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spectaclespencer · 3 years

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P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.

Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.

Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)

Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)

Word Count; 7.2k

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‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.

When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.

However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.

I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.

Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.

I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.

The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.

Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.

“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.

“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.

I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.

If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.

I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.

Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.

Leaving me with Spencer.

I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.

I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.

“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.

My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-

“____?”

“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.

I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.

“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”

“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.

-----

“I cannot go back in there.”

“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.

“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.

“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”

I fake laughed, ignoring her question.

Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.

But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.

The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.

About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.

I started noticing more little things after that.

Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.

He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.

It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.

My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.

‘I just been fantasizin' (size)

And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.

“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.

“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.

“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.

“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”

“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

No objection from Emily or JJ there.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.

“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”

“You’re both adults, ____.”

“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”

“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”

“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”

“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”

I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”

Even though I definitely wanted to.

They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.

After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.

“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.

Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.

He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.

His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.

“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.

Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.

The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?

The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.

I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.

I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.

Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.

The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.

And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.

Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.

It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.

I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.

“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”

I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.

He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,

I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.

It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.

A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.

It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.

“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.

“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.

I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.

“Do you not like it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.

People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.

I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.

They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?

It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.

I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.

When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.

It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.

“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.

Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.

“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.

“It hurts!”

“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”

I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.

“You’re going to need to hold me down.”

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.

Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.

I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.

Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.

“Get on my back.”

“Are you insane?”

“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”

Right.

“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”

He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.

‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby

Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’

I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.

He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…

“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.

His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.

It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.

I was an awful person.

Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.

I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.

Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

“Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.

“____-”

“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”

I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.

Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”

The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”

“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.

I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.

“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”

“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”

Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.

I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.

I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.

However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.

“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.

“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.

“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”

“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”

She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.

“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.

“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”

“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”

I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.

But that just made it all the more exciting.

“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.

“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.

My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.

The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.

“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.

I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.

“Says who?” I panicked.

“Uhh...Hotch did.”

Great.

“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.

I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.

When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.

“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.

“I…”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.

He didn’t find any.

“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”

My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.

“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”

“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.

“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”

I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.

“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”

He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.

“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.

“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”

He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.

After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.

“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.

He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.

“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”

“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.

“L-lots of stuff.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”

I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.

“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”

‘You're exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’

“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.

He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.

He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.

‘And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.

“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.

“Do you not want me to?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.

“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.

“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”

His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”

“What?”

I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.

“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.

He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.

“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.

“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.

He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.

“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,

It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.

“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”

“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.

I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.

Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.

I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.

“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.

I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.

“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Understandable.

I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”

He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.

“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”

‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)

Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’

He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.

I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.

“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”

“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”

He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.

“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.

“Uh-huh.”

He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.

“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”

“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.

“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.

He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.

“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.

“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”

I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.

“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.

“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.

He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.

“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.

I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”

He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.

He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.

The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.

He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.

I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.

“I’m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”

“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”

He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.

He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.

It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.

We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.

“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.

“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”

“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”

“____,” he blushed. “I-”

“No! No, let me finish. Please.”

He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”

“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.

“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”

“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.

“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”

-----

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n0bamak1s · 3 years

Text

clueless - maki zenin x reader

request: “I was thinking Maki Zenin x Fem reader where y/n is really intimidated by Maki and has avoided her since they first met each other. Despite that, they both have feelings for each other and after a while Maki gets annoyed with y/n and confronts her to figure out why she keeps avoiding Maki. And then the reader accidentally confesses and says something like “how could I not feel intimidated by someone so hot!?”” - @wh0legrain

summary: it’s difficult for you to read maki’s intent when she tries to become more approachable to you, which throws of your plan of trying to avoid her at all costs. alternatively titled: maki zenin is terrible at flirting (genre: fluff, attempt at humor, idiots to lovers)

warnings: like one or two swear words, mentions of bruises/scrapes from training

word count: 2.6k

a/n: i honestly had so much fun with the dynamic between maki and reader here! i love the idea that maki would have no idea how to flirt lmao

“don’t look now, but she’s looking at you again.” panda, your current sparring partner, peered at her over your shoulder as you got into a fighting position. of course, out of curiosity you immediately turned around, and unluckily for your own ego, you made direct eye contact with maki. she seemed to have no intent of backing down from your impromptu staring contest, intense black eyes remaining on you, and had you not been so focused on trying to figure out what had caused this sudden interest in you, you’d have noticed the amused glint in her eyes.

did she really have no shame in being caught staring at you?

before giving yourself any more time to process her expression, you whipped your head back around to face panda. at least you were able to take note of the amusement on his face.

“i don’t get why she keeps glaring at me.” you huffed annoyedly, still feeling her gaze burn into the back of your head. shouldn’t she be busy sparring with inumaki? “if it’s about that one time i borrowed her uniform skirt because mine was in the wash, she should be more mad about inumaki and gojo taking it every time she’s on a mission to try it on.”

panda had a shocked expression on his face, as if to ask why the hell you knew about the boys prancing around in the girl’s skirts whenever the opportunity arose, but it was quickly wiped off to be replaced by a knowing sort of smile.

“no, i doubt that’s why.” his voice rang with the sing-songy sound of knowing something you didn’t, but you simply chose to raise an annoyed eyebrow at his annoying little game rather than question him.

even as you ran at him, fists raised defensively, you swore you could still feel a pair of sleek eyes trailing your movements. you slid to dodge panda’s swing at you, leaving a layer of dirt on the hem of your shorts. despite succeeding in avoiding sparring with maki, which admittedly sounded absolutely brutal, you felt extremely ungrateful for panda’s strength as he lifted you up by the wrist. somehow he managed to end up with you flipped onto your back, despite your best efforts to sweep his legs out from under him. if losing to a literal panda in a fight wasn’t embarrassing enough, it didn’t help that this was the moment maki had decided to suddenly start paying attention to you, a fact you became acutely aware of as she hovered over you, her figure shadowed by the sun behind you.

“you okay?” she cocked an eyebrow, extending a hand to pull you to your feet, making you suddenly conscious of how her legs were positioned on either side of you, so you laid beneath her. when you were unable to sputter out a response, she sighed softly, leaning down so she knelt with her knees resting on the dirt on either side of your thighs. a hand waves in front of your face, and makis brows furrow slightly. “did you hit your head or something because of that idiot?” she cocked a thumb at your sparring partner.

something about her sudden proximity seemed to shock you out of your distracted daze, making you push yourself up so you held yourself by palms flat on the ground. taking note of how close your face was to hers, the corners of her mouth turned up in a smirk, her lips parting slightly to show her teeth. you weren’t even sure if she was aware of the fact that she was smiling right now, or the effect she was having on your already embarrassed state as she leaned over you, her figure shadowing yours.

why was she so intent on making fun of you?

“i’m fine!” you managed to blurt out, pulling your knees close to you to escape the compromising position she’d put the both of you in.

her eyes remained playfully narrowed and her lips turned up, but as she opened her mouth to say something, you practically sprung up from the ground as if you weren’t bruised and tired from fighting, turning on your heel to go back to panda. you flashed an awkwardly apologetic smile, before shrouding yourself in panda’s shadow.

you found yourself grateful for the shadow panda cast on you, as it shielded your eyes from the sun, and the glare you knew was inevitably resting behind maki’s glasses.

the four of you remained sparring until the first glimpse of heavy gray clouds masqueraded the blistering sun. you helped panda up from where he’d laid on the ground, spotting out of the corner of your eye none other than gojo, who looked almost comical inspecting the state of the sky with his usual dopey smile while still adorning his iconic blindfold. had you not known any better, you’d say he looked like a complete idiot.

on the other hand, maki, who did know better, seemed to have no problem stating that he did, in fact, look like a complete idiot.

“so are you just gonna stand there all day, moron? or do you actually have something important to say for once.” maki crossed her arms over her chest, making her jacket taut over her muscles, catching your attention for the briefest of moments. you quickly averted your eyes back to gojo in hopes of not being caught staring as she had earlier, as if you were a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. though you couldn’t see gojos eyes, you could sense a sort of mischief from him as he smiled at you. was today just some weird holiday where people stared at you for no reason that no one had informed you about?

“you guys seem to have the sky on your side today.” gojo smiled widely as his gaze flickered between the four of you lined up in front of him. “since it seems to be about to rain, you guys can get off a little early today, just go clean up in the bathrooms if you need to.” he waved his hands at you all, in a motion that seemed to be shooing you away.

you begin to feel the beginnings of drizzling rain hitting the tip of your nose, and the top of your head, and take that as your cue to leave. letting out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding in, you unzipped and shrugged off your hoodie, throwing it over your shoulder as you turned towards the heavy doors of the school building. you’d only gotten a couple steps closer than you’d been before you heard the familiar sound of your name, called from the less familiar source that was maki zenin.

“wait up!” she called, taking long strides to catch up to you. “if we’re cleaning up now, i’ll come with you and i can help you if you got scraped or anything.” her hand rubbed the back of her neck, and a soft smile cracked onto her lips, egging you on to respond.

you furrowed your brows slightly. she had never bothered to help you out like this before, so what made it different. “i think i’ll be fine.” you hoped your embarrassment at the idea of the situation didn’t show on your face.

“tch, it’s not like i’m planning to kill you in there or anything.” honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if she had been. “it’ll just be weird if we’re both patching ourselves up in silence when there’s clearly a more efficient way to do it.”

screw her for always being correct.

you nodded your head in agreement in a way that was comically defeated. she motioned for you to follow her, and so you trailed behind her like a lost puppy.

though you had no way to prove it, you could’ve sworn that gojo winked at you from underneath his blindfold as you passed him.

the two of you walked in silence that seemed comfortable for you, but maki seemed clearly impatient.

“i wanted to check on you and ask if you were alright.” she broke the silence, pulling off her rain stained glasses to wipe them on the edge of her shorts. “you seemed really frazzled earlier, so if you hit your head or something we can take you to shoko, i wouldn’t want you to get seriously hurt or something.”

you were somewhat surprised by her words, but feigned indifference as you smiled reassuringly. “i’m fine, was just kinda lost in my thoughts earlier. guess you kinda just caught me off guard.” you were telling the truth, so why did it feel as if you were lying straight through your teeth?

as she swung open the girls bathroom door, she gave you an incredulous look, as if she was trying to recall the events of the day that could have made you so tense. you hoisted yourself up to sit on the sink, leaning back with a sigh of relief from finally relaxing your muscles. maki grabbed the small first aid kit, positioning herself to stand between your legs,a position that was oddly reminiscent of when you’d been on the field earlier. she caught your wrist in your hand, causing you to jump slightly as her eyes scanned your forearm, riddled with some bruises from training, but nothing that really needed cleaning.

“what could i have possibly done to catch you off guard?” her words sounded concerned, but contrasted the teasing smile playing at her lips. under the fluorescent lights, you could make out the flush tinted on her cheeks from being outside all day, as if she’d been kissed by the sun herself.

suddenly you felt very shy, twiddling with your thumbs in your lap, and willing your eyes anywhere but where they’d meet maki’s. to her, your current flustered state was an amusing contrast to how you were when fighting curses, your usual confident and strong willed demeanor had been replaced with the attitude of a bashful school girl. still, you knew you’d have to be confrontational in this moment.

“please stop teasing me, maki.” you looked her dead in the eyes, wiping the amusement from her face, and swapping it with a mixture of shock and worry.

“i’m not making fun of you.” she shook her head, her already pink dusted cheeks turning more red. “what makes you think I am?”

you chucked humourlessly. “well if the glaring at me wasn’t enough, you seem to keep trying to embarrass me. if it’s because of that time i borrowed your skirt without telling you, i really am sorry, but stop trying to make fun of me.”

“when did you borrow my skirt? i always just assume it’s the boys being idiots. you can borrow my skirt anytime you want.” you wished you could be mad at her for her nonchalance. “besides, YOU’RE the one who’s always avoiding me, panda told me i should try to be more approachable, so i thought eye contact might help.” she shrugged exasperatedly, placing her hands flat on sink, resting on either side of your thighs.

“well, you don’t exactly have the most approachable face when you’re making ‘eye contact.’ you had me thinking you were plotting my downfall in your head or something.” she stifled a laugh at your overdramatization. “it was totally intimidating.”

“oh?” her smile was dopey, one that only you would be flustered by. “does that mean i make you nervous?” her voice was hushed as she tilted her head downwards toward you, looking satisfied with herself.

“well you’re gonna make anyone nervous if you’re sending them death glares one second and offering to clean their wounds the next.”

her only response was a laugh as she buried her face in her hands. it wasn’t a mean laugh, not one directed at you, more so just her laughing at what idiots the both of you were being.

“you really thought i hated you?” her words were spaced apart by involuntary giggles, her mouth was stretched into a wide grin, almost like one from gojo. “man, i thought i was so obvious!” she turned to hoist herself next to you on the sink, leaning her head on your shoulder as her whole body shook from laughter.

you said nothing in response, just processing if this moment was real. you’d hardly seen maki smile before today, let alone laugh.

“you mean to tell me you’ve spent all this time avoiding me because you thought i hated you?” admittedly, when she repeated it back to you after her outburst of laughter, it did sound rather ridiculous. but to be fair, she should’ve considered the possibility before her sorry attempt to be more approachable.

“it’s not my fault you scare the crap out of me, i mean, how could i not be intimidated by someone so hot!” your mouth moves faster than your brain, and she lifts her head from your shoulder, making you hyper aware of both your words and your sudden proximity to her face.

shit.

your eyes are wide as saucers as you stare at her, convinced that, like a dinosaur, if you don’t move, she won’t even notice you’re there. much to your dread, she smiles yet again (seriously, today alone make up a solid 90% of the times you’d ever seen her smile.)

“you’re such a dumbass, you know?” you can hear the laughter threatening to bubble up in her voice. you wish you could come up with a clever comeback, but you just stared back, moth gaping like a fish out of water. “the reason i was asking panda for advice was because i like you. in hindsight, i suppose he’s probably not the most reliable when it comes to relationship advice.”

“all you really got out of following his advice was making a fool out of me.” you looked down at your feet. “but i guess i kind of did that myself anyways.”

“don’t beat yourself up about it. it’s cute.” she leaned forward so she was in your peripheral, willing you to look at her. “plus if you weren’t such an idiot, i’d have to keep sending you ‘death glares’, as you like to call them, to get your attention.” she chuckled, and you lifted your hand to shove her playfully, before she caught your wrist effortlessly, tugging slightly so you could feel her breath fan on your face.

once again, your mouth moved before you had time to think. “maki...can i kiss you?” you’d taken note of how her eyes darted between your eyes and your lips.

it was her turn to be bashful now. she nodded slowly, her eyes half lidded, as she dared to close the small amount of distance between the both of you. without second thought, you press your lips to hers tenderly, letting your arms loop around her neck, hands meeting between her shoulder blades. her eyelashes tickle your face as they flutter closed, with her hands balancing her, palms flat on the sink counter. the pitter pattering sound of rain from outside echoed in you ears.

the kiss is messy and awkward, but in that moment, you felt on top of the world, smiling into it without a care in the world as your fingers played with the ends of her ponytail. you break away reluctantly for air, taking in the dopey smile on her face, and the way her hands reached to grab yours to hold in her own, rubbing small circles in the back of your hand with her calloused thumb. her breathing is soft and steady, clearly still readjusting after your kiss. wordlessly, she leans forward to rest her head on your shoulder, so you can feel her breath hit the crook of your neck, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“thank god you’re such an idiot.”

