost completely dark by now.

“You want some attention, huh?” he said, casting a flame into the stove set in the middle of the room, his grip on your arm never weakening. He slammed his wand down on your bedside table and pushed you onto your bed. You fell roughly against the mattress, your hands holding you up into a sitting position. He stared down at you wildly, like an angry parent.

“Answer me,” he growled. Your eyes bore the same innocence you’d given to Enzo earlier and you knew that he’d only last a few minutes like this. Already, his facade was flickering and his gaze was softening.

“I just—I don’t know, Teddy, I—”

“You just, you—you, you…fucking spit it out,” he mocked you. Body betraying your mind, heat pooled in your lower stomach as his face got closer and closer to yours and he got angrier and angrier. If it was anyone else, you’d have gotten embarrassed or angry but with Theo…it was a different feeling.

“All out of confidence, hmm? What happened, baby, you had plenty out there when you were grinding your ass all over Lorenzo Berkshire in front of everyone!”

“What’s wrong with Enzo?” you squeaked, your thumbs rolling over the other.

“He’s not me, you stupid girl,” he roared, his words perking your chest. You pressed your thighs together discreetly, never losing eye contact with him. You hoped he hadn’t seen you.

“Are you serious? Are you fucking turned on right now?” he asked. He had seen you. You didn’t say anything. His hand reached around and roughly gripped your hair, his fingers tugging deliciously on your scalp. He held your head back.

“Answer me, baby,” he whispered, his voice a thousand times different. “Does it turn you on when I shout at you? When you get me jealous and worked up?” The way he was looking down at you had you gulping against the strain being placed on your throat. You nodded.

“God, you’re so fucking pathetic,” he laughed darkly, the sinister tone in his voice echoing in your stomach. His hand let go of your hair and grabbed your jaw tightly. He held your face up so you were looking directly into his eyes.

“Maybe I need to remind you who you fucking belong to?” An eyebrow quirked. You nodded once more, anticipation hitting you like a train. He smirked, releasing your jaw by pushing you back roughly. Your back came into contact with the bed, the material nearly knocking the breath out of you.

He crawled over you slowly, letting his lips ghost over your exposed cleavage, neck, chin, lips. He paused and allowed his breath to pour into your mouth. He tasted like alcohol, the scent of it burning your lips. He pushed his tongue out and gently traced it over your bottom lip. Your lips parted in a gasp at the contact. Just as soon as your mouth had opened, his had covered it, suffocating all breath. You moaned into him, feeling the way his body held you tightly against the mattress.

You raised your hand to place your fingers beneath his shirt, but one of his hands reached down and grabbed yours with a speed your intoxicated brain wasn’t capable of comprehending right now. He raised them above your head and held them with a grip like a vice, his fingers violent and unyielding. You’d definitely have bruises in the morning.

You bucked your hips against him, trying to illicit some contact between your core and his. He grunted at the touch before pulling back and roughly turning you over, pressing your chest into the mattress.

“Don’t fucking do that,” he growled into your ear, still holding your hands tightly above you. “Do as I fucking say. I’m going to pull this skirt up and I’m going to fuck you and you’re not going to say a word but my name. Do you understand me?” You nodded frantically, impatiently waiting for some contact.

“Keep your hands there,” he instructed as he slowly let them go. You curled your fingers around the edge of the bed to keep them locked in place. You didn’t dare disobey him.

Behind you, you could hear the clink of his belt buckle as he pulled it from his jeans and dropped it to the floor. The anticipation was killing you, your thighs pressing tightly together for a chance at some friction. The heat between them was beginning to become too much.

He pressed bruising kisses along the side of your neck, trailing them down your shoulder. His teeth cut along the flesh, ripping blacks and blues into the sensitive skin. You whimpered at the feeling, knowing good and well he just wanted everyone to see whose you were.

His fingers ghosted along the outsides of your thighs, tracing the chills that appeared in their wake. You shuddered against the sheets, waiting to feel everything he was about to do. You couldn’t see any of his movements and, for whatever reason, that amplified the feeling by a million.

There was a moment of nothing except for the sound of rustling clothing. No part of him touched you and you found yourself becoming more and more desperate by the moment. You reckoned he was removing unnecessary items of his outfit but if he didn’t do something soon, you were going to start pitching a fit.

Then his thumb pressed against your thin undergarments, right where you needed him the very most. An awfully audible moan left your lips and your spine arched against his touch. Merlin help anyone who walked by this dorm or, worse, tried to come in.

“Please, baby,” you sighed, your fingers clenching tightly against the mattress. His hand roughly grabbed your hair once more, tugging your head back.

“My name only, you dumb slut,” he insulted before pushing your head back into the sheets. One hand held your head to the bed as the other lined his hips up with yours.

No matter how many times the two of you did this, you’d never get used to it. He was just so much better than any of the other boys in school. And there were a lot of them too. None of them felt like Theo and he knew it, too. He knew that you would always come back to him. He was impossible to leave. His touch and rough, degrading words were addictive and you couldn’t stay away from him. Your friends had told you over and over again that you needed to drop him and completely move on but you just couldn’t. He was the closest thing to a drug you had.

He tucked a finger beneath your undergarments and slid them over to the side. He placed a hand in front of your face. “Spit,” he ordered. You complied. He spread the material over his fingers slowly, coating each one thoroughly. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his hand disappear and reintroduce itself with your core. The tips of his soaked fingers skirted between the slit of your skin, lathering you in his touch. Just as he’d instructed, his name poured from your lips like a prayer.

He pulled his hands away and quickly replaced them with a dark, warm heat that pressed into you agonizingly slowly, stretching every part of you out.

“Fuck, it’s been a while,” he groaned breathlessly, pushing into you until he bottomed out. His lips curve just above your ear, every moan and whisper touching your mind like a soft hand. As he began to move, they became louder and made less sense to either of you. His name curled around the room. You worshipped him. The reverence you placed on every syllable touched his chest and slid down to his core. He gasped into your ear. You sounded so fucking good.

It didn’t matter if he fucked every girl in Hogwarts, none of them could ever compare to you.

“Theo, baby, you feel so good,” you screamed, the words vibrating your skin.

“Yeah, baby?” he breathed. You moaned aloud as he pressed an especially sharp thrust against you. “I know, I know.”

“Please, please, please,” you babbled, your words pathetic and useless. His hips never ceased their brutal pace.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed. “Are you my girl? Or are you Enzo’s?” He growled the last part, his fingers tangling painfully in your hair. You yelped at the feeling, tilting your head back to relieve some of the pain.

“No, no! I’m yours, Teddy, I’m all yours, please,” you begged.

“That’s right, baby.” He released your hair. Every movement of his body brought you closer and closer to your end. His hands gripping your hips and pulling himself toward his own, his lips curling against your ear, his weight holding you perfectly in place.

Neither of you would last much longer and you both knew that. Every deep push of his hips drove you further into your pleasure as you began to close around him, gradually coaxing a release out of him. One of his hands dropped down to trace tight circles against you, ignoring the way your hips quaked to get away from the overstimulation. You were done for.

Every sound pouring from his lips began to mingle with yours a bit closer as he pushed you through both of your final breaths. His hips got slower and his grip loosened on your waist. The loss of his support sent your weakened body falling back down to the mattress. A breathless chuckle came from him as he laid down beside you, his shimmering skin luminescent in the moonlight. You presented him with a tired smile.

“Could Enzo fuck you like that?” he asked, a proud smirk imprinted on his lips.

“I don’t know—I’ll let you know when I find out.”

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #reader insert #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #hogwarts fanfiction #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #mattheo riddle

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ronearoundblindly · 2 months

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Hideout (2)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Sweet Baby (see previous or series)

Summary: 'Grant' becomes comfortable enough to tell you who he is, and you get comfortable enough to show him the kindness he deserves.

Warnings for description of minor blood/injury and light smut (mentions of morning wood, dry humping, hair pulling, praise kink? maybe coached orgasm?). This series is 18+ only. MINORS DNI. There is plenty else for you youngins to read on my Light Masterlist, but this is not for you! WC 2.6k

Warmer months are for updating the rooms, so they are on a rotation of renovation. There are really busy times and really slow times based on events in town, but there’s an understanding with Grant’s ‘party’ of friends that, if needed, they can stay in the room closed for repair. It’s not as if any room is uninhabitable when they need a coat of paint and some plumbing tune-ups.

Clark doesn’t remember you told him about this—you used the excuse that Grant ’s company are handymen (and women) who come in between other jobs,—so the front desk kid calls you while you’re out running errands one day.

Two ‘dudes’ want to stay in room eight on the end. So? Let them. Those are the people who fix things. Clark just says “kay.”

When you pull into the lot hours later, you don’t expect to find Grant sitting on the curb, filthy and exhausted in some gym clothes, a plastic bag set at his feet.

“Wha’ch’a waiting for?” you call with the window down, hoping his spirits can lift easily.

Grant peers up at you through long lashes. He’s had a knock-down drag-out with a field of bramble…or something. That’s when you notice dark, dried blood in the grime stuck to him, and he lets out a long sigh.

“Sa—Tom used all the hot water,” he huffs, “so I’m biding my time.”

Their room’s water tank, the one due for maintenance, is going to take an eternity to reheat, and it’s the worst luck that there really are no other rooms available.

“Hop on in. You can use the bath up at the house.”

He looks just as startled as you by the invitation, but in no simple terms can you express how bad it is to have a huge guy covered in blood hanging out in front of your rural motel. That’s horror movie bait.

You know Grant. You trust him. All he needs is to clean himself up.

He checks behind him again. The same mix of seeking approval or seeking the cover of ignorance returns to his pretty features, and he trots over to the passenger seat of the car, plastic bag in hand.

He helps you bring in the groceries and supplies from town even though you point him in the direction of the upstairs bathroom immediately. There’s a big jacuzzi tub in there, and he is welcome to soak for however long he wants. You’ll even wash his clothes in the mean time, if he’d like.

Grant seems hesitant to accept or argue.

You press on.

Showing him where everything is in the bathroom takes a minute. You fish around a cupboard for the muscle-relaxing milk additive, explaining it may help him…if needed. You don’t know what’s happened, so you’re flying blind for options.

When the tap turns off ten minutes later, silence descends, but he never handed you stuff to wash. You knock and try the door, just to crack it open so he can hear you.

First, you notice the color of the water. He used the milk bath alright, but whatever washed immediately off him has saturated and soured the clean white into a rusty tan. Second, you pick up the pile of clothes and find more in the plastic bag, except…it’s a suit with a star decal half-ripped and dangling from the chest. Third, you realize you can’t see him in the water at all, not his feet, not his head, no bubbles, so you rush in and shove your hands beneath the surface.

He shoots up in alarm, gasping and sloshing to a different wide, rounded corner of porcelain.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you shriek, hands out and spread wide. “I just thought—I don’t know—I didn’t know if you’d—sorry!”

He rubs his hands down his face and over his dripping hair. He doesn’t even speak; he just waves for you to stop apologizing and clears water shot up his nose.

You have to collapse to the fuzzy rug and hold your heart before it beats right out of your ribcage. You still repeat “sorry” a few more times and then manage an impressed “wow, you kept all the water in.”

He thunks his head back to the lip of the tub and props up one leg, his knee cresting the surface. “I have a talent…”

The dirt, despite how much clearly came off already, is smeared grossly across him.

He looks so tired.

“May I—“ you grab the shampoo bottle all the way at his feet “—help?”

Defeated in more ways than one, he nods through the same concerned and confused gaze that’s become his signature. He maneuvers nearer you while you carefully wet your hands, starting a lather. His head stays down, spine exposed, as you massage at the base of his skull.

His eyes shut.

Your heart now swells with accomplishment; you gave this man a moment of peace.

Fingers gliding over the sinewy, tight bands beneath soft hairs, you press circles around and around his scalp. He cranes backwards while you move up and over the crown of his head, and by just above his ears, he’s laying his full weight in the water, lax against the rim.

You keep going long after his hair is strictly clean, though you’ll recommend he rinse after soaking because the water is too foul to count on.

He remains quiet, so you dip your hands in the water at his shoulders, shake them about, and move on to scrubbing his face clean, too, working down from the hairline and over his beard.

Somewhere around his throat, the man sniffs.

He sniffs again, raising a hand from the water to stop yours.

“My name isn’t…” His eyes open finally, only to stare blankly at the ceiling. “My name is Steve.”

“Okay,” you say, abandoning the washing to sit back on the mat again. “Do you want me to call you that or Grant?”

He turns, brows furrowed, and in the most authoritative voice, he replies, “you can’t tell anyone.”

You rest your chin on the lip of the tub, too. “I know. I won’t.”

Eyes locked, you two stare at each other for a long beat.

“The Captain America suit kinda gave it away though,” you whisper, and to your surprise and delight, Steve flicks water at you in retaliation.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, “handle yourself in here while I go start the laundry.”

You stretch and almost—almost—kiss his forehead because, for whatever reason, that feels right, but at the last second you tuck your head down, acting like you were just standing up. You can’t bring yourself to look back at him while gathering the clothes.

You keep busy downstairs, scrubbing at a few spots of caked on muck, trying not to listen to the sounds of splashing, the squeaking as he moves around, the rush of the draining bath, and the tap turning back on to rinse him again. You scramble to find the biggest t-shirt and pair of pants you own (although, come to think of it, Steve’s got fairly small hips, so you grab some stretchy sweats) and hand them through the door when realizing he has nothing else to wear.

He emerges with several visible cuts and scrapes but dismisses your offer to treat them.

“It’s not worth the effort. They’ll be gone by morning.”

You’ve decided something: if he doesn’t bring it up, you won’t either.

Whatever he wants to tell you, whenever he wants to tell it, you don’t ask. You are used to keeping guests’ confidence—not that anyone tells you deep, dark secrets, but you refuse to gossip about cleanliness or things in the trash—and ‘Grant’ will be no different.

You can, however, still tease him.

“Ready to share that queen bed with Tom?” You give his beefy arm a playful punch.

Steve groans.

“Kidding,” you beam. “I’m not making you walk that path in the dark right now. An elk could get ya!”

He pinches tired eyes, a ghost of a smirk realigning the hairs of his beard. You imagine that on any other day, he would put up more of a fight, but he’s fought enough.

“Yeah, okay. As long as I won’t scare the daylights out of your parents by being on the couch in the morning.” Steve steps over to the landing at the top of the stairs.

“They’re at a hospitality conference. I run the place…mostly. Besides, what kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer you a bed that fits you?” You dramatically bow and indicate your room. “This way, please, sir.”

Good thing he has no fight left in him. His eyes narrow adorably, but he doesn’t budge.

“I should let Tom know.”

“There is a phone in there, too. I’ll dial room eight.”

You get him some water, hanging his clothes to dry, offering as much privacy as you can in an old house with thin walls.

“Yeah, hi, it’s…yes, yes, I’m… Yeah, I know. I know, Sam, just—you don’t have to laugh about it. She let me use the bath, is all. You’re the one who—Well, don’t take all the damn wa—hello? Hello?” Steve is staring at the receiver of the land line when you appear in the doorway. “Uh, he…gets it.”

He sits on the edge of your bed, glancing around your neither childish nor sterile room. You put the glass down on your side table instead of handing it to him.

“Okay, I think you need rest,” you add, sweeping your hand down his bare arm.

You marvel at how the edges of his cuts are already shrinking, knitting back together in near-realtime. Your fingertips trace around the skin like an interactive roadmap.

First heal this, then he needs this, and this is deeper here.

You wonder whether he feels pain the same as everyone else. Is it dulled? Does he just have to ignore how much and how frequently he hurts because it goes away sooner? That’s a sad thought to you. Just because he’ll be okay, doesn’t mean he should suffer more.

He’s a miracle. As Grant, Steve, Cap, or nobody at all, he’s still a miracle.

“You don’t have to go…”

The last of the evening blurs as you wake, but you remember Steve needed this. He asked you to stay.

Spooning is the only way to fit on the bed together. After finishing your own bedtime routing, you began behind the giant man, curled tight, lightly scratching over his broad shoulders and arms. He fell asleep so quickly, and you don’t recall how long after that you both turned over. You had to drape Steve’s awkward arm around you, show him he could hold you close, assure him he can be as comfortable as he likes.

Whichever way he settled is infinitely better than falling off the bed, and you’re grateful he’s accommodating in a small space. You suppose he has to be. Though, for a man as dense as a brick wall, he is shockingly pliant around you.

Shame you have to stretch, ruining the picture of fitting puzzle pieces you’ve become.

Arms out and legs long, you roll, restless on the one side for too long in the night. Steve shifts around your moves, laying his head on your arm instead of the pillow. His arm that was your pillow wedges down by your waist instead.

Your knees knock his, so even in sleep, he lets them slot through, legs entangled and…his erection laying over your thigh, the tip poking your hip.

Your body tenses for a split second, the muscles of your leg brush harder against his cock, and Steve groans softly, the arm draped over you pulling your body closer.

He’s still asleep, breathing easy, his features totally relaxed.

His golden hair shines in the early light, and he’s so, so beautiful.

You move stray locks from his face, enjoying how he nuzzles and sighs as you play. Quiet, lazy touches.

His hips nudge forward for friction. His fingers grab at your nightshirt. One of his shifts angles his length to drive against your mound instead, and you gasp involuntarily, having smothered your excitement for too long.

He stirs, a heavier, longer breath followed by Steve's whole body going rigid and his eyes squeezing shut. He tries to bury his face in your arm, and you can’t help it. You hope he’ll continue.

You shush him, carding through his hair to soothe him as you did in the bath.

There’s nothing wrong.

He can feel good.

He should feel good.

You want him to feel good. Hell, you don’t say it, but you need to make him feel good.

Steve still won’t face you. He leans closer, shielding himself with your chest, but he doesn’t pull his hips away.

You can hear him thinking through his options groggily, and in your nervousness, you pull at the fistful of hair in your hand.

Steve whimpers and juts his pelvis forward.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Did you like that? Does that feel nice, Stevie?”

His abs flutter with a spasming exhale, but he says nothing. His rough hands dig into your back while he desperately seeks more friction.

You let him—you encourage him—to keep going.

“Whatever you need…it’s okay.”

He pants into your skin, making you sweat while he dissolves into a mewling mess of shame, taking what he deserves.

He bends his leg for leverage, the sole of his foot pressing flush to your calf. You feel his thumping heartbeat along all of your skin that touches his. He swallows moans which sound hollow and deep where they die in his chest before Steve grunts and stretches, the whole underbelly of his cock rubbing your inner thigh and baiting your clit mercilessly with almost-contact.

You release his hair, asking “do you want my han—”

But it’s too late.

Steve seizes you in his last moments hard before he stills, palms so wide you’ll feel the marks over an entire shoulder blade and the breadth of skin from your ass to your ribcage.

You yelp, the nails of your trapped hand clawing at the sheets around you. It’s a good pain. It’s worth it to witness how his body melts into yours after he comes. He’s lax and heavy, pathetic convulsions of ecstasy subsiding.

You’re only just starting to feel the wet fabric on your thigh when he peels away and rushes to the bathroom.

The best thing for him is to act normal. It is normal for him to be hard in the morning, to want contact and satisfaction, and the truth is it’s perfectly normal for you to dream of providing that for him. You want that contact with him. You are satisfied when he is satisfied.

That's scary because it's a secret as hidden from you both as his identity now, but you won't talk about it. If he doesn't ask, then he doesn't want the answer. It's better that way.

So that was okay, and this is okay.

It's okay, and you tell him when you bring his gym clothes back to the door. You repeat it as he walks out of your home unable to look you in the eye, his partially-destroyed past life wadded up in a fresh plastic bag.

At the bottom of the porch steps, he turns, still focused on the ground.

“Thank you for the…the bath.”

You can’t tell anyone about him—about how you feel for him—not even him. It wouldn’t be right. He doesn’t want that.

“I’m glad you feel better, Grant.”