#maki zenin x reader #maki zenin x you #maki x reader #zenin maki x reader #maki zenin x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk imagines #maki zenin imagine #maki zenin #zenin maki

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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 3 years

Text

Work It Out

Summary: Spencer realizes that he might just have feelings for his neighbor after seeing her in her workout gear.

A/N: I boofed it. Trying to write a blurb and I ended up writing a whole fic. I will never learn.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Implied that reader is athletic but no mention of her body type)

Category: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Warnings/Includes: bad communication, cursing, smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, light spanking, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 2.7k

Masterlist

Requests Filled:

“blurb idea that’s been living in my head, rent-free: reader is spencer’s neighbor and a dancer, who he has a huge crush on. spencer goes over to her apartment to borrow something and interrupts her daily stretches and spencer gets all flustered because she’s wearing leggings and a sports bra, and she’s so flexible”

“okay so this next thought came to my mind while i was doing some exercise lol: imagine that u started a new routine and you feel super tired at the ten minutes of the video haha, then spencer came back to work and when he see u doing some squats he's so turn on and then he just get close to you from behind and whispers "c'mon bunny, u can't with this, the only thing that u can handle is my cock" and then he just fuck y/n so hard aaaaaaaaa btw i'm the anon who sent that visual the past week of Twitter about the flowery lingerie 😌🙏🏻 —🥀”

“okay so like reader working out in Spencer’s apartment and he’s just watching her and getting all worked up. reader noticed and starts teasing him until he can’t handle it - 🐍”

-- -- --

They’d struck up a friendship almost instantly, from that first day that she moved in. He tried to help her with her boxes but he almost felt like he was holding her back, he got winded just going up and down the stairs on his own, let alone while he carried an entire box he later found out had been full of books. She laughed at him when he placed it down on her kitchen table and read the permanent marker label on the side. He still remembers how light her laugh had made him feel, how perfect it was.

From that first day things were just easy, effortless. He liked that he didn’t have to think around her, about work, about anything, he always felt so comfortable around her. Until that day.

The day that he couldn’t find his dustpan and brush after breaking a glass, so he went next door to see if she had one he could borrow. When he knocked on the door and heard a small ‘it’s open’, he walked in as normal, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight.

The furniture in her living room was pushed to the walls as she stretched in the centre of the room. He was sure there must’ve been a name for the pose she was in, but all he could concentrate on in that moment was how her body looked in the spandex of her leggings and sports bra. The smooth way her body contorted into strange shapes, the way her back arched so perfectly, and the way he could make out every curve of her body in a way he’d never really noticed before.

Thankfully she didn’t seem to notice his staring as she concentrated on her movements before finishing up her pose.

“What’s up Spence?” she breathed once she relaxed, turning her eyes to him.

And for a moment he wanted to turn around and run away. He was almost positive that his face was a glowing shade of pink, he could feel the heat as it radiated off of his cheeks while she looked at him expectantly.

“Uh, I um- A glass!” he stuttered out, “I broke a glass” he finally managed but she still just looked up at him with a puzzled expression.

“Okay, we’re really low on news today I see” she laughed, and he sort of wished she hadn’t, because it’s his absolute favorite sound.

“Sorry, I wanted to- I uh- I came over to see if you had a sweeping brush?” the words almost get caught in his throat but he fights to get them out, and he’s more proud than he really should be.

“Oh, under the sink!” she tells him, and he makes quick work of finding it before mumbling his ‘thanks’ and rushing back to the safety of his own apartment.

It’s a day he could never forget, even if his memory was normal. And part of him wished he could forget, because he knows that that’s the day he started treating her differently. It wasn’t easy or simple anymore. It was awkward and strange and he had a huge, stupid crush on her.

-- --

It doesn’t take long for her to notice the little changes in his behavior, the way he avoids her in the halls, or always seems to be inexplicably busy whenever she tries to make plans. And on the odd occasion that they do speak he never seems to be able to hold eye contact. It continues like that for a while until she just can’t take it for another second.

She waits until she knows he’s home, staring out the peephole at the door opposite hers until she sees him open it up and walk inside. She gives him about 5 minutes before she marches over and slams her fist against the door, a lot more urgent than necessary.

When he opens the door he looks tired and deflated, and his tie is undone, hanging around his neck. She can see the fatigue leave his features a second later, only to be replaced by a look of pure shock.

“Y/N?” he asks, like he’s not sure she’s really even there.

“Yeah, can I come in?” she asks, but she’s already maneuvering past him and into his living room like she’d done so many times before he’d gotten strange.

“What are you doing here?” he manages to get out once his shock subsides.

“What’s going on with you Spence? We’re best friends until one day you decide you don’t like me? What’s that about, I just have to pretend like I live next door to a stranger now?”

He looks like a deer caught in headlights. She’s not even sure she can see him breathing as his face begins to flush.

“I’m sorry” he breathes out first, “I wasn’t trying to- okay I was avoiding you, but it’s not because I don’t like you”

“Sure seems like it” she sighs, and for a second he looks heartbroken.

“No!” he blurts out, “It’s not that, I swear” he shakes his head, reaching out to touch her before retracting his grip, thinking the better of it.

“Then what is it Spence?” she looks at him with a softness now, with a pleading behind her eyes, and he can’t hold back anymore.

“It’s because I do like you” he says it like he’s relieved, like it had been gnawing at him, “Because I really like you”

“Like me?” she asks, the realization finally dawning. “As in...”

“As in... romantically?” he can’t look at her when he says it, closing his eyes as if he’s bracing for impact. But the next thing he hears is his favorite sound once again. She laughs at him. It’s not cynical, or rude, it’s the kind that’s filled with joy, and maybe just a little exasperation.

“Well I wish you’d’ve told me that sooner” she says once she’s calmed down, and when he opens his eyes she’s smiling at him, taking a step closer.

“You do?”

“Mmhmm” she nods, “That way, I could’ve let you know all about this crush I’ve been harboring on you for a while now.”

He doesn’t have time to think before she’s got her lips on his, soft and delicate against him. For a minute he can’t really understand what’s happening as her hands reach up to cup his face softly, and they stay there after she pulls back. Her thumbs gently grazing his cheekbones as she admires his shocked expression.

“You’ve had a crush on me?” is the first thing he thinks to say, and she nods, smiling up at him.

“Since that first day when you helped me move in” she admits, and the timeline clicks in his head. She’s wanted this longer than he even had. Something about it puts his mind at ease, the though of being desirable to someone like her just makes him swell with pride in a way he’s not even sure he understands.

“Oh” is all he manages to get out though.

“I know, we gotta work on your self confidence because you, Spencer Reid, are a catch” she smiles at him before diving in for their second kiss.

-- --

It’s probably too crass to say out loud, but his favorite part about moving in together is undoubtedly, her daily exercise routine. Sometimes it’s in the morning, sometimes the afternoon, sometimes the evening. He’s actually starting to suspect that she times it for when she knows he’ll be around to see it.

He waited a little while to confess just know much he thought about her in those leggings. The lilac ones that were still in her rotation. Not that he didn’t find her sexy all of the time, he really did. But there was just something, maybe pavlovian, about seeing her in those lilac leggings. The way they hugged her body, he always found himself staring more than he was proud of.

Whatever routine she’s following this morning has her just a little out of breath. And he pretends to be reading the paper at his desk while she pants less than 10 feet away from him. The sound alone is distracting, but when he glances up and he can see her doing squats, all he can focus on is her ass in those fucking leggings.

“8, 9.... 10″ she breathes out, finishing off with a small groan.

“Too hard?” he chuckles, giving in and laying his paper down.

“No way, I can handle it” she turns around to grin at him before turning back around, starting into another set, counting them out slowly.

He seizes the opportunity and gets up out of his chair, making his way quietly over to her while she concentrates on her form. When he’s finally behind her she’s nearly out of breath again, pushing through the last rep when his hand snakes around her waist and pulls her back against him. He leans in to her ear as he whispers.

“C’mon Bunny, I guess you can handle your squats, but can you handle this” he almost moans it as he presses his already hard cock right up against her ass.

“Fuck” she breathes out in a little gasp, her hands moving up into his hair to pull him closer.

“Do you think you can handle it Bunny?” he groans again, grinding himself against her this time.

“Yes! Yes Spencer please, I can take it” she moans out as his hands begin to roam over her body, gently tracing along the exposed skin between her bra and her leggings, feeling the warmth of it.

“Then be a good Bunny and bend over for me, okay?” he growls against her ear and she moves fast, bending over the back of the sofa, and presenting herself to him. He takes a step back to admire the view for a moment before he’s got his hands on her body again. His fingers go straight to the waistband of the leggings, tugging the smooth fabric down, pulling it until it's gathered around her feet, quickly doing the same with her panties until there was nothing in his way.

“Fuck, you look so good like this” he groans, a soft hand caressing the smooth skin of her ass before rising up and coming back down with a loud slap, followed by a high pitched whine from her.

“Did you like that Bunny?” he asks, gripping a rough handful of her ass as she moans out a meek ‘yes’

So he repeats the action, pulling his hand up only to slam it back down again rough and excited against the now sensitive skin.

“Fuck” she purrs, her legs closing, thighs moving together in an attempt to get some friction. But he puts a stop to that right away, placing one of his feet between hers and kicking them apart so her legs were spread for him.

“If you wanted something Bunny, all you had to do was ask” he teases, moving his hand along the curve of her ass until it was hovering between her legs, where she was desperate and wanting. He purposefully lingers just a moment too long before pushing two fingers inside of her. He’s rewarded with a low moan that pours out of her.

“So wet from just a little spanking, you’re so good for me” he groans, “Do you think you can handle my cock yet sweetheart?”

She can’t help the way she clenches and tightens around his fingers at the very thought. It’s not like they didn’t fill her up, they were so much longer and more agile than her own fingers, but nothing could really compare to his cock.

“Fuck, please” she whimpers, wiggling her hips just a little as though that might help convince him that she deserved it.

“Such a good girl, I think you’ve earned it” as he speaks he pulls his fingers gently out of her, and she forces herself not to while at the loss of contact. He pulls his cock out of his boxers, pumping it himself a few times before he lines up behind her. Though they both love this position, she can’t help but miss watching him. The way his eyes close and and he bites his perfect plump bottom lip. But then he’s easing in and the feeling of him is enough to eclipse every other thought in her head.

“Oh god! Spencer!” she stutters out a moan, her hands flying forward to grab at the cushions on the sofa, digging her fingers into the soft down.

“You feel so good Bunny, always so wet for me” he groans as he pushes the whole way in, burying himself right up to the hilt.

His hands make their home on either side of her hips, his grip is tight as he pulls her back against him at the same time that he pushes his hips forward, slamming in on each thrust with everything he’s got.

Hips hit against her ass each time, rocking right up against the quickly forming handprint there whenever their skin collides. The slight burn only intensifying the already overwhelming pleasure.

“So- ah- I’m so close” she manages to moan out in between all the gasps and pants, and without speaking Spencer reaches down to grab the straps at the back of her sports bra, using the leverage to pull her back up. Meeting her halfway he presses his chest right up against her back, one hand snaking around to loosely grip her throat. The other making its way down between her legs.

“Fuck- Spencer- I-” she gasps at his fingers start to run in small circles around her swollen clit, his hips continuing their motions at the same time. All of it building dangerously fast.

“What’s the matter? Too much for you Bunny?” he teases with a groan, right against her ear.

“No!” she rushes out, one of her hands bracing herself against the back of the sofa, the other draping itself loosely over his hand between her legs, encouraging but not interfering with its movements.

“That’s a good girl. Are you gonna cum all over my cock Bunny?”

She doesn’t have time to answer his question before she’s putty in his hands. Melting into his grip as he continues to move inside of her and against her. The only thing keeping her from falling to the ground is her loose grip on the edge of the sofa and Spencers hand around her neck as she moans out his name.

It’s only a few seconds later that his hips begin to stutter and both of his hands are on her hips again, pulling them tight against his own as he grows closer and closer. And then he’s cumming with a rough groan and a bunch of shallow breaths, filling her up entirely as she begins to slump against the sofa once again.

“Spence, fuck” she says with a deep breath, “That was unbelievable”

They’re both covered in a layer of sweat now, and Spencer can feel the hair that’s probably stuck to his forehead. In his exhausted state all he really wants to do is lay down against her back, gathering their breathing again. But he knows that’s just his cloudy mind talking. So he manages to loosen his grip on her hips and pull out slowly before rushing to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth.

He takes it and gently cleans the mess that he made between her legs before it gets the chance to drip down. Once she’s clean he helps her stand upright once again.

Although he’d come a long way with his self confidence there were still times like this where he let himself feel awkward, or unsure. Especially right after he’d just been so bold. But in times like this she knows exactly what to do. Rising up, she places her hands on either side of his face and kisses him, soft and gentle, just for a moment, before pulling back again to look at him.

“Shower?”

-- -- --

Thank you so much for reading x

-- -- --

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thebeautyoffanfics · 3 years

Note

May I have a Teru, Hanako and Kou headcanons with an s/o who accidentally bit their tongue too hard making it bleed. They inhaled so they choke anc cough the blood out and the boys get absolutely terrified thinking their s/o is dying. Thank you.

teru minamoto x gn!reader, hanako x gn!reader, kou minamoto x gn!reader

a/n: sure thing! ahh i keep giggling, i love this concept- thank you so much for requesting!! <3

warnings: blood mention?

word count: collectively, 997

Teru Minamoto <3

The day was genuinely starting off to be a nice one. School was breezing past, and it was now lunchtime. Teru was happy to get the brief break, and even happier to be spending it with you- there was some light conversation being carried on between the two of you, but it was mainly a nice silence, as the two of you enjoyed your food.

“So, did anything exciting happen, (Y/N)?” Teru asked you, though he knew the answer was most likely a no. You held up a finger, signaling him to wait a moment as you swallowed your food. As you did so, your teeth dug into your tongue. The pain made you inhale sharply, forgetting that you were mid-bite, and thus beginning to cough.

“(Y/N)? Did you choke?” Teru asked, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shook your head, grabbing a napkin to cough into. Once the fit died down a bit, you pulled the napkin from your mouth and cleared your throat. You opened your mouth to apologize, but Teru quickly interrupted you.

“(Y/N)? What the- did you just cough up blood-?” He questioned, grabbing your hands and trying to lift you. His voice was relatively calm, but you could see his face pale a bit. “Ah, no-” “You should go to the nurse. That’s obviously not something that should happen-”

“Teru, I’m alright,” “That’s-” “I bit my tongue, Teru.”