A/N: Google, Play 'Hopelessly Devoted To You.' *starts weeping some more*

[Next Part: Sensitive Boy, Part I]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

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cinnajun · 9 months

Text

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: waking up with zb1

a/n: anon who requested this i saw the req and i actually felt my third eye opening ty for your service

notes: yujin is not included due to his age!, university au for gunwook’s

wc | 4.0k

jiwoong

jiwoong wakes up before you about 95% of the time

he seems like the type of guy who just … wakes up at the same time every day, no matter how late he went to sleep the night before

body clock and all that

so i imagine jiwoong wakes up at around 7, but he doesn’t move for a good 15 minutes

during these 15 minutes he makes an important judgment call: do you want to sleep or do you want him to wake you up

he’s your personal alarm so he’ll have to wake you up at some point, it just depends on when and how he’s going to do that

sometimes you get offended when he lets you sleep, other times you will ignore him trying to wake you and continue slumbering until you smell whatever he decides to cook for breakfast

this is the most stressful decision of his day 99.9% of the time

if you wake up, you will copy his morning routine while half asleep and then doze off at the dining table until the food is ready

if you sleep, he will wake up you when the food is ready

it’s lowkey incredibly exciting for you when you wake up before him, mostly because of how infrequent it is

you’ll lord it over him for the rest of the day like it was some sort of competition in the first place LOL

he’ll be like “just set an alarm?” but that doesn’t count because he’ll wake up, too

he doesn’t understand the joys of waking up before your boyfriend who’s a responsible adult that wakes up at 7 am without even an alarm

WHEN YOU WAKE UP, you can see the light coming through your eyelids, but your brain screams at you to just go back to sleep. You begin to turn onto your other side, trying to find a new comfortable position so you can go back to your dreamland when something occurs to you.

There’s an arm draped over your middle, unmoving. You don’t hear anything but rhythmic breathing, too—no chuckles, no sighs, nobody saying your name softly.

So, your eyes rip open, immediately assaulted by the sunlight coming through your blinds. Once the shock ends, though, you’re met with the sight of Jiwoong, dead asleep in front of you. His hair is messy and his mouth is slightly ajar, his eyes are shut and his face is somewhat puffy from a full night of sleep. The sight is mesmerizing, and you bask in how beautiful your boyfriend looks, even in the morning.

Then, after a few minutes, you get to scheming.

It takes everything in you to suppress the manic giggle sliding up your throat, and, as slowly as you possibly can, you pick his arm up off your side and drop it back onto the bed.

I am going to make the best breakfast in the world, you think, scuttling out of the bedroom while you think about how exciting it is that you finally woke up before he did.

zhang hao

i imagine you wake up before zhang hao most of the time

he seems like the type of guy to be absolutely dead to the world when he’s asleep idk

you make it a point to go to bed before him too so you don’t have to listen to his snoring

i feel like hao likes being the little spoon </3 so i imagine you wake up with him nestled right up to you like a cat

of course it takes everything in you to not start screaming and crying over how cute he is

as aforementioned hao is a deep sleeper so most of the time you get up and start your day, and you only wake him up if he asked you to the night before

usually, hao will wake up when you’re sipping your morning drink of choice and scrolling through your phone on the couch

and he’ll waddle out and collapse on top of you :( head on your chest and arms wrapped around your middle … and then he goes back to sleep ON you

you’re rendered unable to move for the next half an hour so hopefully you have nowhere to be

when hao wakes up (rare, special event!) before you he doesn’t think much of it lol

usually, he just takes it as an invitation to lay in bed with you for longer

then he’ll get bored and wake you up “so you can chat”

“do i ever wake you up to chat?”

“no but i’m me”

then you’ll listen to him ramble on for a good twenty minutes while you try to wake up

he ends his little rambling session by giving you a big kiss and then getting up for the day

he’s so perfect lol

YOU WAKE UP to Hao’s finger on your cheek and his face inches away from yours, which scares you so bad that you yelp and jerk back. Hao frowns, jutting his bottom lip out as if he didn’t just wake you up at 7:30 in the morning.

“Why are you up so early?” you manage to choke out, cringing at the way you’ve woken up feeling.

“I don’t know, but I have a question,” he says, inching closer to you so his head is now on your pillow. “Do you think the government has actually found aliens and they’re just not telling anyone? Like, is that possible?”

“Huh? Why are you asking?”

“Just think about it,” he says as if there’s anything you can manage to think about at 7:30 in the morning. “Would they be able to pull that off without us knowing?”

“How would I know? I mean, maybe? If they tried hard enough?”

Hao hummed in response, tapping on his chin. “Okay. You can go back to bed."

hanbin

things are pretty middle of the road when it comes to hanbin

you could wake up first, or he could, or you wake up at around the same time

i think he has a daily alarm so whenever that goes off, if you’re both still sleeping, you’re both waking up at the same time

then there’s your allotted morning hanbin time

he doesn’t strike me as someone who wakes up quickly, so he’ll turn his alarm off and then cuddle up to you

i think he’d prefer sleeping face-to-face so most of the time your face is either buried in his chest or vice versa

at some point, he will begin the day with a “good morning beautiful” or a solid “i missed you” and it kind of feels like being punched in the stomach (he’s so UGHHGHGGH)

and he’ll ask how you slept, how you’re feeling, what you’re doing that day, etc … and you’ll do the same ofc

he’s very gentle in the mornings and he has a severe case of pink cheeks so he’s adorable to you

i see hanbin as the type of guy who likes doing his morning routine with you so you’ll get up together, brush your teeth together, wash your face, and all the different things

but i think he really really likes it when you cook him breakfast

it’s kinda odd but he will literally eat anything you put in front of him … like it could be a plate of salt and he’d be like “mmm this is delicious”

he will sit and watch you cook with a silly little grin on his face

he’s so sung hanbin

this guy is fatal

HANBIN FOLLOWS YOU to the kitchen like a chick, and, the moment you walk behind the counter, he’s immediately sitting on a stool, head resting on his arms.

“What do you want to eat?” you ask, opening the fridge to survey your options. You had plenty of eggs, and you had quite a few bread spreads that could make good toast. You had an avocado left, too, which meant you just needed to hear from your boyfriend to start cooking.

“Whatever you want.”

“Savory or sweet?”

“I could do either.”

You sigh, wondering what you were expecting. So, you take the carton of eggs from the fridge and place it next to the stove, putting a pan on and turning up the heat. You hear the sound of the stool screeching behind you and, a second later, Hanbin is wrapping his hands around your waist. You feel the weight of his head on top of yours, and you’re almost melting at the gesture.

“How do you want your eggs cooked?”

“I don’t care.”

The moment is instantly ruined by the answer, and you sigh in exasperation. “Oh my god, please just pick a type of egg. Scrambled. Over easy. Sunny side up. I will do anything, please just pick.”

matthew

matthew is another guy who wakes up before you

except he wakes up to go to the gym so when you wake up, he’s gone and there’s a little note on your nightstand telling you when he’s going to get back and how much he loves you

good news is he comes back with food so you two are NEVER cooking in the mornings

spiritually i just know that matthew is an acai bowl guy so he comes back with two of those and then you both chow down

but i think, on special occasions, he will sleep in (when this happens, he’s usually not in the mood to go to the gym), and you’ll usually wake up before him when this happens

and i think matthew treats you like his own personal teddy bear so you wake up, arms around you and head on his chest while he’s snoring away

usually, you’re good to just lay there for a while until you start getting a cramp from the way he’s holding you

you’ll try to wiggle out but it’s no use, he’s got you in an unbreakable grip

so you’re left laying there, whisper-yelling “matthew!!! matthew!!!!”

at this point you haven't even seen his face yet, just his arms iron-locked around your waist and whatever else of him that you aren’t laying on top of

finally, you give up the whispering and just flat-out yell his name, which scares the shit out of him

he lets go and you roll off of him, sighing in relief at the feeling of your cramp beginning to go away

“what was that for?”

“leg cramp”

you and matthew will proceed to not move for the next 30 minutes to an hour, with there being small conversation interspersed throughout

FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, you wake up to Matthew laying next to you, rather than you laying on top of you. He’s laying on his stomach, practically face down on his pillow, with one hand on your hip and the other jutting off the side of the bed.

You giggle at him, wondering how he ended up laying like this when he usually has you locked up in his embrace. You reach behind you as steadily as you can, feeling around your nightstand for your phone so you can take a picture.

Once you manage to grab it, you quickly turn it on, but your plan is interrupted by two things. One, it’s nearly 10 in the morning, and, two, you have three texts from Gyuvin that were sent over an hour ago, asking where Matthew was.

It takes a moment of thinking for you to realize that he’d probably slept through his alarm, leaving Gyuvin completely in the dark. You lightly poke his bicep once, and when you get no reaction, you go again, but a bit firmer this time. Matthew doesn’t even stir.

“Matthew? Hello?” you ask, but nothing. So, your only solution is to half-yell his name, which causes his eyes to fly open.

“Oh my god, what?”

“You blew off Gyuvin.”

The moment you say that he’s up and on his phone, frantically typing while you laugh at him.

taerae

i actually think you wake up before taerae nearly 100% of the time

with the newfound news that he’s a gamer, i actively think he’s probably up way later than you and doesn’t get up until like noon

because of that, if you wake up earlier in the morning, you’re either waiting 70 years for him to rise from the dead or you’re getting up without him

he’s not that hard to detach from either, as long as you replace yourself with a stuffed animal you’re good

and 90% of the time you’re the one holding onto him so it’s not that big of a deal

sometimes you’ll be eating lunch when he finally emerges and then he’ll just eat the rest of your lunch

but he always greets you and asks how your morning was :) it’s very endearing

however, when taerae wakes up before you, it’s quite literally like he just won the lottery

he treats it like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him (similar to things with jiwoong tbh)

gets up and takes 80,000 pictures of you so he can tell everyone the good news

he attempts to make you breakfast in bed but, when he’s gone for too long, your spidey senses go off and you wake up like “oh my god where is my boyfriend he’s GONE”

so you go searching for him and find him partying it up in the kitchen

and then he gets upset at you because he had a tray ready and everything

the big event is when you wake up around the same time though

usually, it’s because you both got really drunk the night before

neither of you are happy but at least you have each other

YOU WAKE UP TO a pounding headache and a slight bit of nausea, which is something absolutely no one wants to wake up to. Taerae is lying in front of you on his back, arm over his eyes and a look of utter displeasure on his face.

“How did we get home?” was your first question, realizing that you didn’t remember anything after shotgunning an entire drink after someone told you they thought you couldn’t.

“Hanbin drove us,” he groaned, voice deep and hoarse from the sleep you just endured. You looked at the clock and realized it was 2 in the afternoon, which made you feel even worse without you trying.

Regret begins to soak into your skin as you shuffle closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking your head into his chest. He weakly puts an arm around you, too, and you can tell he’s feeling the same way.

“Let’s never do that again,” you propose, which causes Taerae to laugh. His chest rumbling actually relieves your headache a bit, although you’re unsure as to why.

“You say that every time we go out.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.”

He scoffs, and you tighten your hold on him. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

ricky

with ricky it’s also a big 50/50

except he wakes up at the same time every day, with no exceptions

he goes to bed at the same time, too

he will never sacrifice his routine and every time circumstances have him waking up earlier than usual, he’s unhappy and quiet

but when he’s on schedule he will continue his schedule whether or not you’re awake

you can’t really blame him because you’d kill to be as put together as he is

so when you wake up before him you really treasure it

ricky is a beautiful sleeper, he never stops serving face

you’ve never managed to catch him looking ugly while sleeping and you’re beginning to think it’s quite literally impossible

you’ve shown your friends pictures and they’re always in awe…how does he just look like that even when he’s entirely unconscious

i think he likes to sleep near you but not necessarily cuddle

he’s mostly fine with you just being next to him, but he won’t push you off if you happen to latch onto him in the night or anything

so you usually wake up facing him with him facing you, perhaps a knee touching or something

and you ogle at him until he wakes up and goes “what are you staring at” like hello??? you, you beautiful loser

when he wakes up before you, he will wake you up when he finishes making food. always has a plate ready for you :)

very cute guy overall

YOU WAKE UP to Ricky standing over you, already completely ready for his day. He’s gotten dressed and done his hair up, and all of his jewelry on.

“Morning, princess,” he hums, and, as you come to, you realize you can smell something cinnamony coming from the kitchen. “I made breakfast if you want to come eat.”

You mumble a string of incoherencies, pushing yourself up from your comfortable position and staring at the wall for a second. Then, in what could only be described as laziness, you look at Ricky and hold your arms up. He stares at you for a second, confused as to what you’re asking for, but gets it after a couple of seconds.

He lifts you up from the bed in one fell swoop, and you wrap your legs around his waist, putting your head in the crook of his neck. You’d never felt more content in your life, and, briefly, you wondered how you managed to get yourself a Ricky.

But, the moment is over all too soon, and he’s putting you in a chair, walking over to where you assume were the premade cinnamon rolls he’d put together. “How many do you want?”

gyuvin

gyuvin strikes me as the type of guy to love sleepovers

aka you stay up until like 4 in the morning doing god knows what, and then you don’t wake up until 2 in the afternoon

and most of the time you’re waking up incredibly disoriented because you’ll have fallen asleep pretty much everywhere but your bed

once you fell asleep on a couch outside and woke up to the worst sunburns of your life

sometimes you’re laying on top of him on the couch while the TV plays the 10th hallmark movie of the day

other times you’re asleep on the floor with literally no recollection of how you got there

you’ll always have intense back and neck pain for the rest of the day though so don’t worry

but, in the off chance you two actually made it to a bed (which only happens when you have ‘girl night,’ aka you do face masks and watch mean girls), i think gyuvin is nice to wake up with

he’s the type of guy to wrap literally all of his limbs around you and trap you in a leg-and-arm cage

he’s tall and lanky and doesn’t like the fact that his feet go off the edge of your bed so obviously the solution is to just entrap you

and he’s not an incredibly heavy sleeper so he’ll notice you woke up and wake up too

the sleepover antics continue with the two of you going over every important notification you missed while you were asleep, sometimes including entire events you missed

“oh i forgot i was planning on going to lunch with gunwook and yujin…oh well”

sometimes you miss classes even though the night before you’re swearing to him that you’re not going to stay up super late and miss them

after that, you go about your day like normal

and plan to do it all again that night too

WHEN YOU WAKE UP, the first thing you notice is the extreme pain in your neck. Then, you notice the fact that you’re not laying down, rather, you’re sitting up with your back against the wall, your computer open and dead in front of you.

You then feel the weight of Gyuvin’s head on yours, and the feeling of his shoulder under your head. Your stirring wakes him up—you can feel it—and suddenly he’s groaning about how bad his neck hurts. “What were we even doing?” you asked, swiping your fingers on the mousepad of your laptop. It doesn’t turn on, and you decide to attempt to sit up straight. In the process, a bunch of pops come from your back, which feel awful and good simultaneously.

“I don’t remember,” he said, a slight strain to his voice. “I think we were binging the, like, golden buzzer videos. Right? Isn’t that it?”

“I don’t know.”

You turn to see Gyuvin stretching, most likely trying to rid himself of the pain from sleeping like you had. For some reason, the sight causes you to burst into laughter, which causes him to do the same. And, for a few moments, the two of you sit there, cracking up at nothing but each other.

gunwook

the third routine haver of zb1 after matthew and ricky

he’s awful at sticking to it though

you and gunwook wake up at the same time because his alarm (titled “wake up and go to the gym”) wakes the two of you up

because he’s only 18, you’re not living together, so you aren’t really used to waking up with him lol

also because of your youth, when you’re waking up with each other, it’s often in his twin XL dorm bed

so you’re laying on top of him practically and you’re sharing one pillow

it’s really not comfortable but gyuvin, his roommate, spent the night at ricky’s so you didn’t want to pass the opportunity up

you both regret it the moment you wake up cause you’re sweaty and gross LOL

usually, you’re the first one to sit up, mostly because he can only get up once you have

but then you spend like 30 minutes just sitting up on the bed holding hands

you’ll ask what time gyuvin is gonna get back and he just shrugs

neither of you wants to get up literally every time this happens so by the end of the 30 minutes you’re back to laying down

except your head is on his chest and he’s got his arms around you

then you lay there for another hour until gunwook gets a text that gyuvin’s on his way up because he forgot his wallet and he and ricky want to go out

gyuvin CANNOT see you in the room because he’ll make fun of the both of you endlessly

you’re both super awake now

panic ensues

YOU PRACTICALLY FLY off the bed the moment you read the text, Gunwook following quickly after you. You whip your head around the room, looking for a place to hide from the monster that is now quickly approaching your safe haven.

Under the bed is too obvious, and too open, so Gyuvin would easily be able to see you. Under the desk isn’t big enough, nor is it covering enough, so there’s only one option for you, and Gunwook has already beaten you to it. He’s throwing the closet door open, ripping a shirt and jeans from inside, while you practically nose dive in.

Gunwook slams it shut, and there are mere seconds until you hear the door unlock and open. Your heart is pounding as you hear Ricky greet Gunwook, and Gyuvin rustling through his stuff.

“Oh, [First] isn’t here?” Gyuvin asks, sounding genuinely bewildered.

“Isn’t she probably just hiding?” Ricky counters and your heart drops. Gunwook laughs, and you hope they can’t tell it’s incredibly panicked.

“Should we look?”

It goes silent, Gunwook offering another awkward laugh. “Nah, just kidding. See you later, man.”

The moment the door opens and closes, your body deflates in relief, and Gunwook opens the closet door, letting you back out into the world.

thank you for reading !

tags: @happysmileybee @wtfhyuck

#cinna.zb1 #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 scenarios #zb1 fluff #zb1 reactions #zb1 headcanons #jiwoong x reader #zhang hao x reader #hanbin x reader #sung hanbin x reader #seok matthew x reader #taerae x reader #ricky x reader #gyuvin x reader #gunwook x reader #req

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Text

This is the artwork that I commissioned from the talented @mjpens🧡

Stay In Bed has truly been one of my favorite things to write, I am genuinely so emotional over this series and my own relationship with it. I'm still surprised by the feedback and the love, so I would also want to thank everyone for their undying support and enthusiasm for it 🧡🧡🧡

This is from one of the scenes I wrote for chapter 6 and I can't stop staring at it. Thank you Maia for making this come to life, this made me beyond happy 🥺🧡

(I would also like to emphasize that in the story reader does not have a physical description whatsoever. I went the self-indulgent route and asked for it to be a self-insert <3)

the written scene is below the cut for those who are curious 🤭

“How do you like your coffee?”

“With milk,” you answer. “A lot of it, preferably.”

“So milk with a dash of coffee,” he grins, amused. “Got it.”

It’s been a couple of days since you moved in with Joel and Sarah. It was much easier to live with the father-daughter due than you initially had thought. Tommy came over in the mornings, dropping you off to work and Sarah to school, and the brothers went to do their own thing after that.

With Joel’s back turned to you, you look down at your sketchbook and add another line to what is supposed to be his unruly hair. He really needs a haircut.

Surprisingly living with him isn’t weird at all. He made you feel welcome. No awkward glances, no awkward touching. Just neighbors helping each other out. He places the steaming mug next to you and leans on his elbows. He looks at what you’re drawing and raises an eyebrow.

Joel brings the mug to his lips.

“You’re paintin’ me?”

“I’m sketching you,” you answer. “You’re a lovely specimen.”

“Is that so.”

The scent of coffee fills your lungs. Lifting your gaze, you observe his facial structures. You see the imperfections, take in the sight of his eyes, his bushy eyebrows, and the bald patches in his beard. You want to touch the small beauty park right in the corner of his eye that’s impossible to see unless you’re an inch further away.

If he knew how you saw him—if he knew how big he was in your mind— Joel would be terrified.

“Do you like art?” you ask, taking him by surprise. He takes a sip of his coffee and your gaze drops back to your sketch.