He was definitely unsure for a second, but he knew you wouldn’t lie to him. After you stuck your tongue out a bit to show the slight gash, he sighed, running a hand through his hair semi-dramatically. “I’m so glad- I thought that you were having some sort of deadly fit.”

Teru definitely (jokingly) scolds you a bit after that, telling you that you need to be more careful- after all, should the food have been in your mouth you may have genuinely choked, tsk tsk. He makes sure you know that the teasing is lighthearted, but expect him to make lighthearted banter any time you cough (or bite your tongue).

Hanako <3

Hanako was fairly proud of himself. The mokke had brought the toilet ghost a piece of candy, and he was quick to recognize that it was your favorite! He kept it safe in his pocket throughout the day, waiting happily for the school day to be over. After all, he wanted to give it to you in-person, not just drop it off in your locker.

Soon enough, once the school day was over, he’d cheerfully tell you that he had a gift for you. While you were probably unsure at first, as it was hard to be sure if his cheeky grin was genuine or mischievous, once he placed the candy in your hands there was no more doubt. Quite content with the treat, you’d unwrap it and pop it into your mouth.

You began to clean the bathroom before Nene and Kou arrived, chewing happily on the candy. As you did so, you felt your teeth go not only through the candy- but straight into your tongue as well. You gasped at feeling the sharp pain, inhaling too suddenly and beginning to choke. Luckily, the candy stayed to the side of your mouth, so you at least weren’t choking on that.

You coughed violently, holding your elbow to your mouth. “(Y/N)? Are you dying?” Hanako asked jokingly, as you coughed. However, once you pulled your elbow from your mouth, he grew uneasy. “(Y/N)?! Are you alright?”

Though his concern confused you a bit, you focused on the blood on your elbow. “Ew…” You sighed, walking over to the sink to wash off your arm. “‘Ew’?? That’s- it’s gross, but what if you’ve got blood in your lungs?!”

“Huh? No, I bit my tongue… wait- were you worried?”

“...well- this is a one-man show sorta thing, (Y/N). I don’t need another bathroom ghost, it would be inconvenient. What are people supposed to say? Hanako-san and (Y/N)-san, are you there? It’s wordy, you know?” “Alright, I understand- I’m not dying, so don’t worry about the ‘inconvenience’.”

Kou Minamoto <3

Oh, this poor boy… poor little Kou.

Kou had probably made you cookies or something- he was really embarrassed about it, but! He cares about you, and they’re already made, so… he’ll try to act confident, or as confident as he can while blushing, avoiding eye contact, and rubbing his neck, and give them to you. Once you show that you appreciate the gesture, he’ll get a bit less shy, and take a seat next to you.

You munched happily on a cookie, closing your eyes happily as Kou rambled on about nonsense. Caught up in how nice the cookies tasted, the happy moment was put on hold the moment your teeth crushed your tongue. The pain and food in your mouth made you choke a bit, and you began to cough into your elbow.

Immediately, Kou was concerned, quickly handing you several napkins and making sure that you weren’t choking to the death. However, the moment he saw a bit of blood on the corner of your mouth and napkin, his concern went up by a whole lot. You thought he was panicked before- haha, just wait to be bombarded with this precious boy’s concern.

“(Y/N), OH MY GOSH- YOU’RE DYING?!” “I-” “YOU’RE COUGHING UP BLOOD- WE NEED TO GET YOU TO THE- TO A HOSPITAL-” “Kou, I’m-” “(Y/N), NOT TO SCARE YOU BUT, YOU’RE LUNGS ARE FILLING WITH BLOOD AS WE SPEAK-”

“KOU, I BIT MY TONGUE, PLEASE, DUDE, DARLING, MY PRECIOUS BOYFRIEND, CALM DOWN.”

Instantly flustered, but he’s still unsure for a moment. He’ll make sure that you’re positive, cringing a bit when you showed the fresh teeth marks in your tongue. Once he knows that you aren’t dying, he’s definitely going to be slightly humiliated. Please, reassure him that you don’t think of him any less, and/or that you think it was nice that he cares that much, and he’ll eventually return to his less-flustered self.

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kiribakuhappiness · 3 years

Note

Prompt- someone in class 1A bodyswaps with kirishima. For some reason they don't/can't tell their class. Whoever is in kiri body (your choice) has to deal with soft baku who either is about to confess or is already secretly dating kirishima

(Kiribaku Drabble Prompt) OH MY GOD. I AM DEAD. JUST TAKE IT. with love.

The alarm went off (supposedly) at exactly six o’clock in the morning just like it did every other morning from what felt like the beginning of time. But the tune that drifted over into his ears sounded a bit strange today, and the sheets felt a bit scratchier and heavier than he remembered them being, and - probably most importantly to note - Izuku hadn’t even needed to twitch a single muscle that morning before the blaring noise was being cut off again on its own and the room was plunged back into stifling silence.

Which all lead to the objectively horrifying conclusion that there was someone else in this bed with him.

Izuku tried not to notice how frantically his heart was pattering away inside his chest, and he kept his eyes closed to maybe continue to give off the absolutely false pretense of still being asleep, but it was no use.

He was effectively freaking out.

Why did this kind of stuff keep happening to him? First it was Aoyama leaving him cheese outside on his balcony and now this? Should he be telling somebody about these incidents? It was starting to feel like maybe it was time for him to tell somebody. All Might, maybe? Principal Nedzu? His mom?

But… that alarm… it hadn’t been set to the sound he was used to.

And these bed sheets... they were so familiar somehow...

Izuku swallowed down his rattled nerves as quietly as possible before he unfurled one of his shaking fists to touch more prominently at the heavy comforter currently all tangled up around his limbs that felt too warm, so very careful to avoid shifting too obviously or accidentally bumping into whoever the hell was next to him.

No... Izuku knew these sheets. The way that the material caught on the pads of his fingers and pulled at long forgotten memories too blurry in his adrenaline-filled state to properly see them, and that smell! He took in a deep, slow breath through his nose, and he recognized all of them. His brain prodded him with useless bombardments of dismembered images. A pillow. A blanket. A couch. A kitchen. A color. A voice.

Oh. No.

This was Kacchan’s room.

Why the hell was Izuku in Kacchan’s room?!

Why the hell was he in Kacchan’s bed?!?!

These were the exact same sheets, the same rough texture, the same familiar smell of a subtle bleach and a smoldering stack of firewood that had been ingrained into his memories since before he was old enough to even be fully self-aware of such significant sights and sounds and sensory triggers.

But this hand...

Izuku wiggled his fingers as carefully as he dared to, but it all felt wrong. The wrist was too wide, the tendons in his forearm were too strong and sturdy, like they’d never been strained or bruised before in their entire lives, fresh and limber and toned.

No. None of this was right.

“Oi, we fuckin’ gettin’ up or what?” Kacchan’s hoarse, early-morning voice cracked somewhere beside him before an equally rough palm smacked hard into his bare shoulder and startled Izuku’s eyes wide open with a chaotic lurch in the opposite direction as he rushed to sit up and put as much distance between them as possible.

Oh wow. Yeah. This was Kacchan’s room alright.

That poster used to be in his bedroom back at his parent’s place, and that snowboard leaning against the dresser in the corner had his signature orange stripe down a solid black background, and this was definitely the same navy-blue comforter that Izuku had always hated the feeling of ever since he was old enough to hate the way that things felt, and - holy cow - there was Kacchan.

Sleep torn and shirtless with his wayward spikes all pressed down flat on one side while he lifted a broad hand up to rub his battle-scarred knuckles into one of his blurry eyes. His lips tucked down into a petulant scowl and his eyebrows furrowed in the middle of his forehead the longer that Izuku continued to sit and stare at him with an open mouth as though he had just watched him grow another head.

Kacchan hasn’t tried to explode him yet.

Why hasn’t Kacchan tried to explode him yet?

“The fuck are you lookin’ at me like that for?” Kacchan griped in a moody manner as he reached out for a second time and pushed at his shoulder again, lighter, and with fingers that tried to linger for far too long. Izuku jumped at the unexpected contact and tried to back completely out of his reach, but the bed was much too small, and suddenly he was tumbling off onto the floor with a resounding groan of pain that sounded nothing like his own.

“Oi! Kirishima! The fuck is the matter with you?” Kacchan snapped in clear agitation as he glared over the edge of the bed down at Izuku’s rumpled figure lying in a heap on the floor.

Did he just say Kirishima?

Okay. Something really crazy must have happened last night. Something quirk related. Definitely something quirk related.

Izuku righted himself on the ground before he held up his hands in front of his face and gazed at the strong, muscular vein protruding on his right forearm that was most definitely not his own, and yeah, okay, he was in Kirishima’s body right now. That’s what this was – they had switched bodies. Which meant that Kirishima was probably in Izuku’s room, waking up as him and - aw man - that meant that Kirishima was going to see all of the new posters and action figures that he’d been adding to his collection since the first time when everyone had forced their way into his room and -

HOLY CRAP - Kirishima was sleeping in Kacchan’s room?! Since when??

“Did you wake up feelin’ even more dumb today or what?! If you don’t answer me right fucking now -”

It was the familiar sound of Kacchan’s explosions popping in the center of his palms that finally jarred Izuku back to the present; back to the reality of this very hazardous situation that he seemed to have found himself in. There was no way that he could tell Kacchan who he really was right now. He would kill him. He would murder him in cold blood. He would blast him to death until there was nothing left of him and then he would blast away all of the rest of his pieces just for fun.

Nope. Kacchan could not find out about this. It was just out of the question.

“Sorry!” And okay, his voice did sound a lot like Kirishima’s, that was good. Lower and scratchier with an adolescent edge in the process of dropping a few more octaves before reaching full maturity someday. He could work with that. “I was just having a dream. You startled me… d-dude!”

Kacchan frowned down at him with a suspicious, squinted gaze and Izuku tried to look as innocent as possible as he slowly lumbered back up onto his feet that felt foreign and unsteady under his new weight.

Wow. Izuku was tall. It might have only been a few more centimeters, but the height difference was already astounding. It would have been kind of nice if he had swapped places with someone who happened to be taller than Kacchan, though… oh well.

Speaking of Kacchan, he tracked Izuku’s movements with a laser-light precision while Izuku tried to remember how it was that people normally stood (because he seemed to have forgotten how to) before Kacchan suddenly tch’ed and slumped back down into his pillow with a careless arm thrown up and under his head. He smacked the empty space where Izuku had just been laying with his other free hand and glared expectantly.

“C’m back,” he demanded in a decidedly less than threatening manner.

Wow. This was really weird. Kirishima slept in Kacchan’s bed and Kacchan was okay with it? How often did this happen? How did they even get to this point where it had become so natural for them to share a bed like this? To wake up together like this? When did –

Kacchan’s lip twitched impatiently and he raised his hand up in a slow, dramatic arch as though to catch his eye and make sure that Izuku couldn’t miss how obviously the gesture was being directed at him.

“Eijirou,” Kacchan grunted out, with an incredibly uncomfortable amount of eye contact, and then he smacked the empty space beside him again.

Oh… my god. It was a summons. Izuku could not do that. He could not handle just… getting back into bed with him?! Not when he’d finally managed to escape from it. There had to be an excuse. He had to find an excuse.

“I have to pee –”

“I could not care less,” Kacchan snarked back before his strong fingers gripped bunches of the comforter into a tight hold as though he were physically restraining himself from doing something that Izuku didn’t want to know what it could possibly be.

“I-I’ll just be a minute,” Izuku tried to stumble out as nonchalantly as possible as he took a hurried step in the direction of the bathroom.

A loud creak echoing from the other side of the room halted him dead in his tracks, and he whipped around to spot Kacchan as he rolled up onto his knees in one swift movement and leaned forward, reaching out and grasping the end of the bed with two strong hands and looking ready to leap off the mattress and block Izuku from continuing.

“You really gonna make me chase after you?” Kacchan snorted an amused sort of sound under his breath as his biceps flexed dangerously and he readied himself to pounce.

Oh no. Not chase after. Never ever chase after.

“N-no!” Izuku managed to stammer out, but it was far too late. Kacchan had already made the decision to end him.

Izuku scrambled back as quickly as possible in an attempt to keep some distance between them, but it closed before he even had the chance to register that it was gone and then Kacchan was just there, far too close far too quickly, leaning into his space and wow, Izuku was so uncomfortable right now that he couldn’t even pretend to keep making eye contact anymore as he fidgeted restlessly in his new cornered position.

“You’re bein’ weirder than usual,” Kacchan stated firmly, but he had finally stopped trying to come closer which was all-in-all a very good thing.

“Sorry,” Izuku squeaked out again, clenching and unclenching Kirishima’s hands over and over as he desperately tried to pull himself together. He couldn’t help feeling so incredibly blind-sided by all of this. He had so many questions and no way to ask them – no way to understand, to know.

How long would it take for Kirishima to wake up and try to come and find him? Surely he would understand the significance of how much Izuku was finding out about right now that clearly nobody was ever meant to find out about.

Holy crap, and if Kacchan knew that it was Izuku of all people who had been the first one to find out about it?! To have seen it all unfold up close and personal like this? Oh man, it was all so very bad.

“Stop apologizin’ to me, that’s what’s so fucking weird,” Kacchan grumbled out in the same bitter tone, and Izuku tried not to stiffen when he raised a hand and pressed it into the bookshelf next to his head, leaning his weight onto it and squinting down at him like they might share an extraordinary telepathic moment.

Izuku opened his mouth, ready to apologize again completely on instinct, but any noise that was about to come out got strangled and lodged in his throat when Kacchan’s other hand came up and his thumb promptly hooked under his jaw and clamped his mouth shut before a dangerous palm slid into place and covered his mouth completely. Izuku’s heart started to race in this unfamiliar chest and his eyes widened as he waited with vein-twisting anxiety for Kacchan to blow his entire face away with a single blast.

But… he never did.

“Seriously fucking stop, Kirishima. ’S pissin’ me off,” Kacchan demanded again; stern and final. “There ain’t nothin’ to apologize for, understand?”

Izuku tried to calm his labored breathing as he watched Kacchan watch him back for a long moment, and the fingers around his jaw tightened in an unfamiliar manner before they were suddenly gone again. Kacchan pushed himself away from the bookshelf and started towards the bathroom with a loud, gruff yawn.

“Better fuckin’ hurry up, cause I ain’t savin’ you any hot water for a second shower,” Kacchan warned without looking back as he turned on the light and ducked inside the other room.

Izuku’s entire body jolted back to life at the sound of the water in the shower turning on, and when it finally clicked in his head what that thinly veiled threat entailed, he tore off in the direction of the hallway at top speeds, practically sprinting out of the room and absolutely refusing to look back even when he could hear Kacchan shouting incredulously after him.

He so did not have the mental capacity to even try and unpack any of what he had just gone through. His one and only objective was to find Kirishima and switch their bodies back as soon as possible so that he could go on with the rest of his life and pretend like none of that had ever even happened in the first place.

Yeah… that sounded nice.

For once – Izuku just really, really didn’t want to know any more details.