He hums, fingers thrumming the kitchen counter. “I like your art.”

“I should take you guys to an art gallery or something,” you say, smiling. “If you like mine, you’re going to go nuts over the things that are out there.”

Joel pouts and you roll your eyes. “What are you looking at me like that for?” you ask.

“I like your drawings. They’re—They feel close. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

It’s because it’s you who I think of when I create them.

“Do you know Salvador Dali?” you ask, then quickly add. “Or Dorothea Tanning?”

“Sweetheart, the only artist I know is Da Vinci and I’m not even a hundred percent sure he is one.”

“He is,” you affirm him excitedly, looking back up. “I love surrealism. It’s when everything gets really weird basically. So—wait let me show you. I think I have a couple of pictures between the pages.”

You miss the way Joel’s lips slowly curl up, adoration and fondness adorning his face, softening the edges. He comes closer. Your pulse quickens as your fingers rush to find the images, and when they do you basically rip them out from between the pages

“Look.”

All of them are images from Dali’s artwork. Mainly butterflies. Joel observes them carefully, touching them as if fearing he might stain them. You urge him to take a closer look by placing one between his thick fingers. It’s The Butterfly Rose.

“Never thought you would do homework for a hobby.”

“It’s not—” You let out an exasperated sigh, cutting yourself off mid-sentence. “Do you think I want to work at the coffee house forever? It’s not just a hobby. And of course, as an artist, I look at other art to be inspired. They make me feel things.” Seeing the startled expression on his face, you add, “Don’t you get like…shivers or something when you see a very nice wooden table?”

Oh, you made him uncomfortable. You sense that in an instant. His fingers trace the image of the painting, looking down, you notice the crease between his brows deepening with concentration. Was he concentrating on the image? In your words? You have no idea—the only thing you know is that this man concentrating on art is making your insides clench with a need.

“Sorry,” he grumbles. “I didn’t mean it like that. I do think you’re a serious artist. It’s just…fuck that came out wrong. I just didn’t think you would put in this much effort to somethin’ I said,” he shakes his head. “Shit, I’m bad at this.”

That undeniable need to touch him comes rushing back. You bite the inside of your bottom lip instead. “ I think I might’ve overreacted after hearing the same thing from my brother all the time. It’s all good. You might be the only one that takes me seriously so it was unfair for me to jump to conclusions like that.”

“He don’t support you?”

“He does…” you trail off. “In his own way, I guess.”

“That doesn’t sound like support,” he answers, clicking his tongue. “And just FYI I like your butterflies better, sweet tea.”

“Sweet tea?” you ask, lips curling with amusement and eyes widening with shock.

He shrugs. “You said you liked Dorothea…somethin’---”

“Tanning.” you quickly say. “So Sweet Tea as in…the last syllable of her name?”

“Would you rather I call you Tea?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope!” you grin, your heart elevated. “Sweet Tea is perfect.”

With a soft smile, Joel places the picture in front of you and gently taps on it.

“Well then, Sweet Tea,” he says. “Tell me more about this surrealism thing.”

#stay in bed #art commission #commissioned art #personal #tlou art #joel miller art

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hischierdevils · 1 year

Note

I’m begging for when Y/N and Nico have their baby

It was the conference finals and you were up in the box with the rest of Nico’s family. You’d gone on maternity leave early, not wanting you and your big bump to be in the way.

Your due date was two days ago but your son wasn’t showing any signs of joining you yet. That was until the second period, of course, when your Braxton-hicks contractions you’ve been experiencing for days started getting worse.

Nina is the first one that notices your discomfort. “Y/n, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” You smile at her as you place your hands on your bump, silently telling your son to wait for the end of his dad’s game. “He’s just moving around a lot today.”

“He’s excited for his papa.” Nico’s father says as you stand up, hoping moving around will help.

As Nico gets on the ice for his shift, Dougie passes the puck from deep in the defensive zone, giving Nico a breakaway. The entire box gets to their feet as you watch your fiancé deke the goalie and score.

Luca turns to you to give you a high-five but stops when he sees the look on your face. “Is it time?”

“My water just broke.” You confirm as you feel the wetness on your legs.

It’s chaos as the family gets you out of the box. All of them extensively getting grilled this morning about your birth plan by Nico did nothing to prepare them for the excitement.

You plead with them not to tell Nico until the game is over, not wanting to pull him away from the biggest game of his career so far.

You’re in active labor by the time he gets to your hospital room, still wearing some of his hockey gear. “I’ve been waiting for him for days. He couldn’t wait another period?”

You start to laugh but it comes out as a strangled cry as another contraction hits. Nico rushes to your side, holding your hand and pushing your hair out of your face as you breathe through it. “You got him excited with that goal.”

Nico smiles and kisses your forehead. “I love you so much.”

A strong contraction rips through you as the doctor walks into the room. “Who’s ready to have a baby?” You’re terrified as you look at Nico but he just smiles at you and squeezes your hand. If he’s by your side you can do anything.

After twenty minutes of pushing, Nico cuts the umbilical cord and holds your crying baby for the first time. There’s tears in his eyes as he walks over to you. “That’s your mama, Alexander Luca. Isn’t she beautiful? We’re the luckiest guys in the world.”

#forget series #nico hischier blurb #blurb #my writing

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seas1mping · 4 months

Text

ReenaJack pt. 2

Summary: Christmas is always rough for LJ, but Reenas never celebrated it anyway. (Ft. Doll Kids)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, LJ has a mini panic attack, oc self insert (God that's so cringe righ), children??? If you don't like the idea of second generation you're wack but that's here too

Jack reached over to turn his wife's fourth alarm off—seriously, who needs that many alarms—and let his arm flop on top of her. She made a small noise before returning back to her peaceful slumber. Jack considered removing her alarms if she was just going to sleep through them all, when he was startled by her eyes looking right at him.

"You know," she started, "you don't have to turn them off yourself, I wake up on the second one just to see what you do to the third and fourth." Her cheeky smile ended her confession, the sleep in her voice still poking through, so obviously she lied about 'waking up on the second.'

His eye twitched. She wants to play a game so early in the morning? "Well obviously I'm going to turn them off, Lord knows you need the beauty rest." Reena gasped at him, grabbing the pillow under his head and raising it to hit him. "Sugar, you know I'm kidding! I would never say anything against you!"

Though, with the lack of an effort to defend himself, Reena still manages to snag him once with the pillow, hearing the rip of the fabric and pulling it away from him to see the stuffing on his sharp nose. "I know. I just wanted to do that." She sticks her tongue out before throwing the covers off and getting out of bed.

Reena sits at her vanity for a moment, Jack can see her staring at herself. Her brow creases as she itches at one of the scars on her shoulder. She grabs her hair brush and gets rid of her bedhead.

"So, Jack," this is never good, "I was wondering if you wanted to take the kids out to that Christmas thing out in the city. I think Molly said it was a parade? I don't know, sometimes it's so hard to tell with her accent if I say things right." Reena mumbles to herself, trying to find a good point between her hair and her bangs to put her horns.

It's not that Jack doesn't like Christmas, or that he doesn't want to spend time with the dolls—he hangs out with most of them constantly anyway—its the fact of what Christmas feels like to him.

A reminder that he failed the one duty he had because some idiot got the wrong hobby.

"Babe, are you seriously moping right now? This has to be a record for you."

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Reena, who was standing over him at this point talking in his face. "Hellooooo earth to Carny down there!"

She pulls him up from his warm spot, tossing him a shirt she got him. "I'm coming with you, I know how bad these holidays are for you. All it takes is one sentence and we can celebrate my people's version of Christmas."

"You don't even know what Christmas is." He scoffs, pulling on pants and clicking his suspenders on. Reena pouts at him, putting her earrings in.

"I do too know what it is! It's the day that you guys get together and show off how much money you have based on the number of gifts you buy each person!" She smiles. Reena was from Down Below, which is what normal people would consider 'Hell' due to its hotter temperatures and devolved society. Some of this world's historical aspects still seem to illude her, such as religion or certain human concepts (and also birds for some reason??)

Jack shakes his head with a smile that he quickly wipes off. "Sure, sugar, we'll go with that."

———

"WOAH!!! This place is HUGE!"

Reena laughs as her oldest son looks around at all the people lined across the busy intersection. They made sure to get a good spot in the middle so that they didn't have to disguise themselves too much. Reena and Jack stood behind their three little boys, Roman, Seth, and Randy, all on leashes, and scanned the area.

Roman was fascinated at the crowds that had formed, and the fact that everything in the real world was so LARGE. Roman was usually in the carnival helping Nari and the other dolls, so he wasn't out too much.

Seth had his headphones on, he clung to the front of Jack's pants quietly, he knew everything was going to be huge, but he didn't think it would be so loud.

Randy, the youngest and still wobbling around, kept yelling at everything. A bug on the ground? Randy has to get down and talk to it. A random dime? Randy has to pick it up and try to eat it. A piece of candy? Okay, that one came from Jack but Randy has to eat it, too.

Suddenly, the loud horn of the firetruck blared through the air, signaling the start of the parade. Roman and Seth were lifted to Jack's shoulders, where they balanced on his shoulder and hands, and Randy was less interested in the parade as he was trying to tangle Reena in his leash, in between mimicking the horns and sirens.

Reena looked at her husband, but it was very evident he wasn't having a good time. Not when everything reminded him of everything. The presents, the boxes, the fake snow, the gifts and candy being thrown at children.

The joy on the faces of all the kids when they get their prizes.

Jack looks back at Reena, with a strange softness, and whispers, "Please."

———

The bakery they stopped at wasn't completely empty, but it was good enough they could find a secluded booth for them all to sit at, the boys doodling on some kids menus they were handed before the waiter left.

"I'm fine, can we just go home?" He had been saying that since they left the immediate parade area. He blamed the boys, saying that Seth didn't like the parade and he didn't want to make him upset. Or that Randy was going to get tripped over and hurt. Or that Reena looked tired anyway and they should have left sooner.

"No, Jack, you're not fine, and I'm not going to let you pretend you are, I need to know what's going on so I can help you. I just want to help you, love." She goes to take the hand she can see shivering, but he flinches and pulls his hand away. He won't look at her, he's focusing on the table, focus on the table so you don't get pulled away from it all, focus, focus, focus—

"Hey, want to do something cool?" She taps him, and then points out the window. "Name me 5 things you see."

He rolls his eyes and looks at her, still shaking and unsteady. "I'm not doing this, Reena. I'm fine."

"Fine then. Three things, the boys don't count."

He huffs and goes back to looking out the window. "I see the cars driving down the road. I see the reflection of your purse in the window, and I see a billboard for Molly's jewelry." she hums, digging into her purse for something.

"Alright," there's a pop of some kind, "name me two things that you feel." His claws rub against the table, feeling the grain in the wood catch his claws sometimes.

"I feel the table. I feel my clothes." A snap, and another pop.

"Good job. Now name me one thing you taste."

"Reena, I don't taste anythi-"

As he goes to face her, she smashes her lips to him, kissing him like she's been wanting to do it all day, and making sure the grape scent and flavor of her lip gloss gets all over him. When she is happy with herself, she pulls away, sneaking one last peck and smiling at him. "Now, what's one thing you taste?"

He licks his lower lip, smiling slightly, his cheeks obviously darkened. He knows the boys are protesting this DISGUSTING display of affection in public nonetheless. But he leans into his wife, who's redder than he is.

"I taste that new lip gloss I got for you a while ago. Always wondered where you put it."

She giggles, pushing him back and leaning on his arm. "I was waiting to surprise you with it, thought it would be a funny thing. Never knew it would be used as a grounding technique."

Jack nods in defeat, she's won this battle, but there's definitely more to come.

#i wrote part of this watching the new aquaman movie #it was mid :/#i also got scratchin melodii and im TERRIBLE at it #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #laughing jack #laughing jack x reader #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta oc #laughing jack x oc

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gojo-simp69 · 2 years

Text

Body Addiction

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝗕𝗢𝗗𝗬 𝗔𝗗𝗗𝗜𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

No One’s POV:

𝗪𝗔𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗨𝗣, 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗗 your arms and revel in the delightful morning stretch. You decide to start the day with a nice shower to wake you up. Your breakfast was some tea and a small dish of eggs. You've been trying to eat less and drink more water but it doesn't last long. After placing your bowl in the sink, a knock at the door makes you turn your head.

When opening the door, your (eye color) eyes widen at the basket on your doorstep. You take it inside your home and examine the snacks that it held.

Chocolate-covered strawberries, expensive candies, and rich tea packets filled the woven basket. The basket was covered in fuchsia roses that wrapped around beautifully. A pink notecard peaked from the top. You rip it off and examine it.

To my goddess

-T

It read. You blushed at the note and teared up a bit at the fact someone had spent so much money on you. But not just anyones spending money on you.

It's the guy you've been seeing...Tengen Uzui.

You met him at the teashop a few days ago...or so you thought it was your first time meeting.

A few days earlier~

The waitress walks up to your booth, placing a small dish with a single (favorite flavor) cupcake on the table. Your head peaked up from your book in curiosity. "Sayaka, I didn't order this. You know I'm on a diet." You remind your friend. "It was the hottie over at table 5 in the back who ordered it. The gentleman with long white hair." She smirks at you.

"He said, and I quote, "Give the thick (hair colored)-haired beauty over there your finest cupcake." And he paid extra for a tea of your choosing so what do ya want?" She pulls out a notepad.

"U-Uh! My usual please." Your shocked state remained even when Sayaka goes to get your order. You turn your head to take a small peak at the man who bought you the dessert and when you do, your eyes widen.

He was hot as hell.

He stared at you, red eyes looking back at yours whilst the unknown man held a genuine smile on his face.

'There's no turning back now! I'm finally interacting with her after all that time watching from afar!' Tengen hides the crazed smirk with a handsome smile when you look at him.

He's waited since your first encounter to talk to you but...he was nervous. You made him nervous for the first time in his life. If you can make him feel like that then, it was meant to be.

You turn your body to face your cupcake and take a bite. The dessert's creamy filling melts on your tongue and satisfies your taste buds.

A presence makes itself known to you when it stands across from you. "Is this seat taken?" A deep silky voice makes asks you, making your heart flutter. "No, it's not." Your voice makes Tengen falter a bit.

This is the first time he's heard your voice and he just begging to hear you scream his name.

After Tengen takes a seat, he introduces himself. "My name is Tengen Uzui, beautiful. What's yours?"

"Y/n L/n. I just wanna thank you for the cupcake-”

"Here's your tea, (Nickname)!" Sayaka puts your usual tea on the table before going back to work.

"And tea!" You finish your sentence with a coy smile, blowing on your tea. Tengen looks at the plate the cupcake use to be on.

"Would you like another cupcake? Any flavor you want?"

"No, it's fine. I shouldn't have had it anyway. I'm on a diet." You smile at Tengen before fever breaks across your face.

'He doesn't need to know that!! Why would you say that?!' You curse yourself.

Uzui's smile faltered slightly at the mention of a diet. 'But why? You should eat what you want when you want. Is someone making you insecure?'

"My apologies. I didn't mean to make it seem like I'm trying to shove food down your throat." He bows his head a bit.

"Of course not, Tengen- oh, is it okay to call you by your first name?" The question flies over his head due to him being too busy obsessing over the way his name fell past your plump lips.

"Ngh~! Tengen~! Harder~! Please! D-Daddy~!" You moan, breast bouncing with the sync of Uzui's rough thrusts.

His cock impales your warm walls over and over as your thick thighs wrap around his muscular waist.

"Tengen, are you okay?" You wave your hand in his face, snapping him out of his lewd daydream. "Yes. It seems your flamboyant looks brought my world to a halt." He smirks at your flustered state.

'Is he...really interested in me?' A forced laugh escapes your lips as you awkwardly play with your hair.

"I know this seems sudden but...would you like to go on a date with me?" Tengen asked.

#yandere tengen uzui #yandere tengen uzui x reader #tengen uzui x reader #bodypositivity #thick reader #chubby reader #tengen uzui x y/n #mature

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xxcallmemaryxx · 2 years

Text

Mountain/GNReader/Rain/Aether

Mountain has to go out for the day, so he leaves you to snuggle up with Rain and Aether. under the cut~

The loud shrill of Mountain's alarm rips you from your comfortable slumber. He, Dew and Swiss are going out today to the town nearby, but want to leave a little early to beat any large crowds, hence… the interruption of your sleep. He quickly rolls over and switches it off. You groan quietly, pressing your face into his back and snaking your hands around his waist from behind. He rolls back over gently and presses himself closer to you,

“Sorry bub, just go back to sleep for me”

You shake your head, as best as you could whilst it's mushed into Mountain's chest. He chuckles slightly, it comes out a little raspy due to his morning voice, which is enough on its own to make you weak.

“Can’t sleep without you”

As a way to coax you back into your peaceful state he starts to run his claws through your hair, and although it settles you greatly, it just isn't enough to put you back to sleep. Mountain sighs a little, feeling kinda guilty that he's about to leave you behind after waking you up for no reason. But he then hears Aether and Swiss chatting in the common room just outside his door, Aether and Rain are staying behind today…

“What if I popped you in Aethers bed? I know how much you love to snuggle with him”

When he feels you nod into his chest, he feels a little better knowing Aeth won't have any trouble getting you back to sleep. So with that he climbs out of bed to put on some clothes and get some stuff together for the day, then he sticks his head outside his bedroom door,

“Aeth, you got room in your bed?”

He stares at Mountain for a moment then catches on to what he's asking,

“Rains in there right now but we've got room for one more” he replies with a soft smile, with a slight nod Mountain slips back into his room and comes over to where you're laying, scooping you up out from under the blankets and safely into his arms. When he gets to Aethers room, he spots Rain curled up on one side of Aethers bed and lays you down next to him. Within seconds Rain has you pulled against him snugly. Mountain leans down to kiss you and Rain softly on the head and says his goodbyes.

“I love you both, see you soon”

And with that he takes his leave. Not long after Aether makes his way back to bed, having seen the other guys off he now has some time to enjoy a sleep in. And who else better to enjoy said sleep in with than his favourite water ghoul and his favourite human. He eagerly slides in behind you, gets comfortable and then snuggles into your back. Sandwiching you between himself and Rain. Within seconds all three of you are snuggled together safely in his bed sound asleep.

#nameless ghouls #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #aether ghoul #the band ghost #ghost band #drabble #marys musings

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itsclydebitches · 2 years

Text

OFMD Party Drabble #5

Prompt: AUs

Warnings: Izzy's use of reclaimed slurs, allusions to the AIDS crisis

A/N: I had so much fun writing this AU yesterday, I simply had to continue it :D

Some young poof had been staring at him since he got on the tube.

Izzy grit his teeth and bore it, well used to people tracing him with their eyes like he’d fucking begged them to. Sometimes it was due to his style: leather, piercings, tattoos, a sharp undercut that had been getting shorter as the years went by, his hair no longer keeping its shape even with the fuck-ton of product he put in it. There were all types in London, but not as many who exuded his level of ‘Fuck You’ into their fifties. Sometimes though it was the burn scars on his right arm. The prominent ‘X’ on his cheek. The way he scowled out at the entire world, apparently tempting others to catch his eye and offer an insincere smile, like humoring him was their good deed for the day.

Or maybe it was the SILENCE = DEATH patch on his jacket.

The boy wasn’t shy about his own identity and no, it wasn’t just because of his god-awful outfit that Izzy knew he would have once worn the same earrings. He would have pegged the boy for a fellow queer based on the crop top, neon shorts, and—fucking hell, were those light-up sneakers?—alone, but Fang had drilled it into his admittedly thick skull that this was a new world they were living in, one where anyone could wear anything without it having a whole fucking code built into it. On the days when Izzy wasn’t seething over the terrible passage of time he was internally, privately rejoicing that none of these kids had to go through the shit he had. Or at least, they had their own, slightly less deadly brand of shit to deal with, but what was progress if it wasn’t some guy showing off enough skin for the strip club, all but sitting in another guy’s lap, on an otherwise average Tuesday morning with no one batting an eye? The staring was as cathartic as it was annoying, though Izzy was inclined to let it pass just this once. Provided the fucking kid didn’t try to tell him off for a pink triangle, or the massive QUEER stitched into his collar. It was too early to deal with babies telling him his identity was ‘problematic’ after four fucking decades of fighting for the confidence to claim it.