--- full fic out now ---

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34034215

#kiribaku #kiribaku fic #kiribaku drabble #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #midoriya izuku #drabble prompts #bakushima #bakushima fic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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glowingbadger · 3 years

Note

Hi it’s me, crawling through the window. Would it be possible to get a crumb of arranged marriage w/ Hubert? His line w/ Dorothea about being willing to get married for politics sake has fueled my brain rot for him.

Good God I need to secure my windows-

I mean HELLO FRIEND ANON YES IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE

Lol actually though, I have been thinking about this for Hubie since we all started chatting about that arranged marriage stuff! I think it's a perfect concept for him~

This like... got weird while I was writing it though?? Idk man hahaha it ended up on the less-spicy side of what I usually write, and with some very weird dialogue in places... Idk, I hope y'all like it. Maybe if there's interest, I'll follow this up eventually with a more smut-focused piece?

I've been traveling and working so much lately that I just don't even know what writing is anymore or how it works hahaha

TW: A brief mention of non-con

Hubert (FE3H) x Reader ("wife," neutral pronouns)

Arranged Marriage - semi spicy i guess?

"Frankly, he's a pain," Linhardt must be able to see your surprise and confusion written across your face. He goes on, "He's reliable and capable, of course, but also the most persistent nag you'll ever meet. Actually, no-" he glances upward as though to cross reference his own thoughts, "No, her Majesty is worse. But Hubert is a close second to be sure. Always on and on about sleep schedules and proper nutrition and etiquette..." He sighs and closes the massive tome on his lap, as though to close the conversation with it, "frankly, he's an insufferable mother hen. Does that help?"

"Well, it's... Not what I expected," you admit with a shrug, "but thank you all the same."

It's been several weeks since the papers binding you in marriage to Hubert Von Vestra had been signed- and this alone had sufficed. No ceremony, no grand ball, just paperwork and a handshake with your father. A handshake that ensured that, even under the Empire's unification, he would maintain nominal control over his considerable portion of land, and in return, would swear absolute loyalty to her Majesty. It was a beneficial arrangement for all parties, and you were not ignorant to the part you played. You were hardly even a bargaining chip- moreso, a hostage.

Your new husband had made no secret of what manner of harm may befall you if your family were to renege on their deal. Fortunately, you know your father to be a reliable coward, so you have no reason to believe he would be bold enough to step out of line.

Hubert Von Vestra is a terrifying man. A zealously loyal man of storied cruelty and a frigid disposition. His frame looms over you whenever he's near, and though he's hardly placed a finger on you since you'd been given over to him, his mere presence is... arresting. There's a sort of charisma to him that's equal parts frightening and fascinating. Perhaps it's madness brought on by your circumstances, but you can't help wanting to glimpse just the slightest bit into that brilliant, ever churning mind.

Unsurprisingly, he has been resistant to your attempts to understand him. He hardly indulges you in small talk, and if you were the paranoid sort, you'd think he intentionally makes himself busy when you're around. Eventually, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, you'd settled on a routine of bringing coffee to his study adjoined to your bedroom in the evenings. He'd been visibly surprised the first time. It wasn't until the fourth night that he'd given a curt "thank you." About two weeks in, he'd actually sat back in his chair and laid down his quill pen to receive the cup from your hands. After a month, he'd leveled his narrow gaze at you and said,

"I cannot begin to fathom what satisfaction you glean from playing 'maid' to me."

"Well, I, uhm," you hadn't expected him to address you so directly, but you managed to say, "You... work so hard, I wanted to do something for you, I suppose."

His expression is inscrutable as he replies,

"You are aware that my work was much the same before you arrived."

"I am," you say softly, "But- all the same..." you trail off, and Hubert seems content to let the matter rest. And so you leave him be amidst his reports and correspondence, coffee at his side on the desk. Yet for as unproductive as your exchange might have seemed, it does leave you with an idea. The thought to learn about the man from those who knew him long before your arrival at the capitol.

Your investigation into the true character of your husband does not stop with Linhardt. In fact, his testimony only leaves you with further questions. But perhaps the others would say otherwise; perhaps the United Empire's most up and coming crest scholar simply inspires maternal behavior. This has to be the case- you simply can't imagine that the notoriously ruthless heir of the even more notorious Vestra lineage would be so... Doting.

And yet the more you learn of him, the more contradictory he seems.

Caspar's take is much like Linhardt's- a picture of a man far closer to a school marm than any assassin or master of torture. Ferdinand seems both smitten and incensed by him, oscillating wildly between the two. Then eventually, to your shock, Bernadetta takes the initiative to speak to you about Hubert of her own accord.

"I'm, uh, really so-sorry to bother you!" she approaches with arms drawn close to her chest and eyes resolutely avoiding yours, "I- I just heard that you were... asking about Hubert, so, I, uh..."

It takes some time to prompt her further. You assure her again and again- no, this isn't intrusive at all- yes, you'd very much like to hear her perspective- no, you're not mad at her. In truth, you're endlessly intrigued about what a gentle soul like Bernadetta would have to say about a man feared across the continent. Finally, she manages,

"He's... actually really kind!" she blurts out, as though the words would abandon her if she gave them the window of opportunity. Your eyebrows raise slightly.

"You think so..?"

"Yes, completely-!" she stammers, "I know he's super, super scary, and powerful and spooky and cold and, uh, all of that. But still," her voice falters as she continues, "He only scolds people when they do something dangerous. And he only hurts people to protect others. I... I know he's done some te-terrible things. But... he's always been nice to Bernie," finally, she meets your eyes with an imploring look in hers, "So, uh, I'm really grateful to him. And I think it would be really nice for someone to reach out to him. If... if that's not too weird or anything. For you."

You smile warmly and nod,

"Thank you, Bernadetta. I know it can't be easy for you to come to me with all of this, but... I'd like to try, if I can."

The opportunity doesn't come in the way you expect.

At first, it seems the night will proceed like many others before. You bring a cup of coffee to your husband's desk, setting it down quietly so as to not disturb him. He's silent, but this is common enough, so you head back to the bedroom to undress for the evening. All nights prior, he would lay beside you long after you'd settled in, then rise to resume work in the morning before you woke up- all the while never allowing your bodies to interact in any way.

Tonight, just as you're about to close the door to Hubert's study behind you, long fingers catch around your wrist, visibly startling you.

It's the most physical contact you've had to-date, but he only says,

"One moment."

You whip around to face him, a touch of anxiety evident in your eyes. It's clear in his own that he notices, but if anything, he only seems amused. He steps forward, his taller frame menacing you as he speaks,

"I understand that you have been busying yourself with some manner of investigation as of late."

It takes a moment for his meaning to reach you. When it does, your face burns and you can't bring yourself to meet his scrutinizing gaze,

"Oh, uhm..."

"I assure you, my dearest wife," he says with barely concealed venom, "anything that I do not wish for you to know will be kept from you. Aside from which, your efforts thus far have proven amateurish at best."

Something seems off about his tone. You could understand if he felt uncomfortable or hesitant about your efforts to learn about him, but this seems far more grave, more... business-like. He steps towards you once more, and you step back in turn. Yet before long, you feel your legs bump the edge of the bed. A gloved hand trails a fingertip down your jawline to your chin, then urges you to look up at him.

"Whatever you are planning, my dear, I promise it will be fruitless. You had best rethink how you spend your days before your actions bring you to harm."

"No, I-" your brow creases deeply, your face burns, your body burns hotter and you don't want to consider why, "I've just been trying to learn about you as a person, nothing else. We're- we're married, after all, so..."

He gives an abrupt, dry laugh.

"Ah, so I am to believe that you've been interrogating my allies out of some misguided affection, is that it?"

"Hubert, just listen to me!" for a moment, you feel bolstered, defiant, and you straighten your posture, "You won't tell me the first thing about you- the only way to learn so much as your favorite color is to ask someone who's known you for a decade!"

Briefly, he does seem to consider your words. But his eventual reply is as aloof as any prior,

"If you're no spy or politician, then you're worse- a fool." he says, and before you can respond, he's seized both of your wrists and pushed you back onto the bed. For a moment, the room spins and your voice leaves you. A shrewd eye watches you with cruel condescension as he pins you against the sheets.

"I should think that you'd be well aware what I'm capable of," he nearly whispers, "I personally ensured that the rumors spread through your father's territory and further still. Do you think that anyone would even dare lift a finger to help you if I chose to seek retribution for this recent behavior?" He draws nearer, his grip tighter at your wrists, "Perhaps as punishment, I'll simply take my pleasure from you by force."

Your lips tighten, you take a breath. Then, meeting his gaze directly, you reply,

"You won't."

His visible eye narrows.

"And what evidence do you have to prompt such unfounded confidence? Perhaps you have crafted a flattering falsehood of me in your mind," a mocking smirk curls his lips, "Am I a misunderstood sentimental sort to you, then? A sad, lonely man for you to save?"

You scowl, though you suspect it looks more like a pout to him.

"I don't know what I think of you yet- not completely. But I don't pity you like that, and I don't think you're sad or lonely. I know you're not."

For the first time, it seems that you've caught him off guard. That frigid mask falters for just a moment, and you go on before he can replace it,

"You're surrounded by people who care about you. I've seen it for myself. Whatever you've had to do in the service of your ideals- it hasn't kept the people around you from wanting to know and understand you, even if it's despite you."

Hubert is silent for a moment. His gaze bores into you like he thinks he'll discover some hidden layer if he can just keep digging. Then, he sighs,

"How did I ever become bound to such a troublesome spouse..."

When you wrest your arms from his grasp, his hands fall away with little resistance, and you think that perhaps he had never truly intended to keep you in place by force to begin with. He moves to leave the bed, but your fists find the front of his clothing and tug him back down to you.

You press your lips to his without hesitation, and you can feel him inhale sharply, his entire body rigid above you. His lips are surprisingly soft, his scent like coffee and old parchment, and though your heart threatens to burst from your chest, you hold firmly to him by his clothes. Near imperceptibly, he leans down against you, and your fear, along with any remaining doubts, begin to dissolve. Knowing he won't pull away, you let your hands relax against him, running up his chest where you can feel his own pulse pounding. It's so human, so entirely reasonable and normal. Now, at last, Hubert Von Vestra is merely a man of flesh and bone.

Your tongue meets his naturally, your lips parting in time with his as your kiss deepens to a fevered pace. One hand reaches that sharp, handsome jawline, reveling in the erotic sensation of his mouth moving against yours. And yet, all the while, his hands remain staunchly on the bed beside you. He doesn't touch you- doesn't even let his body meet yours.

It's impossible to tell whether passion or madness drives you to bring your teeth to his lower lip, a single insistent bite communicating desire mounting faster than you can contain. And for a moment, you sense something new; a sound catches in Hubert's throat, a reaction he fights to stifle. Then, he pulls away. His pale skin is tinted a rare shade of pink, and his hair is ruffled out of place enough to reveal both narrowed eyes. His cloak has spilled around his frame to surround you both, and somewhere in your frazzled mind, you imagine that you're caught in some beautiful, velvet-lined trap.

"I- must... return to my work." Hubert says stiffly. He pushes up from you and turns away, leaving you still flustered on the bed behind him. You sit upright, holding your arms tight around your body as you watch him straighten his hair and clothes.

"You, uhm..." your face reddens still as you search for the right words, "you could... join me in bed, if you liked."

Hubert turns to the door of his study, speaking without daring to even glance your way,

"Anything that you offer to me now will be born from the impulse to survive. I have been bargained with before." His shoulders slack just slightly, his voice low and sober, "The proudest nobleman will even sell off his own child to a monster if he feels it will spare him its teeth."

You open your mouth to protest, then shut it without a word. You feel that you know your mind and heart, even in this moment, but you lack the words to convince a man like this. In a feeble attempt, you murmur,

"You don't frighten me, Hubert. Not anymore."

He half turns toward you, though his hand remains on the handle of his study door.

"You yourself said that you do not know what you think of me," he says, "As such, I will not lay a hand on you until the day that you do."

You stare down at your hands in your lap, barely registering the sound of the door clicking shut as he leaves you in the bedroom. No matter how you try to sort out your tangled thoughts, the memory of his lips on yours won't leave them. If anything, it eclipses any sense of reason, standing resolutely in the way of your path to clarity. Letting out a groaning sigh, you fall onto your back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it could offer you any advice.

What do I think about my own husband? You wonder, the thought nearly enough to make you laugh. Well for one, he's a pain.

#hubert von vestra #hubert x reader #fire emblem #feh #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem fic #x reader

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bratkook · 3 years

Text

like you used to. jjk

“So kill me like you used to...”

part two.

pairing. ex boyfriend!jungkook x reader genre. angst, mentions of smut, toxic exes warnings. very toxic depictions of relationships, hints at infidelity, drunken mistakes, they’re both very toxic for each other and just can’t stay away, brief mentions of smut word count. 2.9k note. this is just a lump of angst that my mind conjured at 1am last night, i just love angst and messy relationships that are destined to fail 😌(its not edited so if u see a typo no u dont)

It always started with a phone call.

Whether it was from you or him always changed. Sometimes he’d get the call at two in the morning, vision blurry as he brought the phone to his face and saw your name illuminated on the screen, that old goofy selfie you had together still set as your contact photo. He’d hesitate for a moment just to keep you on your toes before pressing accept, already getting up and putting pants on because he knew just what you were calling for.

Tonight was your turn to be on the receiving end, laying in bed comfortably as you scrolled through random posts to try to help you sleep, the flash of his face fills your phone, it’s a random close up photo of his eyes staring right into the camera, crinkled up in a smile. Even though his name is changed in your contacts, no longer having the cute bunny emoji tacked to the end, you know you’ll still pick up in a heartbeat. And you do.

The second you press accept you’re met with the familiar sound of his voice, slurred and thick as he speaks so jumbled up you would barely be able to understand him if you didn’t already know what he was saying. It was the same things he always said whenever he got like this, proclamations of love that only cut up your freshly scabbed over wounds, salt rubbing into them when he cries about how he misses you, promises to change.

They get cut off when the phone is yanked away from his grasp, the second familiar voice belonging to his buddy Yugyeom now speaking into the receiver. “You gotta pick him up Y/N.”

The annoyance is evident in his voice, the babbling of Jungkook still heard in the background along with the dull beat of whatever place they were outside of.

“He’s not my responsibility Yugyeom.”

He simply sighs into the phone, staring at his mess of a friend before rubbing his jaw, sore and aching from where he had just been socked after attempting to force him into an uber. “Yeah well he won’t let anyone else take him home, he’s drunk as fuck. I’ll send you the location.”

Not waiting for a response he hangs up and sends you a pin of where they’re at, thrusting the phone back into his friend’s hands before getting into that uber and leaving Jungkook alone while he whines against the dirty bar wall, crouching down onto the filthy sidewalk as the car drove off.

Yugyeom knew you would come to his rescue like you always did, never once saying no and letting Jungkook fend for himself because on the rare occasions where you’d call him drunk and crying he’d do the same.

Getting into the car still dressed in your pajamas, shoes thrown on without being laced up, hair still messy, it felt like routine now from how often it happened. Jungkook called you sober, text you while in a sane state of mind, but without fail at least once a month he’d get absolutely shit faced and call you, leaving you what he thought were heartfelt voicemails if by some chance you didn’t answer.