You’re being pessimistic again, Fang’s voice whispered and Izzy grumbled into his phone.

He’d just resigned himself to the unwanted, but ultimately harmless attention when the boy stood. He kissed his partner, all but sauntered down the car... and ended up leaning on the pole above Izzy, twiddling his fingers in a ‘hello.’

No, no, no, absolutely fucking not.

“Whatever you’re selling,” he growled, “or preaching, or offering—” Izzy looked up then, making contact with a lazy smirk and glossed lips. “—or think you want to say to me: don’t.”

Impossibly, that smirk got wider. Izzy really was losing his touch if he couldn’t even intimidate the youngins anymore.

“My, my, aren’t we feisty.” The boy jutted out his hip, fiddling with a small scarf like someone had paid him for it, and Izzy prayed that they would crash, freeing him of whatever the hell this morning had become. What the fuck was up with him meeting weirdos lately?

The reminder of Stede brought a pang of disappointment. Izzy ruthlessly shoved it aside.

“You know,” the boy continued, entirely undaunted by Izzy’s glare, “I am tempted to offer you something now. I know Pete wouldn’t mind,” and he jerked his head towards the bald man in a ripped jean vest, smiling at them and—fucking shit—taking a picture. Izzy was halfway out of his seat to confront him when a manicured hand nudged his shoulder. “Easy, easy. You’re Izzy Hands, right?”

Izzy blinked.

These tube rides were getting too fucking surreal.

“...How the hell do you know my name?”

The boy just grinned. “Bingo! Hell yeah, I win the prize. Ah, sorry. I guess that did come across a bit stalker-ish, huh? I’m Lucius, intern at the V&A.” He said that as if it cleared up a goddamn thing. At Izzy’s blank look he said, “The Victoria and Albert Museum?”

“I know what ‘V&A’ stands for, you absolute twat.”

“Okay, jeez, cool your jets. It’s just... that’s where Stede works?” Lucius glanced back at Pete who shrugged, looking lost. “You’re... friends?”

Izzy’s brain had ground to a halt. It was too early. Too little coffee. Too many confusing fuckers with bright clothes and enticing smiles. He was friends with Stede Bonnet? The nosy guy who’d given him a disconnected number?

Yet Lucius was still talking. About how much Stede had gushed about Not A Sailor Izzy during their work hours, to the annoyance of everyone within earshot, to the point where his leather-clad, goatee, “Leave her, Johnny” appearance was pretty distinctive to anyone who’d suffered through Stede’s need to fill the silence. Such an interesting man! So confident! I do hope he’ll call! Except Izzy hadn’t called and now here Lucius was, sharing the same car and considering whether he needed to exact vengeance for his boss.

“Except,” Lucius said slowly, eyeing him up and down, “you don’t look like a guy who flirted and ditched.”

Yeah, because he hadn’t. He wasn’t. Izzy had called that number for a solid two weeks, despite the dead beeping on the other end, because Stede’s stupid, genuine smile had haunted him and Edward was up in arms over meeting the ‘fancy man’ Izzy had found. They’d come closest to being the stalkers, scouring the web for any mention of a Stede Bonnet, but if the man had a social media life, it was too damn deep for them to find. Edward had demanded that they keep trying though, sure that anyone who caught Izzy’s attention, even for a moment, was well worth the effort.

Which was why Izzy still had that stupid strip of paper in his wallet, now creased and sweat-stained. He tore it out and shoved it under Lucius’ nose.

“This Stede Bonnet?” he hissed.

Lucius stared.

“...oh for fuck’s sake. Pete!”

And he was running off, pawing at his boyfriend, eventually coming up with a pen and laboriously writing on the back of the paper, using Pete’s shoulder for leverage. When Lucius returned he looked as if he’d swallowed a spike-laden lemon.

“Did you know,” he grit out, “that Stede’s handwriting makes the clumsiest doctor’s look like perfect print?”

The paper reappeared in Izzy’s hand, Lucius’ looping script now under Stede’s—yes—horrendous chicken scratch. That number, apparently, was a four. And that was a six?

“Fuck off,” Izzy whispered.

“I know.”

“Fuck him.”

“I know!”

They pulled into the next station and with a sudden curse Lucius was scrambling, Pete grabbing their bags and tugging him towards the door. He waved and called out as he was leaving,

“Please fuck him. Or don’t. Just call and put us all out of our misery. And if you decide to go with the not fucking option, feel free to call us instead!”

“Call—?” Izzy stared at Lucius blowing him a kiss, Pete grinning ear-to-ear. “Lucius, I don’t have your fucking number!”

But the doors had already closed.

Half the car was looking at them now. Izzy flipped off the majority before pulling out his phone and taking a picture of the now legible number—just in case. He considered calling Stede now... but no. Best wait until he wasn’t fit to bite the fool’s head off.

Instead, Izzy brought Ed’s messages back up, thumb tracing all those stupid heart emojis.

Good news, Boss—your ‘Project Fancy Man’ is back on track.

#OFMD #Our Flag Means Death #GentleHands #SteddyHands #Izzy Hands #Stede Bonnet #OFMD Party #OFMDfic #might do a whole series #of poor Izzy meeting people on the tube #slowly trying to make the SteddyHands work lol

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rudemaidenswrite · 2 years

Text

One Night Chapter 6

I am trying to write a little more often but this chapter really kicked my butt. I knew were i wanted to get with it but not sure how to get there.But I am happy with this one. So please enjoy.

Word Count: 1096

Warnings: Curse words I think thats about it

Author: Me @bookchic20

As always credit to Gif owner

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Pulling into the bar you put your truck in park and let out a breath that you didn’t even realize you had been holding. Sam reaches over an puts his hand on your shoulder.

“You gonna be, okay?” Sam asks.

“No…Yes…hmmm…I don’t know Sammy. I just don’t know. This is way harder than I ever thought it would be.” You run your fingers through your hair in stress.” Ugh… Okay let’s do this!” You slap your hands on the steering wheel and start to reach for the handle.

Dean and Castiel pull up next to your truck and start heading into the bar with you and Sam. Dean smiling at you as you stay on the other side of Sam as you head in. Dean quickly walks up ahead of you all and grabs the door to hold it open for you all. After you walk in, he follows you in and takes a seat next to you at a table. You all sit there for a while in an awkward silence before a waitress came over and asks you all what you want. Everyone tells her their drink order and then she looks over at you.

“Uh just a water for me please.” You say looking downward trying not to make eye contact with anyone at the table.

As the waitress walks away you can feel Deans eyes on you.

“Water really since when do you get water at the bar.” He chuckles to himself.

“Oh, I uh….um.” You start before Cass interrupts.

“Dean I do believe that a person who is with child should not drink alcohol isn’t that right?” He looks to Sam.

“Uh…” Sam mutters Out.

“With Child?” Dean starts looking over towards Cass and then back to you.

It feels like time freezes around you for but a moment.

Flashback 3ish Months ago

You felt like garbage, you missed your friends, and you really missed Dean. You had to ruin everything by sleeping with him. No, you ruined it by leaving. If you had stayed, you both would have got up the next morning and laughed it off and all would have been fine. Well, you would have had to pretend it was all fine. You had felt a certain kind of way about him for a while, but you knew that you would only ever be friends. He had girls throwing themselves at him everywhere you all went. It made having feelings for him even worse, and that is precisely why you shoved those feeling deep deep down and never let them out. Well except for that one night not so long ago. It was such an amazing night even better than you had ever imagined, and you had imagined it.

All of a sudden you jump up and run to the tiny motel bathroom again, before emptying the contents of your already empty stomach again. That’s all you have been doing the last couple days and it was driving you nuts. You were so paranoid you had even went to the dingy little drug store around the corner and bought a pregnancy test. Its sitting on the edge of the sink just staring at you just mocking you telling you to pee on it already. Sighing you grab it and rip the box open before sitting down to pee. After you do you sit it back down on the sink edge and look at the time. This is going to be the longest five minutes of your life.

You start passing in front of the beds glancing at the clock every so often. Seconds going by like hours, time has never moved so slow. It doesn’t really matter though its going to be negative anyway. You can’t be pregnant right. There is no way you have been safe your entire life, this one time you didn’t have the guy use a condom would totally not screw you over right. No, no way this is not gonna happen in five minutes your gonna look at that stupid little stick and it’s gonna be negative. The vomiting is just due to you being sick yeah you have the flu or something. You are gonna be fine no problem whatsoever, right?

Glancing up you see the five minutes is almost up and you run back into the tiny bathroom and grab for the test, knocking it off onto the floor it falls behind the toilet.

“Goddammit!” You yell at yourself, getting down on the ground reaching for the test. Grabbing it you pull it back sitting up on your knees you glance down at it and freeze. Its slips out of your hand bouncing onto the floor. You just stare of into the distance. “No, No, No, No, No….” You just keep repeating over and over to yourself.

This can’t be happening, you’re a hunter you can’t be pregnant. Hunters don’t get to have babies they don’t get to have that happily ever after. It’s a hunters job to protect the regular people that get to have that happy ever after. Oh no, how can you ever tell Dean. You can’t what would he even say. You really can’t go back to the boys know. What are you going to do know you need help who can help you? You grab your phone and stare at it for a moment before dialing a number you’ve had memorized since you were very young the phone rings for a second before it gets answered.

“(Y/N)! Were, are you? Are you okay? We’re all worried about you!” Bobby says quickly.

“Bobby?” You sigh out. “I need some helped.”

“Of course, girl you just tell me where you are, and I’ll get the boys to pick you up.”

“NO!” You yell. “No…not the boys don’t tell them anything.”

“Girl.” Bobby says concerned.

“Please Bobby just not right now. You can tell them I’m ok but that’s it I’ll explain more when I see you in person ok?...please.” You say quietly.

“Alright girl you want me to come get you or you wanna come here?”

“Ca…can you come get me? Please Bobby I don’t know if I can drive myself right now.”

“You send me the address and Ill be there as soon as I can. Ok? You are safe right?”

“Yeah.” You say with a small smile knowing how much he cares. “I’m safe Bobby.”

“Alright you stay put I’ll be there soon.” He says about to hang up the phone.

“Bobby!” You almost yell.

“Yeah?”

“Thank You.”

“Ya idjit” He starts. “I’ll see you soon.”

Tags: @hobby27

#dean winchester #dean #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #reader insert #reader #supernatural #one night #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x you

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starryhyuck · 3 years

Text

limit. (m)

pairing: gryffindor!mark x reader

words: 3.4k+

summary: with gryffindor on a continuous losing streak, you have no choice but to push your quidditch player boyfriend to his breaking point.

genre: smut

warnings: public sex, overstimulation, squirting, oral sex, degradation, daddy kink, face slapping

“If you keep pushing him, he’ll snap.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

You observe Mark across the Great Hall, fingers clenched tightly around his spoon. The other Gryffindor seated beside him are eyeing him warily, afraid the resident happy Head Boy was slowly losing his mind.

This, of course, is partly due to you.

You’ve refused to give Mark an orgasm until Gryffindor wins a Quidditch match, which has effectively been very hard since the team has been on a losing streak. You and Mark aren’t animals, per se, but the two of you fucked regularly and the fact that he hasn’t gotten the chance to touch you in weeks is taking a toll on him.

Lucas swings an arm around his shoulder and whispers something to him, but Mark’s eyes are locked in on you. You could almost feel the magic radiating off of his form. You smile deviously, arm reaching to wrap around Donghyuck’s, who gladly accepts your touch. Luckily, Donghyuck enjoys pushing Mark’s buttons almost as much as you do.

Donghyuck’s in the middle of feeding you a bite of his chicken when all of the glasses in the Great Hall shatter. A jumbled murmur of shrieks and gasps of surprise echo at the performance of wandless magic. Students whip their heads around, frantically trying to find the source of the fiasco. You already know who the culprit is, watching as Mark stomps out of the Great Hall, fists clenched tightly.

—

Donghyuck snickers beside you.

“You’re really asking for it. Wearing Slytherin gear and sitting with the snakes? He’s going to ruin you.”

You roll your eyes, brushing off his comment and adjusting the green tie wrapped around your neck. You briefly lock eyes with your irate boyfriend, who is currently on the Quidditch pitch, waiting for the match to begin. You smile and wave at him innocently, only to receive the nastiest look in return.

Donghyuck laughs again at the exchange. “I’ve never seen Mark look like that. Are you sure you’re ready for the consequences?”

You grin as the game begins, the cheering sounds from the Slytherin stands almost drowning out your voice.

“He needs a little push. Gryffindor has lost three games in a row already.”

You prove Donghyuck right a hour into the game. Mark has been scoring goal after goal since the match started. Slytherin’s Keeper tries to block every single throw, but Mark is clearly on a mission, showing no mercy to the Slytherin house. He almost looks like he would Avada someone on the spot just to win.

Every time he scores, he makes a point to look straight at you before zooming off. You smirk to yourself, already feeling your panties dampen at the sight. One part of you is slightly afraid of what Mark will do to you once Gryffindor wins. The other part of you is unabashedly excited.

The Slytherins around you groan and complain as Mark continuously scores. Donghyuck is enjoying the show, knowing you’re truly in for it later after seeing the murderous look painted on Mark’s face.

The game ends after two hours, with the Gryffindor Seeker securing the Snitch and winning the match. The sea of red erupts in a roar of applause and cheers, while the Slytherins grumble and curse their luck. It was the first loss of the season for the Slytherins, and they could all thank your boyfriend for that.

Usually, when Mark wins a game, you would wait outside the locker rooms and congratulate him with a kiss. This time, you want to make him work for it a little more.

Donghyuck chuckles when he sees you turn the opposite direction of the locker rooms.

“You’re in for it now.”

—

You’re laughing at something Doyeon’s telling you when you feel the abrupt tug on your arm. You hiss at the contact, ready to hex whoever it is. Realization seeps within you when you see the look of fury on Mark’s face as he tugs you away from your friends.

“I’ll see you guys later!” You call out, already feeling the slick of your wetness coating your thighs.

“Okay! Great game, Mark!”

The Gryffindor boy doesn’t even thank them, pulling open the door to the empty Potions classroom and shoving you inside. You put on your innocent persona.

“That wasn’t very nice. I was having an interesting conversation with Doyeon, if you must know.”

“On the desk. Now.”

The anger laced in his tone has your body vibrating. You decide to push him even further, frowning and clutching your books tighter to your chest. You still have Donghyuck’s Slytherin scarf wrapped around you, which Mark is heavily glaring at.

“I don’t even get a please? Where are your manners, Mark?”

You gasp when he steps forward, fingers bunching around the locks of your hair and pulling. Hard.

“You think this is so funny, don’t you? Watching me fall apart, breaking all the glasses in the Great Hall and receiving detention for it? How about wanting to injure someone on the field just so we could win? Just so I can come back to you, fuck you so hard your tight cunt stretches out.” His fingers grip the fabric of your skirt and he growls. You swear you can feel your juices start running down the inside of your thigh with how wet you are. “And what about this? This stupid fucking little skirt. You think you could get away with that too?”

You placed a charm on your clothing early this morning, making your button-up shirt just a little tighter around your chest and your skirt a little shorter than normal. You smile and try to raise your chin as much as possible, struggling as Mark continues to pull your hair.

“Daddy likes it? I did it just for you. Just so Daddy could win today.”

Mark’s eyes are the darkest they have ever been, and you try not to glance down at his trousers, which are probably straining from his growing erection. You only play the Daddy card once or twice, mainly because once it’s out in the open, Mark fucks you until you can’t feel your legs. And most days, you would prefer not to limp from class to class.

Another gasp rips out of your throat when he discards your clothing with the flick of his wand. He casts a silencing charm on the room, and you know you’re done for.

He leaves you in your undergarments, and today, you have chosen to wear a nice lacy number in Slytherin green. The sight makes him hiss in frustration, and it isn��t long before he slams you down on a nearby desk. You whimper at the contact, but Mark hardly cares about your well-being at this point.

He snickers at the sight of your ruined underwear, snapping the garter you’re wearing against your skin as you yelp.

“Look at you. Greedy little slut. Who got you this wet?”

“D-Donghyuck,” you manage to say, gathering enough courage.

The answer earns you a slap across the face and you cry at the pain.

“Wrong answer. Try again.”

“Y-You, Daddy. Just y-you.”

He hums in contentment. You shudder when you feel a finger run up and down your slit. “I’m going to make the rules very clear today. You’ll do your best to obey them, or else I’ll use your body how I please without letting you cum. Understood?” At your timid nod, he continues. “I’m going to fuck your tight little cunt raw. I’m going to cum as much as I like, and make you cum as much as I like. If I hear any protests, I’ll add an extra orgasm to the list. I don’t care if you’ve reached your limit. I don’t care if you can’t handle any more. I’ll do whatever I like, and there will be no arguments about it.”

You chew on your bottom lip. Mark has never fucked you raw before — you both always use Muggle condoms or contraceptive charms.

“But, Mark-“

He slaps your clothed slit and you gasp loudly. “That’s another orgasm added to the list. Do you want another one? We’re already at five.”

Your eyes widen. You’ve never been able to take more than three orgasms from him without passing out. You immediately shake your head, sealing your lips tight.

“Good. Bend over.”

You scramble to follow his orders, shakily positioning yourself over the desk. Another flick of his wand and you’re completely naked. You whimper at the vulnerability, wondering if he also cast locking charms on the doors too. Anyone could walk in and see you bent over like this.

Mark usually likes to see your face when he fucks you so you’ve never really tried this position with him. Goosebumps rise on your skin when you feel his hands exploring your backside.

“Wish everyone could see you like this for me. Bent over during dinner while I fuck you into the table. They always tease me about you. Gryffindor Head Boy could never satisfy his partner. They think I’m such a goody-two-shoes.” You almost scream when a finger unexpectedly pushes into you. “I wonder what everyone would think now — having you bent over the Potions desk like this, eager to be fucked like a little whore. Waiting for my cock to split you apart, isn’t that right?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy,” you garble.

He adds another finger, the squelch of your wetness causing you to grow even warmer. He thrusts his fingers inside of you, skillfully digging them into the spot you love.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about your cunt? Ever since you made that ridiculous bet with me, I knew I was done for. I had to excuse myself so many times from class just to rub one out in the bathroom. Seeing you in this cute little skirt, so eager to earn House Points, so willing to please the professor. I imagined how tight your pussy would feel when I wrapped a hand around myself, how many of those sweet moans I could bring out of you.”

When he pushes a third finger in, you shriek as you cum without warning. You were probably moaning without any sense, writhing on top of the desk as Mark fingers you through your orgasm. He drank up every single one of your sounds, gazing down at you with a feral look in his eyes.

Even as your orgasm subsides, Mark doesn’t stop fucking you. You almost request for him to give you a break, but you know it’ll just earn you another orgasm.

He watches you, waiting for you to beg for him to stop. He smiles when you obey, continuing to thrash and whine as his digits pump into you.

“So pretty, perfect for me. You’re always so tight, it’s not fair to me, you know? I could fuck you every single day and you would still need to be stretched out regardless.” He leans over your frame, mouth beginning to press open mouthed kisses at your throat. The sensation has you jolting, his fingers grinding down to rub at your clit. “But you would like that, wouldn’t you? So hungry for my cock.”

This was true — you couldn’t seem to get enough of Mark on a daily basis. Even if you didn’t fuck every single day, you always had the urge to get on your knees for him and suck his cock. It calmed you in a way. Before exams, Mark would pull you into a nearby alcove and let you suck him off until your worries disappeared.