It was the same bar every time, a bar you used to frequent with him, knowing the location and all the small side streets to get you there without needing directions. Doing this felt like such a normal part of your life it almost made you forget that you and Jungkook weren’t together anymore. It’s been a year since you split and you still find yourself thinking if things could be different.

Would it have been best if you never confessed to each other, never admitted to the small inkling of a crush before it was able to fully blossom? It was hard not to wonder how different life would be now if you had walked away the first time things went south, if he had walked away after the first argument.

Whenever he called you, pulled you in with those drunken promises it was easy to convince yourself that your relationship was perfect, that it was worth all of the struggles. Your brain morphed each fight, each time you cried alone, twisted it around and molded it to make it easier to consume, easier to believe you were meant to be.

You thought you were soulmates, and maybe you were, two people destined to be together, meeting at the wrong time, under the wrong circumstances. What was meant to be perfect puzzle pieces connected had slowly turned into jagged edges that no longer clicked regardless of how hard you tried to jam them together, foolishly thinking you could spill your love into the gaps to mend the spaces, making the pieces whole once more.

Love was never enough.

Love made you stupid, made you blind and gullible, smiling through lies to avoid arguments, going to bed angry until he was hovering over you, coaxing you into forgiveness with soft kisses and gentle touches. It always went this way, regardless of who’s fault it was without fail he’d end up slot between your legs, the only time the puzzle pieces connected perfectly, allowing him to fuck you as if he’d never see you again. Murmurs of love and adoration were passed between panting breaths, sloppy kisses, shared moans to mask the empty promises you made every time.

Staying away from each other was a hard habit to kick, the two of you stuck on an endless game of seesaw, neither of you having the guts to get off and move on. All it took was a simple drunk phone call for you to go his way, the slur of his voice as he cries into the receiver about how much he loved you, missed you, needed you next to him, wanted to try again. It reeled you in so easily, winding you up until you were hauling your sloppy ex boyfriend off the dirty floor and into your small car.

He remembers none of this, he never did, not fully anyways. Small tidbits of words he said flash in his mind as he comes to, drool on his cheek and neck sore from the unfortunate position he had slept in, groggy and unaware of his surroundings.

He knew your apartment too well, recognized the green wall he had helped you paint, now holding endless pictures of you and your friends. None of Jungkook anymore.

All of those photos were gone now, not burned or shredded in some ritual to get over him, simply tucked into a box and shoved so far into your closet you hoped you would forget it. You never did of course, the way the box laid dust free made it clear how often you pulled it out and sorted through the photos whenever you had too much wine, whenever you had off days where you just felt so alone and wished you could go back to the times you had convinced yourself were better. They weren’t, you knew they weren’t once you sobered up and balanced out your emotions.

Jungkook doesn’t feel bothered that not a trace of him remained visible in your home, he knew his presence lingered in the cracks, buried so deep in the crevices of your mind he knew you would always think of him.

He groans softly as his eyes roam the interior of your home, the throbbing in his temples making him stop and shut his lids, not needing to analyze the place he was at less than two weeks ago when you had called him over. Jungkook briefly wonders if he should sneak his way out, not used to waking up on the couch instead of in your bed right beside you, maybe he had said something last night that crossed the line and landed him on the couch as a punishment.

As you finally emerge from your room his plan of escape is put to a stop, his eyes gravitating towards your bedroom door, seeing the way you cautiously step out. Having heard Jungkook wake up since you had already been awake for the past hour, your body not allowing you to sleep while knowing he was in the other room, it took a few minutes of courage before you were able to face him.

Spotting him on your couch shows how much he doesn’t belong, the pinned leather jacket he wore looking so harsh against the light coloring of your furniture, his dark disheveled hair contrasting with the tidy way you organized your apartment. He senses it, the skin crawling sensation that spreads the longer you stare at him, how he felt so out of place somewhere he used to call home at one point.

“Thank you for picking me up.” He chooses to break the silence, voice raspy, his internal self screaming at him for always doing this. His eyes are sincere, genuinely meaning it, knowing just how messy he got when he had too much to drink, how his friends could never handle him when he crossed the line and began to call for you.

Like always his words were routine so he expects it when you huff and say, “You need better friends Jungkook.”

“I know.” Because he did, he knew his friends enabled him, riled him up and once he became too much they pushed him onto you, knowing Jungkook’s grip on you was still too strong for you to ever say no.

“What if I hadn’t picked you up? Would they have left you on the side of the bar to fend for yourself?”

“Probably,” he shrugs, from past experiences he knows very well they would have. His friends had dealt with Jungkook crying over you far too much, their patience fully stamped out, no longer able to tolerate him when he became like this.

Not even realizing when he begins to smile as he thought of the nights you didn’t pick up, how he had ended up in the most random locations because he refused to go home to a place you weren’t, he snaps out of it when you scoff. “It’s not funny Jungkook, you could have gotten hurt or something.”

There it was, the reason you were upset. Not because he had called you and spewed the same bullshit he always did, no that you could tolerate. You were upset, and worried, that you’d get a following call from someone stating he had injured himself while calling for you.

“I know.”

You pause to breathe, his short responses not irking you like it should, arms crossed over your chest as you observe your ex boyfriend still sitting on the couch, looking like a scolded child.

“You can’t call me anymore Jungkook.” How you have the nerve to say that to him is funny, acting as if ten days ago you weren’t the one doing this to him, telling him you missed him, securing your anchor around his foot and dragging him back under with you.

This is the checklist you needed to go down, a formality of the morning after so he doesn’t mind it. Instead he frowns at the way you continue to say his name, the way it rolls off your tongue makes him wince, missing the way you’d call him Kookie, playful pet names like Bunny, something he swore he hated but secretly loved. Jungkook wished he could hear you say it again, humor you with that damned bunny eared headband he’d wear to hear you laugh, squeal as he posed and dance for whatever silly video you recorded as you shouted out the ridiculous nickname.

The last time he heard those words spill out of your mouth had been too long ago.

“I’m sorry.” he admits, he knew he had to stop, couldn’t continue to hold onto the past, knowing how wrong you were for each other but he wasn’t the only one. Those were the same words you told him ten days ago, apologizing with guilty eyes for asking him to come over when you were lonely, needing a familiar body to occupy the space next to you, wanting his hands to soothe you, make you feel whole again just for a night.

Once the sun came up it was back to normal, the two of you having the repeat conversation you had every time, the exact one you were having now. A formality. Nothing more, just mindless words that you would both agree to just to move along, to make you both feel better, more secure with yourself until the next time the phone rang.

Your heart twists in your chest as you look at him, the same toxic love you had for him brewing in your heart, spilling over and burning you but you ignore the pain, convince yourself you don’t feel it as you breathe in. That same rope latches around Jungkook’s ankle as you avert your eyes for a brief second before looking back at him with a small sigh. “Do you want breakfast? I know how you get when you have a hangover.”

He smiles for the first time, charming as always, looking up at you through the subtle waves in his hair. “I probably shouldn’t.”

You know this. He definitely shouldn’t because breakfast will turn into words exchanged, civil at first, flirty the next, a coin flipped to decide if a petty argument would begin or if you’d reminisce about the good times. Regardless of the outcome, what always followed ended with you moaning out his name as he rocked into you, those same empty promises spilling through his lips that you swallowed with a kiss.

A brief moment of bliss, a small dose of the past that only serves to hurt you further but you crave it, loving the small rush that came with arguing, the roughness of his hands as he pushed you around before sliding home, burying his face into your neck as he broke you down all over again.

Normally you’d try to convince him further, but as your mouth opens to protest you get flashes of the night before, how you had carried Jungkook up your flight of stairs, hearing him ramble about nonsense so slurred together you paid it no mind. You would have had him sleep in your bed beside you like you always did but when you fish his phone out and begin to slide his jacket off it buzzes to life.

Always being nosey you type in his password, smiling when you realize it was still your old anniversary but when you unlock it and see a flood of messages from a girl named Natalie, calling him babe, asking where he was, the smile falls from your face as you start to snoop.

It doesn’t take much scrolling through their thread of messages to easily discover she was his girlfriend, blissfully unaware that he was shit faced and calling you, confessing to his love for you while she laid at home and wondered if he was having fun with his friends. She reminded you of yourself, of the way you used to be with him and it left a sour feeling on your tongue.

“Yeah you probably shouldn’t.”

He stands up now, following you slowly as you approach the door, heavy boots thumping on the hardwood as he reluctantly steps closer to the exit. He doesn’t want to leave, wants you to try to convince him to stay, not knowing that you knew the dirty secret he was hiding buried in his phone.

You don’t decide to tell him you know, it was pointless. That was just how Jungkook was wired, so much love to give he had to spread it out, give everyone a fair share of it, choosing to pretend he wasn’t being selfish. It was naive to believe it, to think all the love he held was strictly for you, it was why he was able to pull the hood over your eyes so easily.

Even when you pull the door open and give him a tightlipped smile he knows you’ll still call him, forget all about Natalie when you’re lonely once more. So when you look him in the eyes and sigh, “Goodbye Jungkook.” He knows it’s not for long, maybe a week or so, maybe less.

He simply smiles, stuffing his hands into his jeans as he shuffles out, turning to face you as he steps backwards. “See you later Y/N.” And his words sting in a way he doesn’t mean, knowing just how right he was.

Jungkook would never mind how heavy the anchor you hooked on his ankle was because he knew you would forever be a sucker for him.

As you shut the door behind you it feels like a small weight starts to hang from your shoulders, the same tug starting from your chest, guiding you into your room until you’re pulling out the cursed box and sorting through those damned photos. With stinging eyes you flip through them for a moment, focusing on all the laughs captured on film, blurry vision moving to your phone beside you, hands already itching to call him again.

It’s as if he knows, still inside your building, lingering in the lobby to give you a moment and it doesn’t take long. Once his phone starts to vibrate he smiles, staring at the photo of you as you call him like clockwork. With a clear of his throat he answers the phone, barely saying hello before he hears a small sniffle through the speaker.

“I miss you Kookie.”

Jungkook lets his eyes shut as he presses the elevator button, loving the feeling of being needed by you, already knowing to head back up because this was routine.

“I know you do baby, I’ll be right up.”

And just like that you’re once again desperately trying to make those stupid puzzle pieces fit together, hoping that maybe this time love would be enough.

#ficswithluv #goldenclosetnet #heartsforbts #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts angst #jeon jungkook #new

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bangtanloverboys · 3 years

Text

the first cringe of morning // myg

summary - there were many things one would be nervous about when their new partner spends the night for the first time: was the room clean? is everything in order? did you shave? but you weren’t really nervous about those things, you were nervous as to how he would preceive your scars

pairing - boyfriend!yoongi x trans male!reader

genre - fluff, slight nsfw; newly established relationship au

word count - 1.7k

warnings - mentions of top surgery, reader is slightly insecure of his scars, anxiety, bisexual yoongi, bed sharing, cuddling, non-sexual body worship, kissing, very light non-sexual dom/sub undertones, kinda soft dom!min yoongi, min yoongi being an absolute sweetheart

author’s note - hhhhhh dream scenario honestly. . .happy pride month

Taking a deep breath, you pulled your shirt up, exposing your chest. You stared at your torso in the mirror, your eyes zeroing in on the two thin scars that decorated your chest. You’d gotten top surgery barely a year ago, the scars nearly faded away. You were happy with the results, you’ve never felt happier or more comfortable in your entire life even. You would never go back on the decision you made to get top surgery.

However, it didn’t stop you from being nervous. Why were you nervous? Your new boyfriend, Yoongi, was going to spend the night for the first time ever. You’ve been dating for a few months now and you honestly couldn’t have been happier. You told him you were a trans man a few weeks after you felt like you were possibly getting more serious; he nodded, thanking you for trusting him with the information. While you knew he would do nothing of the sort, your brain couldn’t help but think of terrible outcomes if/when he was to see your chest.

What if he thought you looked deformed? What if he pointed out your nipples and how they looked weird? What if after what if after what if, plagued your mind. It was stupid and you knew that, but your anxiety continued to eat away at you.

The night so far had been pretty good; he arrived with a couple grocery bags of goodies, as you did ask him to pick up some things on his way over. The two of you had a nice dinner, watched a couple movies, and you were both getting ready to settle down for bed. It was established earlier that you weren’t planning on having sex at all that night, neither of you feeling quite ready for that yet. But you slept shirtless, meaning you had the options of either A. getting it over with and showing him or B. sleep with a shirt on and possibly overboil. Anxiety on the rise, you went with the latter option.

A knock on the bathroom door startled you, causing you to drop your shirt.

“I gotta brush my teeth. You decent?” Yoongi asked from the otherside of the door.

With a light chuckle, you unlocked the door, pulling it open for him. “Come in.”

Walking in, his toothbrush in hand, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Thank you. Can I use your toothpaste?”

“Yeah, it’s in the little basket by the sink.” You gestured to the counter behind you. “I’m gonna get the bed ready.”

“Hey,” he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from going any further. “You sure you don’t want me sleeping on the couch? Because I’m more than fine with that.”

“No, it’s okay.” You responded, hoping your voice sounded reassuring. Yoongi stared at you for a moment, possibly sensing your nervousness. He didn’t say anything, only nodding; trusting your words. After releasing your wrist, you made your way to your bedroom.

You had cleaned up everything earlier that day, looking nothing like the mess it was the past couple days. But you were satisfied with it, as long as there was no mess on the floor or dirty dishes anywhere, it was fine. With a sigh, you began taking off the decorative pillows you had on display on your full sized bed, neatly stacking them in a pile. As you continued to get the bed ready, your mind wandered, thinking about how you were going to sleep. Did Yoogni have any sleeping habits? Would he cuddle you while you slept? Would he mind the heat you tend to give off when you sleep? So many different random anxieties started to build up over the ones already there.

“Are we not going to sleep with any pillows or something?” Yoongi’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. Immediately you realized you went a bit too far and even pulled off the actual pillows from the bed, stacking them alongside the decorative ones.

“Shit- I’m sorry, I got a bit carried away.” You gushed as you put the pillows back on the bed.

“No worries.” You got a good look at him as he walked across the room, towards the bed. He was wearing a loose fitted T-shirt, a pair of grey sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips, and his hair was a mess from being tucked away in a beanie all day. “Do you sleep on any specific side of the bed or free range?”

“I sleep on the right side.” You said, pointing to the side you were closest to.

“Alright,” he nodded as he made his way over to the left side of the bed. Pulling back the covers, he climbed into bed. You moved to follow him, but he stopped you. “You’re gonna sleep in your jeans?”

You felt your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment. “Right uh. Hang on.” You muttered as you turned around. As you shuck your jeans off, you can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you, causing the heat in your cheeks to spread to the tips of your ears. Standing in only your boxers and a T-shirt, you deemed yourself ready for bed. When you turned around to face him, you spotted a smirk playing on his lips. Avoiding eye contact, you clambered into bed, shutting off your lamp in the process, leaving you both in the dark room.