You could feel your high approaching again. “P-P-Please,” you stutter, gasping and pushing yourself further down his fingers. “Please, Daddy.”

At the sound of your begging, Mark sinks to his ground. He jerks your body until you’re halfway off the desk, pushing your thighs apart so he can see you fully. He takes a moment to marvel at how pretty you are before licking a stripe up your cunt. You groan, fingers tangling into his hair, which is still slightly damp from his after-game shower.

He hums against your folds, exploring them with his tongue. Mark could eat you out for days and remain unbothered by the outside world. There have been multiple times where you’ve woken up to his head in between your legs as he snuck into your dormitory room early in the morning to get a taste of you. There’s also been a few occasions when he would convince you to sneak out while he runs patrol in the hallways, just so he could prop you against a wall and eat you out until you cry.

Your eyes flutter closed as you revel in the feeling of Mark’s mouth on your cunt. He’s groaning with you, hands cupping your thighs and bringing you closer to him. His nose continuously nudges your clit as he licks you, slurping on the remnants of your orgasm.

It doesn’t register for a few seconds that he’s still talking to you.

“This is mine. My cunt for fucking. I’m the only one who’s allowed to see you like this, understand? The only one who gets to make you cum.”

He is, indeed. You topple headfirst into your second orgasm, juices spilling into Mark’s waiting mouth. He cleans you up as your body attempts to recover. You’re lucky he remembered to place a silencing charm, your voice almost giving out with the amount of screams you’ve emitted. He decides to spare you this time, rising from the ground and licking his lips.

“Tastes so good.” He smirks down at you, watching as your chest rises and falls from heavy panting. You feel like you’ve run a marathon, but he looks like he’s only just started. His fingers brush stray hairs away from your face. “Poor baby. All fucked out already? I haven’t even given you my cock yet.”

You blink deliriously in response and he laughs. His fingers dig into your hips once more as he adjusts you on your back again.

“How about you answer a question for me? If you answer correctly, I’ll give you my cock. If you fail, I’ll add another orgasm to the list.” You blink again in response, brain fuzzy. He grins. “Why don’t you tell me what a bad girl you’ve been these past few weeks?”

He slaps the inside of your thigh to jolt you out of your reverie. “I-I was a b-bad girl, Daddy.”

“Hm? And why’s that?”

“I ignored y-you,” you whisper as his hand cups your breast, tweaking your nipple between his fingers. “I cheered for S-Slytherin when I-I should have b-been c-c-cheering for Gryffindor.”

Your breath grows more shaky as Mark’s other hand inches towards your entrance again.

“And?”

“And I f-f-flirted with D-Donghyuck when I’m o-only s-s-supposed to have e-eyes for y-you, Daddy.”

“And?”

“And I charmed m-my clothes t-to tempt you.”

“Because?”

“Because I’m a whore.”

He smiles in contentment. “That’s right.”

Instead of pushing his fingers inside of you, you’re taken aback when the tip of his cock sinks into you. You moan loudly, not even noticing he had taken off his trousers.

“Fuck,” he curses, watching himself push into you. “Such a tight little cunt. Only for Daddy’s eyes, right?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy.”

His fingers find their way to your throat, curling and gripping your windpipe. You gasp and hear his sinister chuckle.

“There’s my little whore. Back in her place.”

He almost pushes you off the desk with the force of his thrusts. You have another small orgasm when Mark fully bottoms out, and he laughs when he realizes.

“Already? Looks like you’ve been just as desperate as me, baby.”

You’ve never taken more than three orgasms before. Since Hogwarts was a big school with many prying eyes, it was hard to get alone time with Mark like this. You often had to face the judgmental glares from the portraits whenever Mark fingered you behind one of the tapestries. Now that he has you all to himself, however, he intends to make the most out of it.

You’re pushing on the border of exhaustion, watching as your boyfriend continues to furiously push into you. He moves his hand from your throat to your cheek, slapping you once more to wake you up.

“Have to stay awake, baby. We still have two more to go.”

You mumble incoherently in response, past the point of comprehension. Once the tip of his cock rubs against your sweet spot, you cry out in pleasure. He grunts, angling himself so that he keeps hitting that spot inside of you. Over and over.

“M-Mark, I-“

“I know. Let me feel you, baby. Want to feel your cunt cum all over Daddy’s cock.”

You can’t begin to explain the tightening feeling in your stomach. You feel like you’re flying up to your peak at an unsteady rate. It almost feels like you need to use the bathroom, but before you can warn Mark, you fall apart.

You think you black out for a bit. You blink dazedly, body twitching and nervously moving on top of the desk. You get the strength to lift your head and check on Mark. His cock has slipped out of you, his gaze locked on your pussy.

“M-Mark?” You ask softly.

“Fuck, baby. You just squirted all over me.”

You gasp. You’ve never been able to squirt before and you eye the mess you’ve made all over Mark’s chest. He grunts, fingers pumping up and down his cock.

“Fuck fuck fuck. How can you be so perfect?”

And then he’s pushing back into you. You scream loudly, still trying to recover from such an intense orgasm. You realize that you’ve started crying, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Perfect girl for me,” he hisses, hand returning to paw at your breast. “Cunt is so so sweet. Can never get enough of you. Just give me one more, baby. One more.”

You want to tell him you can’t, you’ve reached your limit and can’t push it any farther. You squeal when he pinches your clit.

“Daddy, please-“

“Daddy wants another, baby. One more for me.”

His thumb circles your clit while his cock pistons in and out of you. When he finds your sweet spot again, he doesn’t rest. He’s on a mission to get you to orgasm again, the same expression painted on his face from the Quidditch game just a hour ago. He’s determined to see you fall apart, filth spewing from his mouth.

“I wish I could take you like this every time. Push you up in the hallways, fuck you until you’re a sobbing mess for me. Having everyone watch while I make you squirt, showing them I can fuck you better than anyone else can. I bet they would all be jealous. They could never have you falling apart for them, begging for them to fill you up with their seed.”

It dawns on you that Mark still hasn’t cast a contraceptive charm of any kind. He seems to be on the same wavelength as you, digging his heels to the floor and thrusting harder at the thought of cumming inside you. The lewd sound of your wetness fills the room, along with his grunts and your whimpers from oversensitivity.

“I want to fuck you everywhere before we leave this place. Want you to ride me in the middle of the Quidditch pitch for everyone to see. Want all the Gryffindors to watch as their Head Boy plows into his girlfriend in the common room. Want you to bounce on my cock during every meal. Fuck, I want you so badly, baby.”

When you squirt this time, you’re coherent enough to watch it happen. Drops of your slick pour out of you, gushing onto Mark’s cock and the floor. The sound of his thighs slapping against yours only grows louder and wetter with your orgasm.

Mark hisses. “Want my cum, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you echo back to him, barely staying awake.

He groans when he reaches his high, pushing deep inside of you to empty his load. He cums more than you expected, but you suppose he’s been holding it in for weeks. He finally finishes a minute later, collapsing on top of you. He subconsciously places kisses on your neck.

“Never act up like that again. I don’t think I have the stamina to do another round.”

You giggle, about to respond when the booming voice of your Potions professor echoes throughout the room.

“Mark Lee! What on earth do you children think you’re doing? Fifty points from Gryffindor!”

#nct smut #mark #mark smut

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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

Text

I Didn’t Mean It - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: ANGST, cursing, death

Summary: It was too early for this. All the yelling, the fighting, the screaming. You didn’t give in but for some reason Bakugou just couldn’t let it go. Words get said and hearts die.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“YOU FUCKING ATTENTION WHORE!”

Your boyfriend, whom you’ve been dating since your second year in junior high, was currently screaming your head off.

Last night, the two of you and your friends all went out but the night ended early for you and Katsuki when some rando got a little too handsy with you. Even though you pushed the guy away, Katsuki couldn’t help but feed into his jealous nature. You both argued all night but you left the argument early and went to bed, too exhausted with everything that just went down. Unfortunately, Katsuki was stubborn and the second you woke up to get ready for patrol, he brought the argument back to life.

“A-Attention whore? Katsuki, I pushed him away!” You said with a cracked voice as you gathered your things. Bakugou was standing near the kitchen island as he slammed his fist on the counter and continued to yell.

“Why do you think he went to you in the first place, Y/N?! You walk around, dressed like a fucking slut, even though you have a boyfriend!” He screamed.

His words were hitting hard and you teared up the slightest bit as he continued yelling. “Katsuki! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Would you quit fucking crying! Just fucking admit you were going to be a fucking hoe and cheat on me! Then you can get the fuck out of here!” He screamed in your face. You squinted your eyes as the tears pricked at the end of them.

“…is that what you want? You want me to leave?” You asked with a broken heart. You could see the hesitation on Bakugou’s face. He was fighting himself, trying to force himself to bite his tongue and take back every harsh thing he said but his pride wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t mean any of it. His heart cried for one thing while his wild mouth said another.

“…..yes.” He muttered. He watched as your face grew in heartbreak and he could practically hear your pulse booming. You bit in your lip to hold back your sobs before you blinked away your tears and nodded.

“I’ll get my stuff out after my patrol.” With that, you walked off to the door and left to work but not before you heard Bakugou mutter a soft ‘I hate you,’ knowing full well that you heard. Bakugou stood in the now quiet house, immediately regretting everything he said.

He knew you weren’t a cheater. He knew you wouldn’t do that to him. He doesn’t know why he said what he did but all he knows is that he’s going to make it up to you once you come back home. He’ll do whatever it takes. He loves you after all.

—

After hollowing in sadness and regret, Bakugou got up and began his plan to make it up to you. He left the house and went out to buy groceries, a new Teddy Bear for you, a necklace, and a bouquet of your favorite flowers and another bouquet of roses.

With the new groceries, he made your favorite meal and baked your favorite dessert. He wrapped the gifts and placed them on the beautifully set table that was littered in flower petals and candles. Bakugou was sure this would help aid in his apology.

Throughout the day, Bakugou sent you multiple texts trying to explain and apologize. He sent multiple messages and was starting to grow a little hurt at the fact that you weren’t replying to any of them. He tried calling but when you didn’t pick up, it worried him. He sent voicemails to no avail and continued waiting. It was only a morning patrol so you should be back soon. Right?

—

Wrong. Bakugou sat in front of the t.v screen with an open jaw and wide eyes as tears fell from his face.

Pro-hero, H/N, fallen in tragic battle against villain.

Bakugou could feel the world stop. He felt his heart beat all throughout his body as he shook. He couldn’t move. It was like he was frozen in place as he stared at the screen showing an image of you being impaled. He snapped out of his trance when his phone rang. Stupidly having hope that it was you, he immediately answered.

“Y-Y/N?!” Bakugou screamed into the phone with a broken voice.

“I’m sorry Bakugou.” He recognized the voice as his best friend, Kirishima. “I don’t think she’s gonna make it.”

Bakugou began to huff as he looked around the house. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t what he wanted! You were supposed to come home and make up! You were supposed to be here with him! You were supposed to be home!

“Where are you?! Where are you, where is she?!” He screamed into the phone. Kirishima gave him the information and Bakugou was out the door, blasting his way to your location.

He forced himself to go beyond his limits as he traveled the distance to where you were located. He arrived at the busy land where the battle took place. He ignored everything else and set his sights on where you could be, until he finally took notice of a crowd of people, surround your seemingly lifeless body.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!” The pro screamed at the crowd. Everybody took notice of the hero as he ran to your body with tears in his eyes. Tears he vowed to hide from the public. As Bakugou landed, Kirishima and a few other heroes at the scene pushed the crowd away and told them to leave the couple be. The paramedics tried to take your body from Bakugou in a foolish attempt, but Bakugou refused to let you go. The paramedics allowed him to hold you, for they knew it would be for the last time.

Bakugou knelt down at your side and pressed your body to his chest. He still held frantic eyes as he examined your condition and felt his heart sink when he came to the conclusion that you weren’t doing so good. “Hey..hey, hey, hey. Y/N? Y/N, please. Please baby, wake up!”

His heart and head were in battle as one knew you weren’t going to make it while the other held hope and prayed you would. Bakugou moved the stray pieces of hair that covered your beautiful face and caressed your cheek. “Y/N come on! You have to wake up! We have to go home now!”

As his tears finally fell and dropped onto your face, you began to move and awaken due to his sobs and pleas.

“……..Katsuki,” you ever so gently whispered out, barely audible. But Bakugou heard you. He heard you well.

“Y/N! Fuck- thank fucking god!” He exclaimed into your neck as he cried. He sobbed while you merely looked to the sky, waiting for the heavens to take you.

“…I’m gonna die.”

At your words, Bakugou picked his head up and looked at your dull and almost lifeless eyes. His heart began panicking again as he shook his head. “No…no, baby, don’t say that. You’re gonna make it. I swear!”

“……I didn’t get to move my stuff out. I- ngh- ….I’m sorry.” You said with a weak look as you stared at nothing. Bakugou felt his tears fall heavier as he was reminded of your fight. He told you to leave. He told you he hated you. And he hated himself for even doing it.

“Y/N, please don’t leave. Please. I don’t want you to go..I- I didn’t mean it! I want you to stay. Stay with me! Stay alive! Please don’t go.” He begged as he held on a little tighter. You felt yourself growing weaker by the second and your vision was beginning to dull and turn hazy.

“…it’s too late.”

“It’s not! Please, it can’t be! Y/N!” Bakugou looked around for help when he realized he was left alone with you. “Y/N, please! Just stay a little longer!”

“…I’m tired, Katsuki.”

“I-..I know baby. I know. But- you have to stay awake, okay!? Stay awake, stay alive!” Bakugou cried as he looked at your life force drain right in front of him. What was he going to do?

You began to curl in a little more as you felt your body relax in his hold. “Katsuki?”

“Yes baby?” He frantically asked.

“…. I love you..and I’m sorry.”

His body took a screenshot as he looked at you in shock. Sorry? For what? You did nothing wrong. Today was horrible and it was his fault and now..he was paying the ultimate price.

“Y/N, I love you too.” He cried. He didn’t know what to do. What to say, what to think. He didn’t know anything. All he knew was that he wanted you to live. As he cried with shut eyes, his world stopped spinning when he felt you become dead weight in his arms. He shot his eyes open as he looked at your now lifeless body. “Y/N?…..Y/N!”

You didn’t get to hear him say it back.

Bakugou shook you, but to no avail. You were gone. But he refused to believe it. “Y/N!….Y/N wake up! ….This isn’t fucking funny! Please!”

Bakugou continued to try and get you to open your eyes until paramedics came to take your body and heroes pulled him away from you. “No! NO! LET ME GO! LET ME HOLD HER! PLEASE!”

“Bakugou! Stop! She’s gone!” Kirishima screamed as he held Bakugou back. The blonde continued to fight and struggle against the heroes that held him as he continued to reach out for you.

“NO! SHE’S NOT GONE! SHE’S THERE! SHE’S RIGHT THERE! PLEASE! LET ME GO! GIVE HER BACK TO ME!” Bakugou watched as the paramedics laid you down on a stretcher and covered your body in a sheet. The sight made Bakugou nauseous as he felt his heart drop to his stomach.

“NO!” He cried as he used his explosions to push away the heroes and ran to your body. The sight of the angry and heartbroken hero scared the medics away as Bakugou ripped the sheet off and was finally able to have you in his arms again. Kirishima was the first and only one who tried to reach out to him.

“Bakugou-“

“STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM US!” He screamed as he held into your dead body.

“…Y/N..baby, please wake up. This wasn’t supposed to happen!” He cried as he pressed his forehead to your own and held onto the side of your face. “I’m so sorry we argued and had that fight…but- but I was going to make it up to you! I swear! You were supposed to come home..so I could give you flowers..and gifts..and- and I made your favorite meal! I set everything up back at home! You have to wake up so you can see! YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP SO YOU KNOW THAT I DIDN’T MEAN ANY OF THE SHIT I SAID!”

You remained silent and breathless, and yet Bakugou still tried, hoping you could hear him.

“Wake up…so we can go home. So I can show you all I did for you. So I can shower you in a thousand apologies, so we can cuddle on the couch…please.” He cried. “Y/N…..”

All of a sudden, Bakugou was pulled back by a hero’s quirk and held there. He fought against restraints and screamed against everything and everyone. “NO! NO! GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!”

He continued to scream until he felt someone jab him with a sedative. He felt himself going weak and feeling drowsy. He was getting tired. His vision became fuzzy but he was still able to see them cover your body up once more as Kirishima tried to hide his view of you.

“No!” He screamed in a weaker, more tired tone. “No, please. Please..just-…just let me hold her. Please……Y/N….” And with that, he was knocked out.

—

When he came to, he awoke on his couch with Kirishima sitting at his feet with his elbows on his knees. When the red head noticed the blonde’s opening eyes, he was quick to grab him some water.

“Hey man, you’re finally-“

“WHERE IS SHE?!” Bakugou asked, slapping the glass of water out of his best friend’s hand. He grabbed onto the red’s shoulders and demanded answers. “WHERE’S Y/N!? TELL ME NOW!”

Kirishima looked at Bakugou with pitiful eyes. He slowly took hold of his friend’s hands and pulled them off of his shoulders. “Bakugou…I’m sorry.”

The blonde began to shake his head in denial as he began to cry again. “No..no! No, no, please! She can’t…”

“Bakugou…”

“She can’t be gone.”

The blonde began to sob uncontrollably as Kirishima consulted him the best he could. He was unfamiliar with the blonde’s despair, the hot head had never been this upset before. The two friends remained on the couch until Bakugou calmed down enough to a point where he could talk…barely.

“H-How long have I been out?” Bakugou asked.

“Just two days. Don’t worry..you didn’t miss her…” Kirishima looked at his friend’s broken face as Bakugou lifted his head to show his friend his depression. He knew what words were coming. He didn’t know if he wanted to hear them. “….you didn’t miss her funeral.”

Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut as he allowed his head to fall as tears poured out of them. He silently suffered before asking another question. “When is it?”

“…in a week. Y/N didn’t have any family left-“ Kirishima felt his friend tense at his words. “…She didn’t have any blood related family left to give her one, so our friends and the agency put together a small one. Just her closest friends, the agency, and the heroes who fought with her in battle.”

“……I’m not going.” Bakugou stated.

“What?” Kirishima asked. “Bakugou, Y/N was your girlfriend. You guys were together even before U.A. and even after that! You both built a home together. How could you not go to her funeral?”

“I can’t face her! Not yet. I don’t deserve to get a good look at her face after what I did.” The pro sobbed. Kirishima looked at him in confusion, urging the blonde to continue. “I-….I said so many horrible things to her. I called her a fucking whore! I- I completely disrespected her and accused her of cheating when I know she didn’t! I told her to leave and to get the fuck out of my life! I told her I hated her!”

“Bakugou…”

“KIRISHIMA I TOLD HER TO LEAVE BUT I DIDN’T MEAN IT!” He screamed. Bakugou began to cry again as he finished pouring everything on the table. “I didn’t mean it! I didn’t want this! And- and now, I’ll never be able to get her back!”

Kirishima processed his friend’s words and began to understand exactly why he was so upset. He placed a hand in his friend’s back before softly speaking. “…Go to her funeral. Going could give you some closure and relief. Don’t say you don’t deserve to see her because you do. Y/N would want you to be there for her. …Honor H/N’s name.”

Bakugou said nothing as he kept his head in his hands. He didn’t sob uncontrollably anymore but Kirishima could hear his sniffles. The friend pulled him in for a small one sided hug and spoke.

“You’re my brother, Katsuki…I hate seeing you this upset.” With that, Kirishima got up and walked to the exit. Before he left, he looked to his friend with a sad look. “I hope you show up..for Y/N.”

—

The day of the funeral came, and Bakugou didn’t show. He couldn’t. Despite everything Kirishima said, he just couldn’t bring himself to face you. To see you dead. Pale faced in the casket. The thought alone made him sick to his stomach.