The mattress beneath you shifted as Yoongi adjusted himself to lay down and get comfortable. “C’mere.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. You freeze in his hold for a moment, thinking he’s going to possibly make a move, but instead you feel him nuzzle his face into your hair. You smiled as you felt his breathing tickle the skin of your neck. Relaxing into his touch, you allowed yourself to fall asleep in his arms.

When you woke up to the sunlight bleeding through your blinds, you were genuinely surprised to have slept through the whole night. Usually you’d wake up randomly, but Yoongi was a good luck sleeping charm that now you had, you probably won’t ever let go. You shut your eyes again, wanting a bit more sleep before either of you have to get up.

Just as your mind was about to fall back into sleep, you felt the light touch of Yoongi’s lips drag across the skin of your neck. He peppered soft kisses over the exposed skin, gently tickling you. You giggled at the sensation, but didn’t pull away. In fact, you snuggled closer into him. As he sleepily kissed you, you felt the hand that was still wrapped tightly around your waist ever so slowly slip underneath your shirt. The skin to skin contact had you stiffen. Feeling your discomfort, Yoongi moved to whisper in your ear.

“Are you okay with this?”

“I-” You struggled to get the words out. “My scars. I- I don’t-”

“Hey shh,” he murmured, kissing the shell of your ear before he readjusted himself on the bed, now hovering over you. “You can tell me, what about your scars?”

“I-I’ve. . . never really had a partner see my scars in a more. . . intimate setting. . .” You all but shrunk under his gaze, refusing to meet his eyes.

“No, Y/N, look at me.” His hand went to your cheek, gently forcing you to look up at him. Meeting his dark eyes, you feel nothing but adoration pouring out from them, overwhelming you. “I care about all of you, scars and all. You are the most handsome creature I’ve had the privilege of knowing.” You felt tears prick at your eyes, threatening to spill. Your hand went up to cup his cheek, bringing him down to meet your lips. The kiss was nothing too special, it was slow and gentle, yet it didn’t stop your heart from racing. Yoongi’s other hand was sneaking back underneath your shirt as he pulled away. “Is it okay if I show you?”

With a gulp, you nodded.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Yes.” You rasped out.

Once given the green light, he pressed a kiss to your lips, then your cheek, then your neck. He kissed down your clothed torso until he was over your hips, his hands slowly curling up the bottom of your shirt. His eyes never left yours as he exposed more and more skin, stopping just below your scars. Lowing his head to your stomach, he kissed you right below your belly button. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pecked all over your stomach; on occasion he’d catch you by surprise by blowing a raspberry, eliciting a laugh from you.

He reached the edge of your shirt again, placing his hands on the fabric before moving it anymore. “Do you wanna take this off?”

“Yeah.”

It was a bit of a struggle but with Yoongi’s help, you got the T-shirt off. His eyes not once leaving you as he tossed the shirt to some corner of the room. The silence was thick as you watched him stare at you, saying nothing. Embarrassment burned in your cheeks as you moved to cover yourself, but his hands grabbed at your wrists, pinning them to your side.

“You’re absolutely stunning, Y/N.” He praised as he lowered himself to be over your ribcage. “Please don’t doubt that, I see nothing but the most beautiful man in front of me.” Yoongi muttered as he littered kisses along your scars, the sensation light from what little feeling you have left. His words left butterflies erupting in your stomach and your head reeling, trying to accept the compliments he gave you. You don’t think anyone has ever said that to you, hell, you don’t even think you’ve said that about yourself. But to have Yoongi tell you had you drunk.

He’d nip at your skin, testing where you could feel, and when he felt you shutter against him, your boyfriend made sure to pay extra attention there. All while mumbling praises into your skin, assuring you that he thought nothing less of the world of you.

By the time his head came back up above yours, his lips were kiss swollen and you were breathless. Smiling down at you, he leaned down, kissing you one last time before pulling away. He laid his head down on your chest, snaking his arms around you to hold you tight. Your arms went to wrap around his shoulders, messing with his hair at the nape of his neck. There the two of you laid for the next few hours, as the sun rose higher in the sky, simply enjoying each other’s company.

#btsghostie #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader #min yoongi x trans male reader #bts x trans male reader #bts fluff #min yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

Emergency Contact

Summary: When Spencer ends up in the hospital again, his emergency contact — who happens to be his boyfriend, Luke Alvez — is called. Too bad he hasn't told the team about him yet...

Tags: whump, h/c, hurt spencer, broken ribs, coming out, relationship reveal, protective derek, team as family, fluff, au: different first meeting

Pairing: Luke Alvez x Spencer Reid // (heavy on the Derek & Spencer friendship, too)

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Okay, so Emily was not in S11, but for this fic she is, because I wanted supportive Penemily and that's what I gave myself. Other than that, this fills the square "broken ribs" for my Bad Things Happen bingo card. Enjoy the whump mixed with fluff!

Spencer doesn’t mean to get hurt again, but he also isn’t exactly surprised when it happens. If anything, Hotch really needs to stop sending him out to scope places and suspects out by himself. Surely Tobias Hankel proved he’s a trouble magnet in that regard years ago.

The summerhouse the suspect rents is a nice enough place to lay incapacitated while he waits for back-up, he supposes, but he’s not exactly able to lie and enjoy the sunshine when his ribs have been smashed in with a metal baseball bat and he knows the suspect is currently hightailing it down the beach. Not to mention the fact that it’s worryingly difficult to breathe.

Still, it’s better than a dilapidated cabin in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere Georgia, pumped full of heroin while his feet are whipped. Small mercies.

“Goddamnit, Spencer, again?” Derek asks amusedly when he finally arrives and crouches down by his side, but the undercurrent of worry in his voice doesn’t elude him.

“Sorry,” he wheezes, still winded and in immense pain from the ambush. “I didn’t see him coming.”

Derek raises a brow, chuckling slightly. “Yeah, pretty boy, I figured that.” His hand goes to Spencer’s hair as his expression furrows in concern again. “Did you see where he went? I’ll send the others after him while I go with you to the hospital.”

Spencer smiles a little, relieved that he won’t be alone. It’s become a strange sort of tradition to sit in one another’s hospital rooms after the job kicks their ass, and he’s glad Derek isn’t about to break it now.

“I saw him turn right out of the backdoor, but that’s all,” he says breathlessly, before cringing at the effort and folding in on himself even more.

“Okay, Spencer,” Derek says soothingly. “Just relax. The ambulance will be here any second.”

He obeys and closes his eyes as he listens to Derek call Hotch on the radio and send the team in the right direction before coming back to sit next to him on the floor.

“This might be one of the nicer places one of our unsubs has owned, huh?”

Spencer nods, mirroring Derek’s morbid amusement. “Crime pays better than investigating it,” he manages, smiling up at his friend.

He snorts. “You can say that again. With the way the market’s turned in the last couple years it’s more like this is my hobby and my properties are my day job, rather than the other way round.”

Spencer tries to reply, but he moves involuntarily in amusement, and a fresh wave of pain has him wincing again, trying to will the tears away.

“You’re alright, Spence,” Derek says gently, his hand returning to his hair. “Help will be here soon, okay?”

Thankfully, the medics do show up in a semi-timely fashion, and both of them are loaded into the back of the ambulance as the EMTs check him over, Derek’s hand not leaving his person unless it absolutely has to.

“How many times were you hit, Dr Reid?”

He cringes. “Four.” It’s almost embarrassing that the unsub got four hits in, and the only reason there weren’t more is because he was fleeing the scene, not because Spencer was able to fight back. He tries to remind himself that there isn’t much you can do when caught-off guard by a furious arsonist armed with a steel baseball bat, but his ego is still bruised. Albeit not as badly as his poor ribs.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Derek mutters under his breath, his grip tightening on Spencer’s shoulder minutely enough for him to know he isn’t doing it consciously.

Spencer smiles appreciatively, closing his eyes against the pain. The non-narcotic painkillers they’re feeding him through the IV really aren’t doing anything.

“I think you’ve managed to avoid internal bleeding,” the EMT says, all though he tacks on a pointed, “just. But I’m concerned about the possibility of a punctured lung. There’s a chance your trouble breathing is solely pain-induced, but I don’t like the way your chest sounds. The doctors will check everything out when we get to the hospital, and get you all patched up.”

“Hold in there,” Derek says urgently. “I really can’t have you dying on me, pretty boy.”

Spencer smiles as comfortingly as he can through the immense pain in his chest and his mangled breathing. “Trust me, I don’t intend on it.”

The x-ray reveals two broken ribs and confirms the paramedic’s suspicions of a punctured lung, although thankfully, minor enough to not require surgery. He’s set up with oxygen and regular nurse check-ups in a quiet room after the doctor is able to remove the excess air in his chest cavity.

“How are you doing, Spence?” Derek asks worriedly as he pulls up a chair next to Spencer’s bed as soon as he’s allowed to see him.

He pulls away his oxygen facemask to answer. “A bit better,” he says, but his voice is dry and raspy from the oxygen so he certainly doesn’t sound it. “The pain meds are actually working now.”

Derek’s tight, anxious expression relaxes slightly. “That’s at least something.”

Spencer nods tiredly, but before he can respond, a nurse is popping her head round the door. “Dr. Reid,” she says genially, “sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to let you know that we’ve managed to get a hold of your emergency contact, and they’re on their way.”

Spencer’s eyes widen. How could he have forgotten? Granted, he was a little preoccupied with the whole punctured lung, broken ribs thing, but how could he have let it slip his mind that this little accident would lead to the secret he’s been keeping under wraps getting out?

When he’d first met Luke at an FBI gala last year, he never could have foreseen the most intimate and special relationship of his life coming to fruition, but it had. They’d connected on so many different levels, and the chemistry between them felt like something out of one of the fantastical romance novels Penelope reads, and when he’d asked if it was okay for Spencer to put Luke down as his updated emergency contact, he’d been rewarded with a wide, beautiful grin and a firm, heartfelt kiss.

It was serious enough, sure, and they were coming up on having been together for a year, but besides Emily and Penelope — who’d met Luke and developed an amusing, playful rivalry with him — he hadn’t introduced him to anyone on the team.

“On their way?” Derek asks, raising an eyebrow in mild confusion. “Isn’t your contact Hotch? He already knows you’re in the hospital.”

Spencer just stares at him like a rabbit caught in the headlights, completely blanking on something to say. They’re working a local case, so it won’t be long before Luke is bursting into his hospital room armed with cuddles and comfort, and as much as he craves that, he’s too busy panicking about his team finding out to really look forward to it.

Eventually, after watching Derek’s face morph into even stronger, more suspicious confusion, he gives up. They’re going to find out anyway. “I’m dating someone.”

Derek’s face lights up. “Pretty boy!” he exclaims happily, playfully pushing his shoulder as gently as he can. “That’s amazing! Why didn’t you say something? What’s her name?”

Ah. That’s the primary reason he hadn’t told his team about Luke. He’s nowhere close to being ashamed about his sexuality, he accepted himself decades ago, but he’s still not worked up the courage to share that part of himself with his team. Excluding Penelope and Emily who have been together for years (he’s still baffled as to how the others haven’t caught on yet), everyone’s in the dark.

It had started as a basic survival tactic. He’d joined the FBI two years younger than the standard entry age in the early 2000s, and he was far too concerned with just getting by than living outwardly as a gay man. And then, as time went by and he knew his team was accepting and welcoming, he found it too awkward to try and correct people when they assumed he was straight. There just wasn’t ever the right time.

“I’m gay.”

Derek’s happy expression falls and for a split second, Spencer feels a flash of panic. Maybe Derek’s okay with gay people as long as they’re not his immediate friends, as long as he doesn’t playfully call them ‘pretty boy’ and play with their hair when they’re injured, maybe—

“Well, what’s his name, then?”

Spencer looks up from his panic, seeing Derek smiling again, eyes maybe even brighter than they were just seconds ago.

“Wait—”

“Spencer, if you think I’m gonna care that you’re gay — if you think any of us will care that you’re gay, then you have another thing coming,” Derek reassures him. “Wait, that isn’t why you didn’t tell us right?”

He suddenly looks distraught at the idea that Spencer might not have felt comfortable coming out to him, and Spencer rushes to correct him. “No! No, I know everyone would be fine with it, I just didn’t really know how to say it. Penelope and Emily know, but only by accident.”

Derek relaxes, chuckling a little. “I’m sure there’s quite a story there.”

Spencer blushes. “Maybe.”

“I’ll find out later,” he says confidently, winking at him, and something in Spencer loosens at the fact that Derek hasn’t changed his behaviour at all. “But I’m more interested in Mr. Sexy Emergency Contact Mystery Boyfriend Man right now.”

Spencer outright laughs at that, before wincing painfully as his ribs twinge, and he has to fit the oxygen mask around his face again and breathe deeply for a couple of breaths before the nasal cannula can suffice again.

“I met him around this time last year at an FBI gala actually,” Spencer manages. “Everyone on our team bailed except Penelope, Emily, and me. He’s called Luke and he works in the Fugitive Task Force. We just clicked as soon as we met, you know? We have this chemistry that I’ve never felt with anyone before, and we started dating pretty quickly. We actually moved in together last month when his lease was up, but we’re thinking of moving to a bigger, nicer place in Mount Pleasant. Luke’s actually had his eye on this one house that went up…”

He trails off when he notices Derek looking at him strangely, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “What?”

“Nothing,” Derek says gently. “You just look happy, pretty boy. When you started talking about Luke you got this happy, dopey smile on your face, and I’ve just never seen you like that. It’s nice.”

“Oh.” He blushes fiercely at the acknowledgement of just how soft he is for his boyfriend, but it’s not embarrassing, he’s just ridiculously happy and head over heels in love.

Still, feeling a little awkward at the attention, he raises the oxygen mask to his face just for something to do.

“Does he treat you well?” Derek asks seriously, suddenly looking like the FBI tough guy he really is.

Spencer grins and nods, pulling the mask away again. “So good. He’s one of those people that looks out for everyone before himself, you know? He listens to my rambles and tangents like he actually knows and cares about what I’m saying, and he insists on making me every meal we’re both home for. Every day off, he brings me breakfast in bed, and he’ll even suffer through my documentaries even though his favourite thing to watch is action movies. He’s the best boyfriend I could hope for.”

“Good,” Derek says fiercely, even though he’s smiling just a little at the thought of Spencer being taken care of. “But if anything ever changes, I won’t hesitate to—”

“Spencer?” Derek’s interrupted by the door flying over, and a very harried looking Luke Alvez rushing towards the bed, seemingly not noticing the man literally threatening his death right next to him. “Oh my God, Spencer, I was so worried, I thought—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Spencer says, voice still a little weak. Can’t he at least sound convincing when he’s trying to tell these people that he’s fine? “I’m okay, I’ll be out of here before you know it.”

“Are you sure, baby? Do I need to get the doctor? Have they been looking after you, because I swear—”

“Luke,” he laughs, interrupting his worried tangent. “I’m fine, I promise.”

He watches amusedly as Luke sags with relief. “Oh thank God,” he breathes, and it’s then that he appears to notice Derek. “Oh, shit.”