Time passed and months went by before Bakugou could even leave his house to go to your grave. The first time he went, he brought your favorite flowers in a mix of roses. He found your name engraved on the stone slab before placing the bouquet down and sitting. It was a beautiful day..and all he could think about was how you weren’t here to enjoy it with him.

“Y/N…I’m so so sorry. The day you left..you didn’t even get to hear me tell you that I love you too. I love you so much and now you’ll probably never know just how much I do. You’ll never get to wear the ring I got for you..you’ll never get to walk down the aisle..I’ll never get to be the one to receive you at the end of that aisle. We’ll never have that family you wouldn’t stop talking about. We’ll never get to grow old together..and be together forever like we planned.” He said with a sorrowful expression.

“I told you I hated you, I told you to leave but I didn’t mean it! Please….. come back! I love you and I want you here with me! I didn’t want you to go, I didn’t mean it, please!…

…I didn’t mean it.”

As he cried at your grave, a gust of wind blew against his hair in a soft breeze. Too lost in his tears, he couldn’t make out that it was your spirit attempting to comfort him.

A ghost of you rested on your grave as you looked down at your ex-boyfriend crying more than he ever has before. You got down on your knees to sit infront of him as he cried with his head down as you placed an empty hand on the side of his face, knowing he couldn’t feel your touch.

“I know you didn’t mean it, Katsuki…I know.”

Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04

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amazingmaeve · 2 years

Text

BREATH

spencer reid x fem!reader

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Y/N’s had a rough life dealing with the fact that her father left her and her mother, leading her mom to drinking her life away. But she had her best friend, Spencer Reid a love able need who helped her along the way. That friendship turned into something more when they both turned 15. But one morning Y/N finds out the Spencer left to explore more opportunities and just left a note. Then at 29 the most traumatic thing happened to her which made time stop for her. Being kidnapped, raped and tortured for 3 weeks she thought she was going to die but Y/N escaped and reported it to the police but never eventually found anything. A few years later still having trauma Spencer Reid comes back into her life.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: angst, major warning for mentions of rape and torture happens against reader DO NOT READ (not described) if you’re not comfortable, fluff (with spencer), swearing, use of drugs (prescribed), alcohol, abandonment

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10,308

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ|ᴄ.ᴍ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ|s.ʀ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀs ɴᴏᴛᴇ: again please DO NOT READ if anything in the warnings (mentions of rape and torture against reader) triggers you, I want your mental health to be in line more than a like or reblog. The sexual assault ISN’T described the only description is when she escapes. also it’s my first time writing for spencer so please go easy on me. Also definitely inspired by that episode nanny dearest. Flashbacks are in italics. Also longest thing I’ve ever written.

Spencer entered the building and went straight for his desk, after saying hello to Emily and Derek and put his satchel and coffee down getting ready to get to work. As he picked up his pen he heard Hotchs door open and looked up to see his boss standing there with his usual stern face.

“Case,” Hotch said, his voice gravely as usual.

Spencer sighed and grabbed his stuff and headed straight for the debriefing room where all of his teammates were sitting. Garcia stood in front of all them with her bright attire and remote in hand. Even with her bubbly attitude Spencer could tell that this case was going to be a tough one with her body language.

“Hope you have a tough stomach for this one my beauties,” Garcia sighed as everyone looked at the iPads on their tables. “Every December 2 girls go missing in Las Vegas with mutilation all over their bodies and especially the genitals. They also have been extremely sexually assaulted and raped” She explained though Spencer had already read through the whole thing and saw the pictures.

“Sadist,” Emily guessed.

“Actually it seems more likely that this guy is more of a sexual sadist due to the extreme rape and assault to the genitals,” Spencer explained his eyes still on the IPad. Emily rolled her eyes playfully.

“Wait it looks like they had some of their hair ripped out,” J.J brought up looking more closely at the pictures.

“All of them from the looks of it. Maybe souvenirs,” Rossi explained, taking a guess.

“This guy seems really angry and impulsive but composed since he only kills one month out of the year for three years,” Derek says bewildered.

“It takes a lot of patience to do something you could be doing all year, maybe something is holding him back,” Emily suggested.

“Maybe that’s why the murders are so gruesome, he has something or someone holding him back for all the other 11 months,” Spencer quickly said putting down the IPad finally taking a look at the rest of his team members. “From the looks of this, this guy is extremely calculated,” He explained, wringing his hands together.

“Why do you say that,” J.J asked, confused. All these murders looked like someone impulsively did them.

“You can see on the girls arms that she has ligature marks which means these girls are being held somewhere, also they all have the same hair color, eye color, and even age he’s definitely projecting and using these women as surrogates as well,” Spencer quickly explained.

“It’s already half way through December 3 girls are already dead, one is missing . We need to crack this case. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch demanded, rising from his seat quickly followed by everyone in that same room.

Spencer couldn’t help but feel nervous as he was going to the place where he was born. They’ve all been there before but this time he felt like something in his gut that something bad was going to happen, he just brushed it off as nerves.

——-

“Dammit,” Y/N cursed as she started bleeding from the wound on her finger. She has been picking at the skin around her nail to help the nerves, at least that’s what her therapist told her at every session.

It was completely reasonable with what she has been through and even her therapist told her that people don’t just get over that. Y/N hated that about herself though, still having nightmares 3 years after the whole thing. In her mind she should be done with all of this, waking up in a sweat and having a panic attack every night. In those nightmares he came back for her and did everything over and over again. The rape, the torture.

Jill, her therapist, explained it was possible since the guy hadn’t been arrested she was afraid he could come back at any moment. Although, Y/N didn’t need a therapist to tell her that.

His face is implanted in her mind, every time she closes her eyes she sees him above her, but before she has a full blown panic attack she takes deep breaths and reminds herself he isn’t there.

In those three years she has gotten herself a German shepherd, a service dog, to help her with the panic attacks and it did help having him there. But she couldn’t take him to the bar where she worked, so she had to figure out trying to calm herself down during a panic attack.

In her first session of therapy, Jill immediately prescribed her to Xanax since she was hyperventilating for even coming out of her apartment. Y/N didn’t mind since it helped her during some of her rough times.

“So how are you today Y/N,” Jill asked with her notebook in her hand. Y/N sat across from her on the couch with her hands tightly squeezed together.

“Not much better but I took your advice and I talked to someone,” Y/N tried to explain, giving bad information and good information.

“That’s progress and it’s a good thing letting people in your life and letting them care for you,” Jill explained as her mouth formed into a smile.

“Well it’s easier said than done,” Y/N mumbled under her breath, her hand going to the scars on her arm and began to scratch the old wounds for comfort.

“That is also true but you never know unless you take a risk,” Jill suggested, putting one leg over the other, crossing them.

“The last time I took a risk is when I got kidnapped for 3 weeks and got repeatedly raped and torture soI don’t ever want to take a risk again,” Y/N snapped as tears came cascaded down her cheeks. Her breaths began to become more and more short.

“You’re right with your past you shouldn’t be taking a risk and I’m sorry for bringing that up,” Jill apologized with a monotone voice, not allowed to show any emotion.

Y/N took a deep breath wiping the tears away, reminding herself that Jill just wanted to help her get better. But is there any hope that she could get better? She was broken beyond belief, and she didn’t have any hope in herself. All those scars, inside and out, have prevented Y/N a life she should have had, but now she’s cold and doesn't talk to anyone. She can’t take that risk again.

“It’s fine,” Y/N quickly replied, bouncing her knees as her nerves began to calm down. Even though her heart was still pounding against her chest she was feeling better.

“For this week I want you to take a walk during the day and enjoy the fresh air and relax,” Jill told her as she noticed that the session between her and Y/N was about to end.

“I‘ll try my best,” Y/N murmured as got her stuff ready to leave.

Once she was in the car Y/N was free to cry and break down. Fist tight around the steering wheel and tears rolling down her cheeks she started to hyperventilate. She tried the breathing technique Jill told her to do and surprisingly it worked.

Resting her head against the seat she let out a long breath and a sniffle. Putting her hand on her chest she notes that her heart started to calm down as well.

Taking out a pack of cigarettes, she places the stick between her lips lighting the tub. Y/N sighed as she exhaled smoke and while doing, also subconsciously scratching at some old scars.

Before she noticed the pain she saw blood coming out of her arm.

“Fuck,” Y/N hissed dabbing the cigarette in the ash tray in her car.

Pulling out a napkin she held the wound to keep pressure. She took a breath and put a bandaid on the small wound and closed her eyes from being tired.

Looking at her phone she cursed as she realized she was late for work. She stepped on the gas and booked it to the bar.

——-

Spencer sat at a table with all the papers about the case surrounding them. His teammates are sprouting ideas or anything they could do to find this missing girl before she died.

Spencer narrowed his eyes as he looked at the papers in front of him. He quickly re-read the paper before coming up with a theory. It looked like he had one girl for 3 weeks and killed her then for the last week was spent with the other victim.

“I just don’t understand this guy. He has extreme impatience and aggression but is patient enough to wait another 11 months before killing another girl,” Emily frustratedly said as she ran her fingers through her hair.

“Maybe he’s on a time crunch,” Derek suggested, tapping his pen against the table.

“Yeah but would that be. What could be this important?,” J.J questioned, biting her lip.

“Maybe he’s filming it and keeping it,” Rossi suggested as a lightbulb went off in his head.

“That could be why this unsub is so frustrated when the month of December hits. The videos aren’t just doing it for him anymore,” Hotch explained as his eyes were furrowed.

“What’s going on in your head kid,” Derek asked worriedly, looking over at Spencer.

“Maybe he’s here on vacation,” Spencer said looking up at all of his teammates.

“That’s a possibility,” Emily agreed.

“If you think about approximately 40 million people visit Las Vegas each year for Christmas and New Years,” Spencer explained, playing with his hands.

“And that’s why he videotapes it, so when he goes back home he doesn’t have to do this, where he won’t be suspected,” Rossi explained as the realization dawned on everyone.

“If that is the case, we only have a week before this girl shows up dead and this guy leaves the city,” J.J explains.

“This started three years ago and I’m just confused by something,” Spencer says looking through the papers. Everyone turns to him as he tries to find something.

“There’s a first for everything pretty boy,” Derek teased, patting him on the back as he crossed the room to get more coffee. Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Two girls are taken every December but 3 years ago only one girl showed up dead at the end of the month,” Spencer explained as ideas raked through his mind.

“Maybe that’s when it started,” Hotch guessed.

“This guy is extremely planned out, he sticks to his plan he probably had victims picked out before he got her though,” Emily stood up standing next to the board where all the information laid out. The hunting ground, victim type, characteristics of the killer. Then it dawned on him.

“Get Garcia on the phone,” Spencer demanded.

Everyone looked at him confused but Emily dialed the phone number as Spencer paced nervously. If he was right they could figure out who this guy was and save this girl.

“Finally I’ve been sitting here all day waiting all day to talk and do something,” Garcia's voice came through the speaker, her usual pep in her tone.

“Garcia I need you to look up something for me,” Spencer began to say.

“That’s why I’m here,” Garcia smiled.

“Look up woman who were raped 3 years ago and reported it,” Spencer asked.

“What’s going on Reid,” Rossi asked, confusion swimming in his eyes.

“I’m thinking that the reason we never found this first victim is because she didn’t die,” Spencer exclaimed as everyone realized what he was saying.

“We might have a victim that can crack this case open for us,” Emily said aloud.

“I’ve got 59 women and that is way too high for my liking,” Garcia's voice came through the line.

“Of all sexual assaults and Rapes 63% aren’t reported so let’s just hope that she went to the police with this information,” Spencer nervously said.

“If not we’ll find a way to find her,” J.J explained, looking at him with soft eyes.

“Okay Garcia apply this, they had cigarette burns, rope burns around their wrist and were kidnapped. Also they have to have Y/HC, Y/E/C, and have to have high risk jobs since he thinks they won’t be missed,” Spencer explained, writing a victim under a faceless picture.

“Only one name came up and it’s Y/N Y/LN, she works at a bar and she came into the police station yelling and screaming that she was kidnapped and raped. Oh poor girl she was taken for 3 weeks and had to run for about 4 miles to the police station,” Garcia explained, sympathy dripping in her voice as she thought about the girl who went through that.

Spencer froze when he heard her name. A name he thought wouldn’t be heard for the rest of his life. He dropped the marker in his hand and ran his fingers through his hair. He missed her and always wondered what had happened to her after that night he left. But now he wished he never knew the pain she went through.

But he knew he had to help Y/N with this so he could help this girl survive as well. Spencer hoped she still lived in Las Vegas, in the apartment that they once shared. His heart pounded against his chest as memories ran through his head, tears pooled in the corner of his eyes as he thought about everything.

“Where does she live,” Hotch asked with a rushness in his voice.

“Already on your IPads,” Garcia smiled.

“Alright thanks baby girl,” Derek hung up the phone before he looked at Spencer who was still gaping at the information that he had just heard. “You okay kid,” He asked, grasping his shoulder.

“Do you know this girl Spence,” J.J asked looking at him with concern.

“When I lived here we used to date, but then I moved here and worked for the BAU. God I can’t believe it I just left in the middle of the night and looked at what happened,” Spencer frustratedly rubbed at his eyes trying to not let the tears fall.

“Reid this isn’t your fault, you couldn’t have known that this would have happened to her,” Emily soothed him as she ran her hand up and down his back. Spencer took a deep breath before nodding, hesitantly agreeing with her.

“If you know this girl Reid I want you, Prentiss and Morgan to go with you to interview her,” Hotch ordered them as Spencer looked at him with wide eyes.

“But-,” Spencer was about to disagree with not going to see his ex he caused pain to.

“Reid, she knows you, she’ll probably be more comfortable around and more willing to help,” Hotch explained, giving him a look.

“But I left without one word. She's going to be reasonably angry,” Spencer sighed.

“That’s why Morgan and Prentiss are going with you,” Hotch left the room with that as his last sentence.

“Reid don’t stress about this, Hotch is right even though she is mad at you she’ll be more comfortable around you,” Emily clarified a smile gracing her lips.

“I hope you’re right,” Spencer mumbled looking at his feet before leaving the building with Morgan and Prentiss.

——-

“Do you ever wonder where you’ll end up. Like will you ever do the thing you dreamed of,” Y/N asks as she lays next to Spencer in an open field where they were watching the sunset.

“No but statistically 43% of Americans are working at their dream jobs and I’m hoping I can be one of those people,” Spencer says as he plays with her hair with his hands.

“At least you have a goal,” Y/N muttered as she shoved her face into the crook of his neck.

“What’s going on Y/N,?” Spencer asked, half worried, half confused. Y/N sighed as she looked up into his beautiful eyes.

“Well you have something you are working towards but here I am still trying to figure out what I’m going to do,” Y/N rambled, playing with the tie he was wearing avoiding eye contact so she didn’t see the pity in his eyes.

Spencer sighed as he brought her closer and caressed his hand on her hip. He knew about the insecurities and worries she has had, especially with something like her career.

“There are a lot of facts I could say about this but all I know is that once you find that thing you want to do, you’ll love it and you’ll be the best you can at it,” Spencer whispered and kissed her forehead while caressing her cheek making her look up at him. She gave him one of her beautiful smiles that could light up a room and that’s all he would ever need. His thumb ran against her cheek bone and Y/N grabbed his hand and kissed the top of his hand.

“You’re always trying to make me feel happy and safe Spence,” Y/N smiles as tears brim her eyes, she wrings her hands with his and he begins to stroke the top of her hand. “But what about you, I want you to feel like that,” She whispers as her voice gets a little raspy.

“As long as I’m with you I will be happy no matter what,” Spencer kissed the back of her hand reassuring her.

“Let me ask you a question Dr. Reid,” Y/N teasingly says with a smirk on her face he nodded bringing her close to his chest. “How many people actually marry their high school sweetheart,” She asks, resting her head on his chest, listening to the calming beat of his heart.

“In 1940s 25% of people actually got married to their high school sweethearts and that number has gotten lower since then, now it’s only 2% of people who actually marry their high school sweetheart. That includes the people who aren’t actually happy or got divorced,” Spencer rambles as Y/N looks up at him with adoration. She’s always loved it whenever he went on one of his fact crusades, she found it adorable when his eyebrows furrowed and small smile graced his face when does it. It causes her heart to skip a beat with nervousness.

But that doesn’t help the uneasiness about what he had said. Only 2% of people get married to their high school lover and she’s hoping actually, prays that her and Spencer are a part of that. Something in stomach suggests something bad is about to happen that would end with her heart broken. But she shakes that feeling off trying to spend the time with the love of her life.

“Let’s just hope that we’re a part of that 2% right,” Y/N smiled and Spencer nodded, giving a little kiss on her lips.

“I know we are.”

——-

Spencer sighs as he shakes the memory out of his brain but his eidetic memory isn’t helping so much. He looked outside of the passenger window at the passing cars as butterflies kept flying around in his stomach. Seeing Y/N again was something he wished for but under these circumstances he wishes they weren’t. He wishes this hadn’t happened to her.

Sighing, he thinks about how he’s going to ask her to relive the worst things that had happened to her without sounding like a jerk. He’s hoping that she’ll be willing to help with the case so that this man could be held to the justice system.

“Since we’re alone what’s the story kid,” Derek asked hands planted around the steering wheel while taking a glance at Spencer.

“What story,” Spencer questioned, although he knew deep down what he was going to ask him.

“Come on Reid it’s just the three of us we won’t tell anyone,” Emily says, sitting in the back coming up between them. Her face was giving off sympathy as she looked at him.

“She was my girlfriend that’s all,” Spencer murdered sinking even further into the seat than he already was. Derek rolled his eyes while Emily sighed.

“Reid, you are one of the only things to get her to open up to us. Are you ready for that if you have too,” Derek questioned with a serious look on his face.

“It’s just, it’s been a while since I have seen her and I don’t think she’ll be willing to talk to me,” Spencer spoke, clearing his throat at the end.

“She’ll probably be angry but still if you guys knew each other for a long period of time, she’ll be more comfortable with you,” Emily reassured him, putting her hand on his shoulder giving it a tap.

“I hope you are right,” Spencer gave her a tight smile through the rear view mirror, trying to calm his heart and the deep feeling in his stomach. “You know I just left,” He whispered as he rubbed his eyes with his hand.

“What do you mean,” Derek asked, confused, looking over at him for just a second as he drove down the street. Emily , just the same as Derek, looked confused.

“I didn’t even break up with her, I just left in the middle of the night and I know it’s one of the worst things I’ve ever done,” Spencer explained through a whisper as tears brimmed in his eyes. Even though he left he still loved her like he did years ago. He couldn’t stop, he even thought about asking Penelope to look her up but stopped himself wanting her to live his life without him.

“It was a long time ago Reid, you can’t let yourself drown in the thoughts of what if,” Emily explained with a comforting tone in her voice.

“Okay you are all about that factual stuff so what’s the statistic for how long it takes for someone to get over a break up,” Derek asked, his eyes still leering on the road.

“Statistically it takes an average person about 3.5 months to heal from a break up, but if it’s a divorce it could take 1.5 years or even more for someone to get over something like that,” Spencer says as he moves his hands along with the words.

“See there you go,” Emily patted Spencer's shoulder.

“But grieving a relationship isn’t about statistics, it's different for every person, this is about how much love you had for the person,” Spencer told them as he looked down at his hands and began to bite his lip to stop crying.

“That is also true,” Emily sadly tells him. “But you can’t just hide in the dark, you have to face the light sometimes,” She explains as Derek parks in front of the bar that Y/N worked at.

“She’s right kid and I know you’re afraid of the dark so run towards that light,” Derek teases a little with a grin on his face. Spencer shakes his head as a tiny grin breaks out on his face. Emily ’s right he can’t just run away from his past because he’s scared of it.

“There’s that smile,” Emily grins. “Now let’s go in.”

——-

Y/N huffs out a breath as she wipes down the bar table. She knows it’s almost about the time where all the drunks come into the place and it’s the time where most customers are there as well.