He looks to Spencer with an alarmed look in his eyes, knowing full well that he isn’t out to his team yet, but before apologies can start dripping off his lips, he rushes to fill him in.

“It’s okay. I told him.”

Luke’s face brightens in an illuminating smile, his eyes wide and happy. “You did? I’m so proud of you, cariño.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Derek says, rising from his chair to shake Luke’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you in the last ten minutes.”

Luke grins. “All good things, I hope.”

Derek winks teasingly at Spencer. “Oh, better than good. Spencer here seems quite gone for you.”

He blushes again, but Luke just sits on the edge of his hospital bed and takes his face in his hand. “Well, I’m just as gone for him as he is for me. Probably even more so.”

“No way,” Spencer protests as vehemently as he can with an oxygen mask glued to his face again. “I definitely love you more.”

His words are half swallowed by the mask, and half muffled by the gaggle of FBI agents pouring into his room, all talking over one another loudly.

Luke jumps off the bed and stands to attention as they all quieten down, three of them in complete shock, one of them — Emily, recognising Luke — in anticipation of what’s about to happen.

“Uh,” Spencer starts unsurely, eyes flicking between his boyfriend and his team. “Meet my boyfriend?”

There’s a brief pause before everyone jumps into action again: Emily greeting him warmly, JJ introducing herself, and Hotch and Rossi giving him firm, threatening handshakes as a warning that no harm is to come to their pseudo-son.

Spencer knows they don’t have to worry about that, though, not with Luke, and they’re quickly shown that when he takes his rightful place sat on the edge of his hospital bed again, hands smoothing his hair gently.

“Thank you,” he says to Derek, voice soft and sincere as everyone’s sat leisurely around the room, doing their own thing now they’re calmed down after the initial meet and greet, “for taking care of him. I worry about him, you know, and it’s good to see that he has so many good people looking after him.”

“We all do,” Derek replies, looking over at Spencer fondly. “We’re all incredibly overprotective. Residual effects from him joining the team so young, probably.”

“I can see that,” Luke smiles, looking over at Hotch and Rossi, who still have their eyes trained on him, despite having warmed up to him quickly.

“Well between us all,” Emily interjects diplomatically, “I think we have Spencer covered. He has a lot of good people looking out for him.”

Spencer knows they all think he’s asleep, but he can’t help but say something. “I definitely do,” he slurs tiredly, causing Luke to quickly turn his attention to him, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead as he runs his fingers through his hair with the hand not intertwined with Spencer’s. “Love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” Luke murmurs. “And so does everybody in this room.”

Smiling softly and feeling safe as anything, Spencer finally gives into the heavy pull of tiredness, and lets himself drift off to sleep.

I'm such a sucker for coming out fics omg, I hope you didn't mind that element! But God, I've missed writing Ralvez fics. If anyone has any Ralvez prompts then please send them my way because I want to write them so badly but I really find it hard to find plot for them! <3

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @spencerspecifics @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @ropoto

#my writing #ralvez #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #luke alvez #spencer reid #derek morgan #hurt spencer reid #spencer reid whump #luke alvez x spencer reid #spencer reid x luke alvez #spencer reid/luke alvez #luke alvez/spencer reid #ralvez fic #ralvez fanfic

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red-doll-face · 3 years

Note

Here is a request for slashers if they're open. My brain does a thing where I am affectionate w a person but if I get nudged away (even if it's just to readjust the position), it goes "oh no. They don't want u to touch them. Do not touch ever again or they will get mad at u. U disgust them." Even tho touch is my love language & it hurts, I just won't touch. If confronted, I will get confused & panicky cuz "u didn't want me to touch? Im respecting ur wishes? Did I miss something?" Its a mess.

Requests are indeed open, I’m sorry I take foreverrr to do these but i hope u enjoy! I don’t know what to call this tho. For simplicity’s sake I’m calling this nervous reader lmao, idk what else to call these.

Slashers x gn nervous Reader

Jason Voorhees:

Jason can very much relate to the feeling. When he first meets you, he’s sure that you’re frightened. He restrains from being too close to avoid coming off as overbearing, doesn't want to touch you because if you flinch he’ll be so hurt. He just assumes he disgusts you. Based on the reaction all of his other victims have when they see him, he’s sure you’ll probably be the same.

Once Jason is sure that you don't feel that way, he’s a cuddle monster. He wants to be close all of the time, holding hands, letting you sit in his lap, you name it. He’s so starved and quickly decides that touch is his love language too. He’s not even sure how he’s lived this long without it.

The only time I can see Jason maybe gently sort of setting you down elsewhere and walking off is when he senses strangers on the property of what once was Crystal Lake. He’s out the door before he can even see your hurt expression, Which is worse because this might lead you to jump to conclusions.

If you distance yourself from Jason, he immediately is thrown off. He can’t directly ask you if he’s done something wrong and when he tries to initiate affection with you and you don’t reciprocate whole heartedly, he’s at a loss.

He’ll get on one knee while you sulk on the couch and give you a silent plea to tell him what's wrong. You can panic and try and avoid it but he is certain there's something going on and he wants so badly to know what he’s done to put you off. You tell him and he immediately is shaking his head no, he could never be mad at you, never be disgusted with you. You’re the most breathtaking person he’s ever had the pleasure of holding, the first, most likely.

Jason nods because he understands how you feel. In the future, he’s persistent about how you feel when he untangles himself from you, making sure you’re ok.

Michael Myers:

In the later stages of your relationship, Michael is insatiable when it comes to being in contact with you. For a long time, towards the start of your relationship, he didn’t like it. It felt weird. All of the touch he's experienced prior was so clinical and sterile that he doesn’t quite know how good touch is supposed to feel. He’s so touch starved that he’s almost positive he doesn't even need it.

Slowly, he builds a tolerance for it, much like one does with alcohol, constantly checking his boundaries and letting him control the situation and he’s all for movie night, huddled up on the couch, or waking up with his head on your chest. His own personal pillow.

There are, however, moments when his need to make someone tremble with fear and then blodgeon them to death with a can opener from their own kitchen becomes too strong, so he tries to keep away from you. In the past, he might have used you to satisfy similar desires of a sexual nature and may have really hurt you but he knows that it’s not always enjoyable to you.

Then, you stop touching him. Much like Jason, he starts to think you’ve become sick of him. Sick of his coldness, his muteness, his withdrawn demeanor. Maybe you’ve moved on and he tries to tell himself he doesn’t care but he doesn't think he can see himself touching anyone but you now.

It gets to the point where he comes home one day and you look heavily troubled, expressions he’s seen on your face before, only in the event that something terrible has happened. You ask to speak to him and he obliges.

You explain that you don’t think this relationship is working, that you’re pretty sure he’s disgusted with you and how difficult this event is because you didn't even want to talk about it but it's been hurting you for too long.

His response is to stand up very slowly, pick you up and lay down with you over him, simply laying there. Hopefully, knowing you’re the one person he would ever allow to participate in this intimacy is enough to show you that you mean more than you think you do to him.

RZ Michael Myers:

This Michael is more perceptive to your touch than his counterpart, your touch sends little shivers down his spine and as soon as he gets pretty used to it, he’s eager for more. This also takes some time but significantly less. He’s enamored with the idea of returning to a somewhat normal life. Your affection grounds him in that fantasy as much as being a murderer might take him out of it.

As he establishes a relationship with you, he may even be the one to start touching you instead of the other way around. He’s read books and always wondered what it might feel like to have someone genuinely touch him without fear in their eyes. Without malice.

An unsuccessful ‘day at work’ might have Michael feeling a little het up though. He can be moody and more rageful. Neither you nor his hobbies can calm him. He seems colder than usual in these states and can come off as very standoffish.

So when you try and touch him and he shrugs your hand off his shoulder, he can’t or isn't in the state of mind to address your frown and worried look. Michael, instead stomps off somewhere to be alone for a while; maybe take his anger out on something else. Some unsuspecting soul or maybe even a poor animal in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After he’s calmed down some, he returns and almost forgot about that sad little gleam in your eye before he left. Michael remembers when he sees you blankly staring at the TV, pointedly avoiding his gaze even as you utter a weak welcome home. It’s not very welcoming. He sits stiffly beside you, watching you from the corner of his eye. You’re closed off from him and he doesn't like it at all.

Migrating towards you slowly, he eases you into a familiar hug, his big bear hugs that are a little tight but inviting all the same. His huge torso and long arms seem to swallow you in his warmth. You hardly reciprocate. You look a little surprised. Though he never addresses it verbally, (which is probably better for you) Michael offers a single glance that communicates everything he needs to say. Don't ever think that again.

Thomas B. Hewitt:

Thomas’ self esteem issues and self image are not good. He honestly doesn’t like to imagine what he looks like to other people unless it can be as a threatening man you don’t fuck with. Meeting you, he realizes that it’s good to protect his family but he’d rather you not see him as someone only capable of harm. Tries his best to get the point across that while Hoyt may be adamant that horrible things happen to you, he’s not going to let them.

Thomas has received affection but always a familial affection. A pat on the back from Monty, proud claps to his shoulders from uncle Charlie, and hugs and kisses from his dear Mother. Nothing so foreign as a strangers touch over his arm or a soft embrace.

Unfortunately, Thomas can get reactive when you attempt to touch him without his mask on. He’s absolutely settled on the false reality that you’ll see his face and immediately decide that you never want to touch him again. Interacting with you with his bare face? That's a no for Thomas.

He puts on his mask that covers the scarred skin over his face and you look dejected. He was preparing for you to pressure him but instead finds himself trying to find out why you won’t touch him now. It’s not his face, is it? You respond with your reasoning. Thomas is so confused. How could you think that you disgust him? That he doesn’t want you to touch him?

He’s quicker than the others and immediately sweeps you up into his arms and holds you as close as humanly possible. Feeling disgusting and like some sort of burden is a feeling he’s so familiar with and if he can take it away from you, he will.

Will aggressively initiate touch with you for the next week or so just to solidify the fact that he cares about you and won't reject you just as you didn’t reject him.

Bubba Sawyer:

Bubba is a great cuddle buddy and partner. Hugs are his favorite and he hugs his brother all the time, lifting both Nubbins and Chop Top into the air for some brotherly love. If you’re smaller than them he’s all about picking you up and perhaps a little rough housing with you. He’s careful though or at least there are attempts made to be careful

Bubba, though he could easily spend the whole day doing nothing and everything with you, has work. Chores, butchering. Cooking, and tending livestock. Plenty to do at the sawyer house and he does most of it. Suffice to say there are times when you want to lather attention all over him yet he has to go back to work.

So caught up in work that he doesn't get what's going on til way later, when you’ve had time to stew in your emotions, firmly telling yourself that Bubba is annoyed by you probably. He’s baffled and confused at your silence, your crossed arms. The little furrow in your brow. He can already tell there’s something upsetting you.

Honestly, Bubba is so affectionate I can’t see him being the kind of person even capable of alluding to the fact he might be disgusted by you. How, if all he wants to do is love you? You may bring it up as a joke that you thought he didn’t like you and he almost seems offended. Not like you?

Bubba can squash any feelings you may have about that and then some. He will not let you drown in insecurities, not on his watch. This man will do everything in his power to make you feel beautiful because you really are.

I’m sorry these are super long but thanks for requesting!

#slasher x reader #michael myers #michael myers x reader #halloween #rz halloween movie #rz michael myers #rz michael myers x reader #jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #friday the 13th #thomas brown hewitt x reader #thomas brown hewitt #thomas hewitt #bubba sawyer x reader #bubba sawyer #leatherface x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #slashers

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juhaksworld · 3 years

Text

The Boyz reactions to dating someone super shy

Sangyeon:

Would become full on motherly towards you?? If that makes sense. like if you were hiding behind him he would try and help you overcome your fear and talk to people. he would understand if you were overthinking everything and try his best to talk through things with you and help you see that people weren’t as scary as you thought they were. lowkey though,, he would think you were adorable! he would always ask at the end of the day if you had a good day-- if you had too many interactions or got through the day comfortably. he would often tell you stories of really interesting strangers he’s talked to, hoping to give you courage, but never pushing you to talk to people too much.

Jacob:

kinda shy himself, so he would totally get where you were coming from. y’all would hide from people together haha. If you were at a party or a gathering of some sort you would never separated from each other so you didn’t have to face people alone. you would take turns talking with people you didn’t know or that slightly intimidated you. y’all would cling to each other for dear life and whisper to each other often that you were both gonna be ok and that you were doing well! would lowkey simp for you if you ordered food for the both of you. he would try his best to always take over the conversation for you if he saw the light die in your eyes, even if he was mentally tired himself.

Younghoon:

wholeheartedly head over heels for you. when he first started talking to you before you were dating he noticed you were shy and that swept him off his feet. Imagine him talking to Chanhee: “did you see that she barely made eye contact? adorable! she looked at me for a little bit though! I wonder if she likes me and is extra shy around me or if she's always like that….either way it’s so cute!!” After you start dating he would see that you were just always shy and needed someone to rely on when conversing with strangers. he loves being that person. patting you gently on the head while you held his arm listening in wonder when he talked with people much easier than you even though he was kinda shy himself. you just being with him helps him feel less shy. you give him confidence to do all the talking for you both.

Hyunjae:

oh goodness ;-; this boy would tease you a lot. he would never mean to upset you though, so if he’s teasing too much just let him know and he’ll stop. when y’all would go out to eat he would coax you to order your food yourself, but would end up doing it for you because your voice is so quiet lol. he loves watching you when you finally see someone you trust and love, whether it’s him or another friend of yours. If you’re at a party and you're just watching people, too afraid to say anything, and then your whole face lights up and you become a chatterbox bc you’re with someone you love and trust, he falls in love again. thinks it’s a little sad that strangers scare you but is super protective of you. like if anyone else is pressuring you to talk he would instantly take over for you. he hates seeing you be put in an uncomfortable situation by someone who you’re not close to, so he pushes his way into the conversation immediately.

Juyeon:

the first time he met you you were so quiet he thought you were about to cry because something bad had happened, or you just really didn’t like him so he did his absolute best to make you comfortable and cheer you up. It worked because you quickly became very comfortable around him and he liked you so much once you warmed up to each other that he asked you out and you became best friends and a couple ( a very cute one too I might add ) so anyways he’s pretty quiet too, although he’s not exactly shy, so he takes care of you whenever you’re out in public without pushing you to get out of your comfort zone too much. perhaps because he knows you’re content avoiding strangers and he doesn't want anyone to try and steal you away from him.

Kevin:

Kev would definitely be the gentleman type to step up and take care of the conversation with strangers for you even if he is an introvert himself. you would notice and try your best to come out of your comfort zone and take turns dealing with people for him. he would notice and love you so much for that. like seriously, cue the clingy kev. holding your hand and your arm and patting your head after you ordered food for the both of you, or took over the conversation some persistent stranger wanted to have with y’all. he would think it was super cute the way your ears turned pink and your soft voice naturally lured the person in you were talking to. It would make him so proud to see others easily talking with you without even noticing that you were super nervous, because you were so good at hiding how you felt and making the other person comfortable. he would cheer you on and compliment you constantly.