Let’s just say that Y/N doesn’t like this time of her shift.

It doesn’t make it better that her boss is a dick that is always barking off orders even if she’s on her break which makes her always frustrated. Though it doesn’t seem like the best job, it gets her good money and tips that help pay for her rent.

Although she does get kinda nervous with all these men that might be like him. That he might grab her again and might finish off the job this time. That is what haunts her as she rushes to her car at night with pepper spray in one of her hands while a knife is in the other hand.

Precautions. It helps but it doesn’t help the thoughts that run through her brain.

Her boss doesn’t know about it, maybe if she told him, he would be a little more sympathetic to her situation. Y/N doesn’t want to do that, she doesn’t need the sympathy, she hates it when the spotlight is on her and people give her the look that says they feel bad for her. She just hates it.

As she sits in the back room of the bar on her break, Y/N takes out a letter from her back pocket. It’s a letter from Diana, and she knows it’s weird staying in contact with her ex-boyfriend's mother, but Diana was the only thing in her life that was comfortable.

Her parents weren’t the best of people, just drunks that didn’t give a damn about her, so when she met Spencer and his mother she became dependent on them. And when Spencer left Diana was all that she had left and she couldn’t leave that. It would break her heart even more.

In all reality she didn’t know why Spencer left, she knew he wanted to be in the FBI and she was willing to be by his side through all of that. But it seems like he didn’t want that so she just let him go not wanting to bother him like she already had.

A sudden knock on the door jolted her up as her heart raced wondering who it was.

“Someone’s here for you,” Her boss's voice came through the door and she released a sigh when she heard it. But then the annoyance came to her.

“I’m still on break,” Y/N snapped.

“Well it just ended,” Her boss snapped back.

Y/N sighed in frustration as she bit her lip and almost caused it to bleed. She ran her hands through her hair giving it a small tug. She didn’t have any friends and her family didn’t even want to know her so who is it even.

She takes a deep breath as she tries to think about who’s waiting for her outside that door and she has a bad feeling about it. Y/N prays he hadn’t found her, to come back and finish the job. Her hand touches the cold door knob which makes her get goosebumps.

As soon as she steps out of the door she immediately regrets it. She feels a bit of relief that it wasn’t him but it was also someone else that she didn’t want to see, ever in her life.

“Y/N this is the FBI they want to talk to you about something,” Her boss tells her as she stares at Spencer having all those feelings of sadness and anger coming back. All those feelings being resurfaced, and so long after being buried, it almost doesn’t feel real to Y/N.

It feels surreal almost. That’s the best she could describe it.

The people besides Spencer must be his co-workers but Y/N doesn’t care since all she can focus on is Spencer. Why does he need to talk to her? She hasn't done anything wrong. She knows it’s not about talking to her because he wouldn’t bring his co workers along for that. She controls her breathing before she can start to hyperventilate. Biting her tongue she tries to stop the tears from cascading down her cheeks or even brimming. Not wanting to show him any sort of weakness she crosses her arms over her chest and puts a hard look on her face.

“I thought I was supposed to get back to work,” Y/N looked back at her boss with a little anger in her eyes.

“Well you can’t say no to the FBI,” Her boss muttered. “And can it with the attitude sweetheart,” He says with annoyance coursing through his voice then he leaves without a word and she can’t contain the eye roll that comes out.

“So Spencer what do you need from me, I haven’t done anything illegal so you can’t arrest me,” Y/N asks with bitterness lacing her tone as he wipes down the bar counter with a towel.

“We need to ask you about what happened to you three years ago,” The man next to Spencer tells her. She looks and sees Spencer and the man and woman next to him giving her comforting looks.

Not wanting to talk about it, she comes up with the best solution.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Y/N muttered, her voice coming out in a rasp as she looks down at the counter trying to get the stain out even though she knows it will never come out.

She hears Spencer sigh and whisper to the two people beside him and they leave the two of them alone in the silence. Well except for the music and the people yelling and talking. Y/N doesn’t want to look up because all she’ll is sympathy swarming in his eyes and she doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want or need this sympathy, especially from him.

“Y/N please,” Spencer whispers his voice, she can hear the sadness seeping through the words and she doesn’t want to look into those beautiful eyes she loves so much because she’ll just break if she does.

“What Spencer,” Y/N questioned in a tiny voice, all the confidence already leaked from her body as soon as they mentioned what happened three years ago.

Spencer put his hand on top of hers, making her stop cleaning, and gave it a tiny squeeze. She released a shaky breath she didn’t know she was holding. Feeling his touch after years is almost dreamlike, closing her eyes she refuses to look him in the eyes as he caresses the back of her hand with his thumb.

“I know this is hard,” Spencer says softly in a comforting tone that makes Y/N feel safe, and she hadn’t felt that in a while.

“I don’t know what you are talking about Spence,” Y/N rushed out continuing with the lie.

“We need to know something about the man who took you,” Spencer questioned her gently, trying to make her as comfortable as possible.

“Why do you need to know,” Y/N asks with a trembling tone, that’s when the tears finally start to brim at her eyes. Her bottom lip wobbles as her eyes stay trained on her and Spencers joined hands, stubbornly not looking him in the eyes.

“Because he has taken another woman and we need to stop him,” Spencer explains with a tender tone coursing through his words.

When Y/N finally looks at his face she almost breaks down, the same face she used to wake up to every morning, the same face she saw everyday, the same face she saw before he left. Not only seeing him makes her break but seeing the saddened expression on his face makes everything worse.

Spencer almost gasps when Y/N finally looks him in the eyes. He regrets doing this almost immediately when he sees the tears in the corner of her eyes begging for an escape. He hates it. Even though this is what he expected, he hates seeing her cry or even sad. Sometimes he hates having an eidetic memory because he remembers everything he did with her, said to her, everytime he held her, she held him. She’s different, and why wouldn’t she be, she went through a horrific experience. Spencer's thumb never stopped it’s movements, his brain still wanting to comfort her.

“What would I be doing,” Y/N asks as a lone tear trails down the apple of her cheeks. Spencer restrains himself using his hand to wipe it away.

“We would be walking you through the experience—,” Spencer began to say and Y/N immediately cut him off, removing his gentle hand from hers.

“Nope, no way, no I will not relive that,” Y/N snaps anger now lacing her tone, venom seeping through the words and Spencer understands why she wouldn't want to do this.

“I will be there with you the whole time and we won’t ask about anything that happened during the rape just about his face and your escape,” Spencer explains his voice more firm now.

“I can’t go through that again,” Y/N whimpers, biting her lip as the tears that were begging to escape finally make their run down her cheeks.

Spencer grabs both of her hands as he looks her straight in the eyes, his eyes are comforting to her and reminds her of an easier time. His face shows sadness and reassurance at the same time. Y/N looks at him in awe.

“Y/N I swear on my life that I will be by your side throughout this, I will be there when we catch this guy and he finally goes to jail,” Spencer promises with a determined tone seeping through his words. Honesty leaks through his every pore and Y/N sees that.

“Are you really going to be by my side throughout it all,” Y/N whispers as the tears don’t stop descending down her cheeks.

“Not even to get something to drink,” Spencer gives her hands a gentle squeeze.

“Well that’ll be hard with your coffee addiction,” Y/N teases slightly as tears remain on her cheeks. Spencer gives her a little smile that makes her heart beat a little faster.

“Let’s go down to the station.”

——-

She can feel Spencer's cold hands on her neck as he puts the necklace around her neck. He wanted to surprise her by getting a necklace that she’s been looking at for a few months. She was elated when she opened the gift.

The look on her face he would never let go, she looked so happy.

As soon as Spencer's hands left the back of her neck she felt even colder without his touch for some weird reason. Whenever he touched her, it made her feel empty. She hated that feeling and she felt like she couldn’t live without it. She turned around and saw Spencer give her one of his awkward adorable grins she couldn’t get enough of.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, his scent engulfed her senses and felt safe. Spencer’s arms wrapped around her shoulders as he put his head in the crook of her neck taking a deep breath, breathing in her scent of lilacs and daisies.

“Thank you so much Spence you didn’t have to do that,” Y/N whispered, her words making shivers go down his spine as she breathed on his neck. Her head went to snuggle in his chest enjoying the warmth that came from that.

“I know you’ve been wanting that for months so I wanted to do something nice for you,” Spencer whispered as he caressed her back.

“But—,” She was about to protest until Spencer interrupted her.

“I will not take no for an answer, I want you to have this, it’s the least I can do,” Spencer firmly whispers in her ear making goosebumps appear on her skin.

“What have I done for you to receive something like this,” Y/N murmured, insecurity started to fill every part of her body, she didn’t know what she did to deserve something this good.

“Just you being you,” Spencer muttered, planting a kiss on her collarbone.

Sniffling she started to feel tears brim at her eyes, not out of sadness but happiness, knowing she meant so much to him made her chest fill up with joy and happiness.

“Please don’t cry,” Spencer whispered as he felt tears stain his shirt. The only thing in life he hated to see was her hurt or her crying. He hated that he couldn’t make her feel better and make the tears stop trailing down her cheeks and make their destination on his shirt.

“Isn’t there some sort of scientific thing about crying being helpful to stress,” Y/N teasingly asked as they stood against each other. A grin etched onto her face as soon as he began to talk. Y/N loved it when he talked, his face would light up with happiness about whatever fact he was spewing, she couldn’t get enough of it.

“There are three different types of tears: reflex tears, continuous tears, and emotional tears. Emotional tears are the tears that offer the most mental health benefits. Researchers have established that crying releases oxytocin and endogenous opioids, also known as endorphins. These feel-good chemicals help ease both physical and emotional pain,” Spencer rambled making Y/N hum into his chest loving the way he gets so excited about something small as tears. The man in front of her she wanted to marry someday. She wanted to have kids, grandkids and his future with hers.

The two of them just stand there as they enjoy the warmth and presence of each other. Everything was so calm and silent you could hear a pin drop. During Spencer's ramble he moved his head to rest on hers as her head remained in his chest, taking deep breaths of his soothing scent.

“Please don’t ever leave,” Y/N asked with a whisper moving her head to the side so she could hear the consistent sound of his heart beat.

“Why would I leave you, I have everything I want here,” Spencer asked as his voice croaked a bit, feeling tears soar to the corner of his eyes.

“I hate it when you cry too, you know,” Y/N stated with a little smile traveling to the corners of her mouth.

She pulled back from his chest much to his protest and put her cold hands on his cheeks wiping the tears away. Y/N leaned on her tippy toes giving him a kiss on the corner of his mouth as her thumb drew circles on his cheek bone making him feel even more relaxed.

“Glad to know we’re on the same page length,” Spencer teased with a grin developing on his face. With the tears on his cheeks and eyes but a grin on his lips, his face looks like juxtaposition.

Y/N laughed wrapping her arms around his neck as Spencers travelled down to her waist. She leaned up and kissed him, immediately receiving a kiss back.

Spencer and Y/N stood there kissing for a minute before pulling away and just staring into each other’s eyes. His eyes sparkled as he looked deep into her soul and it felt like with one look he could just know what she was thinking. Instead of scaring her it makes her feel comforted. Like she had someone who knew her enough to know that. To have someone love her made her heart grow almost 3 sizes like the grinch.

“I’ll always love you Spence.”

“And I’ll always love you.”

——-

Y/N took a deep breath sitting in one of the conference rooms in the police station. Her knee jittering up and down was the only sound in the room. Finding the necklace around her neck she began to fiddle with the old piece of jewelry.

Even after these years she kept it. Kept it to remember him and all the good memories that he gave her. The smiles, the cuddles, the nights she just listened to him talk about random facts.

Smiling to herself she remembers when he gave the necklace to her. It wasn’t even her birthday, Christmas, or valentines. It was just a random day he decided to give it to her.

Letting shaky breaths out as she remembers those nights, those memories are the only thing that outrides the horrible memories with him. They’re the only thing keeping her safe and she felt like she was about to give that up.

Spencer stood outside the room waiting for Hotch to give him the go ahead to talk to her. He felt almost sick to his stomach with nerves. Even though he had to do this it felt like he was doing something horrible by asking her, the person he’s loved the longest, to relive the worst things that have ever happened to her.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do it Spence, she might be more comfortable with a female,” J.J. asked as she put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Emily and Derek who were standing besides Spencer knew that Spencer was the only one who could talk to her about this, but J.J. didn’t see the conversation between Spencer and Y/N.

While Spencer and Y/N were talking, Derek and Emily were watching from afar hoping she would help them find this killer. They saw her relax with him, and they knew that she needed to be relaxed to do this.

“I don’t know J.J. you didn’t see her react with Spencer, she felt comfortable with him, when she released a sigh after you put your hand on hers,” Emily says with doubt that she could be like that with J.J. Derek nodded agreeing with Emily.

“Pretty boys our only way in,” Derek says, patting Spencer on the back.

Startled Spencer jumped not even listening to the conversation he was supposed to be involved in. He was too entranced by her, the way she grasped the necklace he gave her. He smiles at the memory, and at the fact that she kept the necklace he gave her. But he also saw the way her knee kept bouncing up and down and taking deep breaths.

She was anxious. Which was understandable.

“Okay Spencer you’ll be the one to do the EMDR with her, everything’s set up in there, if she wants to take a break she’s more than welcomed to take a breath,” Hotch told Spencer as he came up to him with Rossi by his side.

“You okay kid,” Rossi asked with concern, lacing his tone.

“Yes don’t worry about me,” Spencer firmly said as he rubbed his eyes.

Everyone watched him with worried glances as he entered the room Y/N was in.

Spencer gave her a tight Smile as he stood in front of her with his fingers wringed. She gave him a smile back and he could see the tears brimming her eyes. Years later he still hated that.

“It won’t take long will it,” Y/N whispered as she felt her throat tightened as an invisible hand came up to choke her. She swallowed a little, feeling her throat start to dry up. Spencer looked at her with worryness swarming those beautiful eyes she loves so much.

“It depends on your definition of long,” Spencer responded as he took a seat next to her. She saw the light they put up in front of her and she felt her heart in her throat as they were doing that.

“Like all night long, I kinda have a dog I need to feed,” Y/N says as she releases a shaky breath she’s been holding for too long.

“It shouldn’t take that long,” Spencer answered.

“Okay what is this EMDR therapy and how does it work,” Y/N asks, she just wanted to eat this done and over with. She stands up knowing she’ll have to be eye level with the light. Spencer followed in suit standing right next to her.

“EMDR therapy is a phased, focused approach to treating trauma and other symptoms by reconnecting the traumatized person, in this case you, in a safe and measured way to the images, self-thoughts, emotions, and body sensations associated with the trauma, and allowing the natural healing powers of the brain to move toward adaptive resolution. It is based on the idea that symptoms occur when trauma and other negative or challenging experiences overwhelm the brain’s natural ability to heal, and that the healing process can be facilitated and completed through bilateral stimulation while the client is re-experiencing the trauma in the context of the safe environment of the therapist’s office. Romas Buivydas, PhD, LMHC, vice president of clinical development for Spectrum Health Systems, says EMDR therapy is an eight-phase treatment. “It identifies and addresses traumatic experiences that have overwhelmed the brain’s natural coping capacity, and, as a result, have created traumatic symptoms, such as flashbacks or anxiety, or harmful coping strategies, such as isolating behavior and self-medication with alcohol or drugs,”” Spencer explains taking multiple breaths in between breaths. Y/N looks at him in shock at the huge pile of information she has just received from him.

“Okay what type of EMDR therapy am I doing, I know there are different types,” Y/N asks with a tiny voice.

“Since you probably already saw the light we were doing the eye movement one, you’ll stand right here,” Spencer put his hands on her shoulders and moved her a little to the left. “And you’ll keep your eye on the moving light, at first I’ll ask you to have a happy memory, then we’ll move into the other stuff at your pace,” He explains.

Y/N nods and takes a deep breath while closing her eyes for a minute. She can already feel the tears try to escape from her eyes, feeling like a prisoner. Opening her eyes, Spencer notices the shine from the tears and he tries to give her a comforting smile.

“Let’s get this over with,” Y/N mutters, balling her fist at her sides.

Spencer nods going to the light stand and turning it on and she stares into the green light going back and forth. She can already see herself getting hypnotized by it. Spencer returns to her side but also gives her some space.

“Okay Y/N tell me about a memory that makes you feel happy,” Spencer asks in a hushed tone. Y/N nods as her eyes continue to follow the light.

“The memory where we first met is still one of the happiest memories that I’ve ever had,” Y/N explains as the green light fades into that memory, seeing herself talk to Spencer when the two of you were just young.

“I remember that,” Spencer smiles at the memory, remembering every minute of that day. “Anyways explain to me how you felt, or even what you smelt that day,” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, he can feel his nerves start to peak.

“I remember,” Y/N begans to say as she takes a deep breath trying to remember what it smelt like. “It smelt like spring, right after it rained and while the flowers are blooming,” She smiles as the smell of the flowers enters her nose. “Meeting you felt nervous because I’ve never had any friends and wanted to make an impression on you since you were a child prodigy,” She explains as he frowns, she’s never told him that. “But then I began to feel more happy with you when I figured out you wanted to be my friend as well,” She says as a tiny smile begins to form on her lips.

“Now tell me about what you saw and what did you feel,” Spencer asks, scratching his jaw as he looks at her, stilling following the light. He knows he’s gonna have to ask the hard hitting questions soon and he’s not looking forward to it.

“I saw the park filled with little kids who look like they’re having the times of their lives, I also see you talking to me and I feel nervous since I’ve always been a pretty shy kid,” Y/N mutters as she picks at the skin around her nails. She feels herself finally relaxed as she stands in the memory.

“Are you ready to move onto the other questions,” Spencer quietly asks, feeling his heart beat against his chest as he asks her. Y/N bites her lip, her eyes on the lights and is still deep in the memory. As much as she doesn’t want to do this she has to, she has to do this for other women who can get their lives saved.

“Yes,” Y/N answers quickly.

“Okay now go back to the night that you escaped, what did you feel against your skin, look around you what do you see,” Spencer questions trying to pressure her, to make her overwhelmed.

The memory changes right in front of her and now she’s lying on the bed with her arms tied around her back. She can feel cloth in her mouth as her body aches.

“I feel myself on a cot or bed thing with ropes that are tied behind my back and my feet are tied as well. There’s a cloth in my mouth to keep me from screaming,” Y/N explains with a quiver in her tone. She looks around and notices she’s in the middle of the room, the bed frame. Looking across the room, she notices the door that’s cracked a little and sees the light. “I’m in a room and there’s a door across from me and it’s open, and all I’m thinking is this is my chance,” She explains as tears stroll down her cheeks. “There’s a knife on a table across from the bed.”

“What do you do next Y/N,” Spencer cautiously asks, not trying to press any buttons.

“I get up and hop to get the knife, I turn around and pick up the knife and carefully start to cut up the rope,” Y/N quietly explains as Spencer watches her intently. “Usually rope is thick but this is thin and it’s tight,” She explains herself even though she didn’t have to. “Anyways it takes me about 5 minutes to get the dam rope off and once I’m free I take off the rope from around my feet and the cloth that was inside my mouth,” She rushes out as she feels anger course her body.

“Okay slow down and look around the room, do you see anything that stands out that might identify this guy,” Spencer asks in a comforting tone and she feels safe whenever he talks. She doesn’t understand it but maybe it’s because she knows him.

Y/N looks around the room and notices something on the dresser where the knife was at. “I see a picture frame and he’s in it,” Y/N says with panic in her voice as she hears something down stairs.

“Who else is in the picture Y/N,” Spencer asks as he starts to get somewhere.

“I don’t know I hear something down stairs,” Y/N explains harshly. “It takes my attention away from the picture.”

“What’d you hear,” Spencer quickly asks.

“Children laughing along with a woman telling them to calm down,” Y/N explains as tears continue to spill out of her eyes. “I hear his voice and I know it’s my only chance, I hear the door close and I carefully walk to the window and look outside of it and I see him and he’s looking straight at me,” Y/N whispered horsey as her throat tightens as he sees his hard stare. “I have to go, I have to get out of this house before he gets me again. I run down the stairs and head straight out the back door just in my tank top and shorts and run like hell not looking behind me because all I know is he’s right behind me to bring me back to that hellhole,” She she’s out as she looks away from the light and a sobs rakes through her body.

She puts her hand on her mouth to subdue the cries but she knows the escape right through her fingers.

“It’s okay you’re safe now,” Spencer coos her as he steps towards her. She turns around him with tears pouring through. “Don’t worry you’re not there with him anymore,” He whispers.

As she sobs she wraps her arms around his waist and cries into his chest. Immediately he wraps his arms around her shoulders as he whispers comforting words into her ear telling her she’s fine and she’s safe now. He caresses her back trying to comfort her more.

“Did I help,” Y/N shakily asks in between sobs as she looks up at him with tear stained cheeks, whilst tears are still pouring out.

“You did but you don’t have to worry about that now,” Spencer whispers as she nods. “Okay breath in and out copy my breathing,” He says. He takes a deep breath and she follows breathing. He breathes out and she follows again. He does this a few more times until she feels calmer than before.

Resting her head on his chest he rubs her arms up and down softly trying to soothe her. He kisses the top of her head as he brings them down to sit on the couch where she almost immediately curled up to his side.

Even though Spencer’s mind should be on the case, and should be going out of the room to debrief with his teammates, all he could think about was Y/N. She was the only thing on his mind as she let out tiny sobs into his chest, he couldn’t just leave her especially in this state. She needed him and he was going to be here to help her through this.

His hand was trailing down her back, doing a soothing technique and it worked. He could feel her breathing start to slow down and her sobs start to die down and she was now starting to feel a bit drowsy. Letting her rest her head on his chest, she dug her head even further into his shirt as she began to fall asleep.

Spencer didn’t care. She needed this. Some sleep after this stressful day.

As soon as she was asleep Spencer took this time to examine her, she was relaxed. It made him happy that she could get some restful sleep. He brought his hand to her forehead and brushed some of the hair away and leaned down to peck it. He froze as he felt her shuffle but then relaxed as she immediately fell asleep again.

The hand on her back never stopped caressing as he wanted to make sure she could get more sleep. He was going to have to move soon, his teams going to need help with the case but for the moment he could sit here and comfort her while she slept.

On the other side of the room the team looked in on them in shock about what they just heard.

“We never profiled that he had a family,” J.J whispered, still a little in shock. The team tore their gaze away from Spencer and Y/N and went to the whiteboard where the information was laid out.

“It might not be the family, just the father and the others oblivious,” Derek suggested sitting on the edge of one of the desks.

“I mean I get the kids not knowing that there's some woman upstairs in a room but the wife has to know something, any wife would be suspicious that her husband would be sneaking out of the room and into another. She can't be that naive,” Emily explained her theory.

“You’re right she’s either involved or just knows and doesn’t say anything to protect her family,” Hotch says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It could be out of fear,” Rossi suggested.

“I don’t think so if it was out of fear it seems like she would’ve gotten out of his household a long time ago, at least to protect her kids from some rapist murder,” JJ interjected.

“We’ll figure this out later when we catch the guy for now let’s get Garcia on the phone.”

——-

Feeling someone shake her away Y/N shot up from Spencer’s chest as he looked at her with guilt. She stretched her arms looking at the clock, noticing it was late, 12:00 am late. Letting out a yawn she stands up trying to get her bones less stiff.

“Sorry for waking you but my team has just had a breakthrough and we might have found the guy,” Spencer says standing up right beside her. Y/N widened her eyes in shock and little happiness. Spencer can see it in her face, hope, hope for the man who did this to her is finally going to be caught and brought to justice. Her eyes lit up like the sun when he said those words.

“Really,” Y/N gasped out.

“Yes but I need you to look at some pictures to see if this is the right guy, if you don’t want to do this-,” Spencer began to say but was interrupted by Y/N.

“No let me see him so you can lock this bastard in jail where he’ll never ever see the light of day,” Y/N snapped as she felt fire coursing through her body. She could feel the heat crawling up her body and to her face as she became angrier and wanting to find this guy.

“Okay,” Spencer responded calmly, a little surprised by her outburst but he knows it’s understandable. He grabbed out a picture that Hotch printed out and gave it to her. “Is it him,” He asks as her eyes scanned the picture.

It was. He could see it in her eyes. The panic, the fear. Looking at her now suddenly stiff body he could definitely see it. Her fingers squeezed around the paper and it crumpled a bit, her breathing began to become more and more shallow. Feeling her heart in her throat while looking at the man of her nightmares, she tried to say it was him but her breathing couldn’t let her do it. She could feel his hands around her throat again as if he was really here choking the life out of her.

Spencer took the picture of the man out of her hand and wrapped his arms around her shoulder as she buried her head into the crook of his neck as she finally broke down crying. His hand returned to her back and began to caress again trying to soothe her. But all he could feel was her sobs coursing throughout her whole entire body. All Spencer could do now was hold her while she cried her heart out.

Looking up Spencer nodded to Hotch who was on the other side of the glass. Deciding to leave them alone Hotch went back to the team as they found the address of the guy and were preparing to go and arrest him, and possibly his wife.

While the team was out getting the guy Spencer stayed back with Y/N, trying to keep her calm. Eventually she dosed down the crying and removed herself from his chest and looked up with tear stained cheeks.

“Are they gonna go get him now,” Y/N asks while whispering it in a hoarse manner. Her throat was almost raw from the crying and it was starting to affect her.

“Yeah they just left 22 minutes ago, it shouldn’t be much time since the guy was staying in a cabin and it’s not a long drive unless there’s traffic and that’s a whole different story,” Spencer rambled which made Y/N crack a smile. She loves his little rambles.

“I’m so glad you came here,” Y/N whispered as she wrapped her arms around her body, starting to feel insecure. “If you hadn’t this guy might have killed more girls and haunted the life out of me for the rest of my life,” She murmured under her breath.

“I missed you,” Spencer mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact with her as he rubbed the back of his hand, a self soothing manner he’s learned.

“I missed you too,” Y/N whispered, her hand was going to one of her scars but Spencer caught it before it made contact with her skin. She looked at him confused.

“You don’t need to do that anymore, he’s going away for life,” Spencer whispered as he stepped closer to her. His voice was firm but soft and comforting at the same time.

Before Y/N could say anything she looked out the window that stood near the door and saw him. He was in handcuffs as he had a black eye. She gasped as she saw a woman who was right behind him, also handcuffed.

She turned around, letting a gasp out in relief.

“See he won't ever hurt you again and I will make sure of it myself that he gets the maximum penalty and he will never ever see anything besides a four by four cell,” Spencer says with a twinge of anger seeping into his veins and he hopes he hadn’t scared her with his angry rant.

Instead of being scared she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head into his shoulder and let out a few tears but instead of being sad and out of fear, this time it was happy. She was happy that this made could never ever hurt anyone including her. Although she knows his face will haunt her nightmares forever she can have the peace of knowing he can't hurt anyone.

“Thank you so much Spencer,” Y/N trembled against his frame as relief flooded her body. His arms immediately went to her waist hugging her back.

“We wouldn’t have been able to have done it without your help,” Spencer whispered in her ear.

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messers-moony · 3 years

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So Perfect | J.P

Paring: Young!James Potter X Fem!Lupin!Reader

Summary: James falls in love with a bookstore called, Lupin’s Library, and can’t believe what they’re going through.

The bookstore was quiet most days. It was a tiny little two-story shop in London. The idea was it had a book for everyone. On the second story was a living quarter for the two siblings that worked at the shop. It was a small two-bedroom apartment, but it did what it was needed to do.

Remus and Y/n Lupin were the owners of the shop. It was their eighteenth birthday gift from their parents. Growing up, their parents didn’t have much, so for them, it means a lot. The name of the shop was something simple - Lupin’s Library - but inside held memories that they would cherish forever.

When they started the business, it was slow. Most days, no one would enter, and Y/n worked a separate job to help Remus pay the bills. But after a year it seemed that people preferred the shop over any other place in London. They enjoy the warmness of Remus’ smile and the radiant happiness from Y/n.

Remus worked behind the counter at the register, and when there wasn’t a customer, he was reading on the stool he sat on. Y/n did inventory and stocked books. She didn’t like to sit still, preferring to be on her feet moving around. Sometimes early in the morning, she’d grab donuts to leave on the front counter for early customers.

There was nothing like Lupin’s Library, and that’s why people loved it.

The bell-ringing announced a new customer into the shop. It was a tiny ding, nothing majorly loud. Y/n was stocking books while Remus was sleeping upstairs in his room. Over the past winter, he had caught a nasty cold leaving Y/n to take over the bookstore until he got better while also trying to take care of him.

“One moment, and I’ll be with you!” Y/n called as she slipped the last book into place.

She skipped to make it behind the counter where she met a man about her age - twenty-five. He was taller than her, maybe just around six feet. His hair was messy and curled slightly at the ends. His eyes were a beautiful hazel, and he radiated a certain playfulness Y/n could get used to.

“Mornin’ sir!” James was taken away by her light and fluffy accent, “What can I do for you today?”

He smiled, “Looking for something to read for my son.”

“How old is he?”

“He’s about to turn five.” James smiled proudly.

“That’s adorable!” Y/n gushed, “Any way we have magic treehouse books, maybe he’d like those?”

“Maybe, he’s been begging for new books.” James ran a hand through his hair, “It’s the only way I can get him to calm down.”

Y/n smiled, “You know, on Saturdays, I read to kids. If you want him to join us, he’s more than welcome. Saturdays, I read to kids five to nine. Sundays, I read to kids from ten to fifteen.”

“Wow,” James replied, “I’d love to take him in if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all!” She smiled, “Everyone’s welcome.”

James gave a grin in response as he searched the Library for these Magic Treehouse books. It took him five minutes before even finding the kids section, but when he did, James grabbed the set of them. He placed each book on top of another and brought them to the counter of the pretty girl.

He watched at how gently and smoothly she moved the books to scan them. James was so focused he didn’t even notice her handing him the books and the receipt, “But I didn’t-“

“It’s on the house.” Y/n replied, “I’ll see you Saturday.”

James’ face flushed; he hadn’t felt this way since Lily, “I’ll- um- see you Saturday….”

He walked out of the shop with a happy smile placed on his face. James hadn’t felt flustered and nervous around a girl since Lily in seventh grade. He had been head over heels for her since then. They began dating in sophomore year and had Harry right out of high school. It was poor planning on their part, but Harry was everything James had dreamed of. It wasn’t until Harry’s second birthday when Lily said she couldn’t take it anymore.

Not only had it broken James’ heart, but it broke Harry’s too. Harry had no idea where his momma had gone. What broke James’ heart the most was Lily saying she wanted absolutely nothing to do with either of them. Lily had placed the engagement ring on the wooden table, collected her things, and left, just like that.

Then it was just them against the world. James and his little mini-me, as Sirius would say. Sirius was the one who recommended the bookshop. He wouldn’t shut up about how cute the boy behind the register was (“Oh James, his hair looks so fluffy!”). It was like hearing a broken record. James didn’t see the boy with fluffy hair, but he did see the girl with the radiant smile.

That night James sat beside Harry in his twin bed. Harry was thrilled to see the new books on his shelf, and as James began reading, Harry became more hooked with each page. When James shut the book, Harry was devastated. He wanted to know more and finish the book! Alas, he had to go to sleep, and if he did, James promised him that they’d finish the book tomorrow.

When James brought up going to Lupin’s Library on Saturdays, Harry was ecstatic! He couldn’t wait to meet the new kids and begin a new book. By the time Saturday rolled around, they had finished two of the Magic Treehouse books. James entered the shop with Harry in front of him, hands on the little boy's shoulders. Now at the counter, he saw the boy with fluffy hair.

“Good afternoon, sir.” He greeted in the same soft accent, “Here for the kids reading circle?”

Harry nodded, and the boy chuckled, “Great. It’s just in that back corner.”

James thanked him before bringing Harry to the back corner, where kids were already sat on a rug. Blankets were spread among some of them, and the girl was sitting on a chair in the corner while the kids made a semi-circle around her. James beckoned Harry to sit, and James smiled at the girl in the chair.

As the reading began, James decided to venture through the bookstore. The bookshelves were surprisingly clean and rid of any dust. The books were taken care of, not a crease or bent page unless he went into the used section. Some people preferred new books; some preferred used. There truly was a book for everyone in here.

He made his way back to the front desk with some books he had gained from the shelves. A multitude of paperbacks and gently placed them on the counter. Remus put a bookmark in his book and began to scan each book just as smoothly as the girl. His hands didn’t seem as soft. They looked calloused and scarred. Sirius’ type, all the way.

“You wouldn’t happen to see a boy with straight black hair in here sometimes?” Remus quirked an eyebrow, “Wears ripped jeans and a leather jacket?”

Remus smiled, “Yes, we get him in here quite frequently.”

“Do you mind if I got your number for him?” James questioned, “He’s talked the world of you and your bookstore.”

“It’s not just my bookstore.” Remus correctly playfully, “My sister works it with me, who I see you’ve been well acquainted with.”

James’ face flushed pink, “I didn’t- I don’t-“

“It’s fine.” Remus replied, handing him the books and the receipt, “She’s a big girl. I trust her to make her own decisions.”

“I didn’t pay for these.”

“You can thank my sister.” Remus winked as he sat on the stool and began reading.

James grunted at not paying again. He rummaged through his wallet and placed forty pounds in the tip jar. Remus chuckled and shook his head at the gesture, appreciative nonetheless of the man's kindness. Another thirty minutes went by, and Harry was running back into his dad's arms.

“That was awesome!” Harry exclaimed softly, “She was so nice! She gave us lollipops!”

“Did she?” James asked, and Harry nodded.

Y/n smiled softly as she joined Remus behind the counter, grabbing some books to stamp while all the kids filed out to find their parents, “Looks like we’ll be back next Saturday.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Y/n replied, “I’ll look forward to it.”

Harry smiled, “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

James and Harry walked out of Lupin’s Library together with smiles on their faces. Harry wouldn’t stop jumping with joy the entire day. He couldn’t get over how lovely the lady was and how she gave him a lollipop. Truthfully, it was the little things when it came to kids. Remus chuckled as they left the library together.

“He quite likes you, I’d say.”

“Little kids like anyone who give them candy.”

“I don’t mean the boy.” Remus replied, “I mean the adult who seems quite fond of you.”

Y/n hmphed, “And what about the man who wears the leather jacket and the straight black hair?”

Remus blushed, “‘Oh, Y/n, he’s so perfect.’” Y/n mocked.

“You’re annoying.” Remus nudged her with his elbow.

“Love you too.”

It wasn’t until Wednesday when he came back in again. Y/n had been absent from the shop due to having to help her friend bartend. Despite working at the bookshop full time, she still had a part-time job bartending. If she spent the whole day at the bar, then she spent the entire night at the bookstore. Working two jobs was no easy feat, but she did it.

James walked in and wandered aimlessly after not seeing or hearing her. Remus smiled amusedly as he walked in and continued to read his book. James felt the spines of the books but never plucked one from the shelf. Remus got tired of his lost puppy look and finally called to him.

“She’s not here, you know.”

“Oh,” James muttered, “Where- Where is she?”

Remus placed his book down after bending the corner of the page, “Helping a friend.”

“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” James replied nervously as he went to walk out the door.

“Wait!” Remus called, and James turned, “I can- um- I can give you her schedule if you want.”

“Schedule?” James questioned, “She doesn’t work here full time?”

Remus shook his head, “No, she works part-time at a bar around the block. It helps-“ He scratched the back of his neck, “It helps pay the bills.”

“You guys don’t make enough to stay in business?”

“No, we don’t.” Remus murmured, “I can't really do much else other than work here, so Y/n took up another job. Which she hates, and it drains her.”

James was appalled. These people were so nice and kind. How weren’t they making enough to stay in business? Remus looked utterly embarrassed by the whole thing, confessing to a customer that they were struggling. James, himself, was a Nephrologists at a hospital not too far away. His family was small, and he made a lot of money.

Without another word, James left the shop leaving Remus in a confused state. He walked to an ATM that was only a couple of blocks away before pulling out a decent amount of cash. James walked back into the bookstore and placed an envelope on the counter. Remus stared at it confused as he got on his own two feet to open it. As he peeled back the seal, he saw what was inside.

“I’m sorry, I can’t-“

“Please.” James begged, “Harry would be devastated if his favorite place went out of business.”

Remus had tears in his eyes as he placed the money beneath the counter, “Thank you. You have no idea what this means. Our parents bought this shop with almost nothing, and we’ve been trying, but it’s so hard.”

“Well,” James began, “I don’t know if I could live with myself if this place was gone, especially after knowing you’re guys’ kindness.”

Remus smiled and grabbed a piece of paper with a calendar on it. At the bottom, he wrote his and Y/n’s names along with their phone numbers. His handwriting was tidy and curvy. Remus handed the piece of paper to him, and James took it gratefully.

“It’s Y/n’s schedule along with her part-time bartending job. Our numbers are at the bottom.” Remus motioned to the calendar and at the numbers on the bottom.

“Thank you, Remus.” James smiled as he pulled out a business card from his wallet, “Obviously, you don’t need me to be your doctor, but my number is on the card if either of you needs anything.”

Remus took the two cards gently, “Thank you, James. We really won’t forget this.”

“I’m glad.” James smiled, “Because I won’t forget you two.”

He left the bookstore with a skip in his step. It felt good to do that. James hadn’t felt this happy since Harry was born, but now he felt like himself again. He felt like that energized boy from middle school who was always destined to be great.

James didn’t know what it was like to be poor. He grew up with his parents being doctors. They made decent money, and James always got what he wanted. They lived with the higher class. It made his heart ache that Remus and Y/n, who were so sweet we’re struggling. He couldn’t take it. He had to do something. It felt good to do that something.

Around the block was a bar called Whiskey Woes. It was old and rugged-looking. The black stone bricks seemed to be cracking in every spot. It made James grimace. Walking inside was even worse. The pungent smell of older men with no taste for cologne made him scrunch his nose. But behind the counter, he saw an exhausted girl who was giving it her all to get tips.

James made his way to sit on a barstool, and sluggishly Y/n made her way to him, “Good afternoon, sir! What can I getcha today?”

“A glass of water?” James replied, lifting his head, and Y/n let out a visible sigh of relief, “‘Course.”

A minute of running around the bar later, a glass of water was placed in front of him, “How’s work, Y/n?”

“How’d you find out my name?”

“Well, your name tag says it.” James pointed, “And I went by the bookstore today.”

Y/n hummed, “Remus tell you where I work, huh?”

“Yeah.” James replied, stirring his water with his straw, “And I want you to quit.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want you to quit working at this shithole.” James repeated, “And take this.”

Another envelope was passed to her across the bar. Y/n eyed him as she broke the glued seal on the white paper. Inside she saw cash, and it didn’t look like just a tiny amount either. Y/n’s face showed visible shock, and James smiled sheepishly.

“Consider it a tip.”

“This is more than a tip.” Y/n chuckled, “This is like three of my yearly salaries.”

James’ smile faltered just a tiny bit, “You don’t belong here. You belong at the bookstore with Remus. You don’t seem happy here, and Remus sees it too. Says you come home exhausted and drained.”

“Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Maybe go on a date with me?”

Y/n blushed, “A date?”

“Yeah, a date.” James muttered.

“I think you deserve a lot more than a date.” Y/n replied, and James smirked, “Only if you’ll let me.”

She laughed, and it made his stomach flutter. It was a sound he wanted to hear forever. It made his heart flip and the corners of his lips quirk. The way she tilted her head back and how her hair flowed as she did so—the crinkle of her nose and the creases of her eyes as she shut them tightly.

She was so perfect.

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