Chanhee:

shy boy, shy girl. y’all would be soooooo cute together. like people at parties would see you both just sitting aside from others practically on each other's lap, talking quietly together, knowing you were the best dressed people there, and playing games on your phones softly giggling together. when you had to interact with strangers Chanhee would for the most part, bc he’s confident and knows he can even if he doesn’t like to and he knows it impresses you which he loves to do, so win win for you both haha. sometimes you’ll break through your comfort zone and talk with a stranger or order your own food confidently and make him very proud of you which is also a win win <3

Changmin:

this boy. he’s such a tease. he would make you order your own food, or talk with someone who approached you both because he loooooooooves the way you slightly stutter and giggle softly in between sentences and your voice is so soft and pretty when you’re shy. If you started to feel too overwhelmed he would take over for you ofc. usually if you’re the least bit scared or upset because of something he would definitely take care of any human interactions for you, but if he got the chance he would gently push you out of your comfort zone, just because he finds you so endearing. he loves how you turn around to face him after talking to someone and sighing and then smiling and visibly relaxing bc you’re with him. If someone gives the tiniest hint of weird vibes he takes care of them for you. asks each day when you get home how everything went. would comfort or compliment you accordingly. loves to make known that your feelings are valid and he’s proud of you no matter what!

Haknyeon:

He would be a mixture of Sangyeon and Changmin, like he would gently push you to break through your comfort zone because “it’s good for you!” but then he would silently die from the cuteness behind your back. for Kevin I said he liked seeing you lure others in because of your soft voice...well for Haknyeon?? he would love making you feel shy so you lured HIM in with your soft sweet voice. like he’d lean really close to your face when you were talking so you started blushing and tripping over your words and looking down away from him and then he’d just be so filled with admiration for you that he’d lift your face up gently and look at you tilting his head slightly listening to whatever you were saying very carefully. he’d do a lot of the talking for you in public though actually because he doesn’t want anyone else to fall for your shy charms.

Sunwoo:

he’d tease you a lot when you were away from others,, like at home he’d be like “why don’t you just try and talk to people?? they’re not that scary.” and then you’d hit him gently and laugh because you knew whenever you were out in public he didn’t even give others the chance to talk with you unless he was 100% positive you felt comfortable around them. he loves watching you talk with others when you’re happy and confident around them, but the minute you start to stumble over your words and hesitate at all he takes over for you. he would never want you to be uncomfortable and he’s super understanding of your shyness. he always asks you at the end of the day when you’re home how the day was and if everything went alright. If the day went well he’s super happy and relieved, if not, he calmly and quietly reassures you everything will be alright.

Eric:

what is shyness? he wonders. he can’t quite get why you would be so afraid of others, but that doesn’t stop him from being super kind and gentle. he has no problem doing all the talking for you and it seems natural for him to just order the food for both of you. he’s so talkative that when you’re at a party he just does all the talking for you without even noticing. the first time he met you and saw you ordering food he was shocked that you were stumbling over your words so much and even looked afraid. he asked you about it later and when you explained that you were super super shy and fear just washed over you whenever you tried to talk to strangers. he was surprised but he thought it was cute?? but kinda sad too??? anyways once he found out you were afraid to talk to people he thought that meant you were just afraid of humans in general and he always had his arm around your waist or shoulder to “protect” you from other people uwu

#the boyz #the boyz fanfic #the boyz fluff #the boyz reactions #the boyz ff #sangyeon #jacob #younghoon #hyunjae #juyeon #kevin #chanhee #changmin #juhaknyeon #sunwoo #eric #haknyeon's smile gives life

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

As Soon As I Can

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request from @alienstardust: Umm All the angst in those childhood prompts. I’m a fan! Yes! <3 Maybe something with Nestor? 💫 thank you

I went with this prompt from This Post: When Person A and Person B were kids, Person A broke their arm and had to wear a cast for a while. To make them feel better, Person B decorated it by drawing a bunch of doodles and quotes all over it. When Person A finally got the cast off, they asked the doctor if they could keep it. Years later, Person A takes the cast to a tattoo artist and gets all of Person B’s doodles and quotes tattooed onto their arm so they can wear them forever.

Warnings: language, angst, hospitals

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I looooooved writing this. Writing has been tough for me lately but this just felt really right. This is my first fic where I’ve done a lot of time skips within the story so hopefully it flows alright. Hope you guys enjoy! xo

General Mayans Taglist: @garbinge @mayans-sauce @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @sillygoose6969 @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck

You and Nestor were sitting in your back yard, sprawled out together under the one tree that managed to survive so many years in the California heat. You were laying on your back, cast-bound arm lying rigidly out to the side. You were staring up through the leaves as you listened to Nestor talk.

“At least they let you pick the color,” he was next to you, laying on his stomach as he dug through his backpack.

You laugh was heavy with sarcasm, “Yea, if I’m not gonna be able to move my arm for the next eight weeks it’s the least they could fucking do.”

“You sound bitter.”

You looked over at him, “I am bitter.”

He chuckled and shook his head, he was about to come back with a witty remark when he got distracted by finding whatever he had been looking for. He smiled as he pulled it out, “Aha!” he held up his pack of Sharpies.

“What’re those for?” you nodded towards the markers.

“For your cast.”

“You’re gonna decorate my cast?” you had to laugh.

“Yea,” he was carefully choosing a few different markers to start with, “Maybe it’ll make you feel better about totally eating it falling off your skateboard the other day.”

You laughed as you reached over and shoved him with your good arm, “Shut up—like you haven’t fallen a million times.”

“No casts for me, though,” there was a cocky smirk on his face.

“No casts for me, though,” you mocked as you tried not to laugh.

You watched him in semi-silence as he started at your wrist and slowly but surely made his way up your cast, covering it with all sorts of doodles and quotes. Sometimes you forgot how artistic he could be. You went back and forth between watching him and just resting your head back and closing your eyes. Neither of you kept track of the time as he stayed sprawled on his stomach beside you. the two of you probably would’ve stayed out until dark if your mom hadn’t stuck her head out and said that Nestor’s brother was there to pick him up and bring him home. Nestor threw all of his things back into his bag before helping you up.

Once he was gone, you took some time to actually look at the cast. You smiled at the amount of work he put into something that you were only going to have for a couple months. Your fingers traced lightly over the many marker lines that now covered your cast. Your mother looked over your shoulder at the artwork, a smile passing over her lips for a moment.

“Did Nestor do that?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of your arm, “Yea.”

She nodded, “That was sweet of him.”

You scoffed trying to suppress the smile on your face, “I guess.”

The next eight weeks passed by. And, despite the fact that having your arm in a cast was incredibly inconvenient, it could have been a lot worse. Nestor walked with you to all of your classes, offering to carry your backpack despite the fact that you told him that your busted arm had nothing to do with your ability to carry a bag. Whenever the two of you were together and things were quiet, he would keep adding onto the tiny mural that was your cast. Sometimes you wondered how much more he could fit on it, but he always found a way. For as much as you wanted it off, you were going to miss the bonding time for the two of you. And you were going to miss the artwork, too.

“So,” the doctor smiled and nodded at you, “you are all good to go. We can get the cast off and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Yea?” the thought of having your arm back made you feel giddy.

“Absolutely.”

You felt like a new person once your arm was free of the confines of the cast. Letting out a sigh of relief, you rotated your wrist a few times and carefully ran your fingers over the freshly-exposed skin, glad to feel like you were back in control of your own body.

“I can get rid of this,” your doctor held up the cast he’d just finished so carefully removing, “Unless you want to keep it as a momento.”

“Um, actually,” you felt your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with your mother, “Could I keep it?”

The doctor nodded, smiling as he handed it over to you, “It’s quite the work of art at this point—I understand wanting to hold onto it.”

On the drive home, you felt your mother glancing over at you every couple of minutes, a knowing smile on her face. You tried to ignore it but eventually you broke.

“What?” you were careful of your tone.

She laughed quietly and shook her head, “Nothing. Just, I think it’s nice that you’re keeping it, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” you tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks again, but that only made it worse.

You never told Nestor that you kept the cast. You never really knew exactly why you didn’t tell him—the two of you told each other pretty much everything else. The two of you spent almost all of your free time together, and as soon as he found out that your cast had been removed he was dragging you right back out to do things that could potentially break your arm all over again, and you let him. He never asked about the cast, so you never brought it up. There were moments, as the two of you got a little older, where you wanted to mention it to him in passing that it was something that you kept, but the moment never seemed quite right. Each time you went to clean out your room and your closet you would come across it, and each time you were faced with the decision of whether or not you wanted to keep it, and you always did. You always told yourself that you didn’t know why, but you knew.

“Alright,” you were trying not to let yourself get too emotional as you sat cross-legged on his bed watching him pack “You can’t do anything stupid while I’m not around to yell at you for it, alright?”

He chuckled as he shoved another shirt into his bag, “Trust me, there will be plenty of other people around to yell at me. That’s the whole point of—”

“But they can’t do it as well as I can.”

He glanced over at you, a small smile on his face. He knew how upset you were despite the fact that you were still being supportive. Him going into the Navy was something that you hadn’t seen coming. The thought of him being gone for so long after the two of you had spent so much of your lives practically joined at the hip was a bit jarring. You knew the ache in your chest was caused by more feelings than you were ready to admit to him, or to yourself.

“It’s not like you’ll never hear from me.”

You huffed, “Snail mail is not the same as bothering you in person,” you flopped backwards on the bed, “And for the record I still think it’s bullshit that you don’t get to call me.”

He laughed as he stood up and sat on the bed, looking down at you, “Don’t be dramatic. I’ll be in basic for less time than you had that stupid cast on your arm.”

“Yea but it’s not like you’re coming right home after that.”

He nodded, his expression sobering a little as he continued to look at you, “I know.”

“You’ll come home to visit me as soon as you can?”

He chuckled, nodding, “As soon as I can.”

For a moment you thought about spilling your guts—telling him everything that you were thinking and feeling. There was something about the way that he was looking at you that made you feel like maybe he felt the same way. But the confidence that shot through you went away as quickly as it appeared, and the moment passed as he continued to pack his things.

True to his word, you got letters in the mail. You saved each one, kept them stashed away in your closet alongside the cast that was still there collecting dust even after years of being shuffled around. You sent more letters than you received, not that you really minded. You figured that he needed them more than you did.

However as the months ticked by, you waited for him to say he was coming home, but he never did. It was one thing right into the next and the more time that passed by, the more you wondered if this was how he slipped away from you, even though he swore that that wouldn’t happen. He reached out when he could, when he had the time. And you knew that he had other priorities, and realistically you did too. But there was still part of you that felt like things were changing too much.

Your heart sped up inside your chest when you got a late-night phone call from him. You scrambled to answer it, “Hello?”

“Hey,” he sounded exhausted.

“Hey,” you pulled your blanket up to your chin as you spoke to him, “H-how are you?”

“I’m alright,” he sighed, “It’s good to hear your voice.”

You smiled despite the weight settling in your chest, “It’s good to hear yours too. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

You didn’t want to push and pry, but you couldn’t help asking, “When are you coming home?”

There was a long pause before he spoke up again, “I, uh, I don’t really know.”

“Don’t they give you guys leave or something?”

He let out a tired chuckle, “Yea. But, um, I’m not sure if I’m going to be coming home for leave anytime soon.”

Your heart crumped inside your chest, “Why not?”

“Got some shit that I’m working on lining up here. Doesn’t hurt to stay close.”

You hated that your bottom lip was beginning to tremble, “Right.”

He knew you too well and you could hear the shift in his tone, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you replied immediately, “Fuck, don’t be sorry. I’m proud of you, really. Keep…keep doing your thing.”

“Thank you for always being there. It’s been…it’s been nice knowing someone is in my corner when no one else seems to be,” there was a beat of silence, “You seen my family lately?”

You took a deep breath, “No. Why, everything alright?”

He sighed, “Wouldn’t know.”

You pressed your lips together into a tight line—things had never been simple for him when it came to family, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be home to see you as soon as I can be, alright?”

Your breath was shaky as you exhaled, “Alright,” you were about to say goodbye but your brain betrayed you, “Hey, Nestor?”

“Yea?”

“I love you,” the words fell from your lips, free of their confines after so many years of locking them away.

It might’ve been you projecting, but you could’ve sworn that he let out a sigh of relief, “I love you too.”

That was the last thing that you’d heard from him. He went radio silent after that. You wondered if it was just you that he was ignoring, but no one seemed to have heard anything from him—his own family included. The only things that were running through your mind were terrible. All of your calls went unanswered, all of your texts went unopened. The letters that you sent didn’t get kicked back to you but you never got responses to any of them either. He had blipped off the radar seemingly without a trace and you had no idea why. You lost a lot of sleep over it but at the same time, life didn’t stop for anyone. You had to keep moving forward while a very large part of you was stuck in the past.

You were packing up your room, getting ready to move into your own apartment. You were throwing things from your closet into random bags and boxes—organization had never been your strong suit. As you were leafing through everything, pulling things down off the top shelf of your closet, you were smacked in the face with a stack of papers. You managed to catch them before they hit the ground, tears instantly springing into your eyes when you realized what they were. Your heart sped up inside your chest as you stood on your tip-toes, reaching for the very back of the shelf. The feeling of the plaster underneath your fingers sent a shock through your body as you pulled it towards you. Looking over it, you were bombarded with an onslaught of memories.

Packing fell by the wayside as you sat on your bed, reading through the letters and looking over all the artwork that was still holding up on the cast. How you managed to keep your tears from falling, you didn’t know.

There was a light knock on your door and you looked up, trying to make yourself look much less upset than you were. The smile immediately dropped from your mother’s face when she saw what you were doing, how it was upsetting you. She leaned against the doorframe as she tried to figure out what to say to you to try and make things better.

“I’m sorry, honey,” her tone was sincere.

You shook your head as you set your cast to the side, “Don’t be. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You hadn’t really spoken much to her about it all—there wasn’t a whole lot to say. You didn’t have any answers and with each day that went by it was less likely that you would ever get them. It was difficult to tell whether or not it was more reassuring for you that no one had heard from him, not just you.

“There’s nothing to talk about. He just fucking disappeared, I guess. I just need to accept it and get on with my life.”

“He was your best friend—you’re allowed to be upset about it, you know.”

Even though you knew it, it was nice to hear her say it to you. Wiping the tears from your eyes before they could stain your cheeks, you nodded, “I know.”

She lightly drummed her fingers on the door frame, “You keeping those?”

There was a long pause before you finally nodded, “I think so.”

She nodded, “I’ll go grab you another box.”

“This thing looks like it’s been through the wringer,” your tattoo artist chuckled as she looked over the cast you’d brought with you.

You managed a smile, “Because it has. I’ve had that thing since I was in, fucking, like eighth grade I think? Long time.”

“What made you decide to get this done now?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Figured it’ll be better than moving it from one closet to the next over the course of my life.”

You could tell by the look on her face, that she wanted to ask for the story behind it all. But the fact that you didn’t offer it up, made her not pry. You’d always been open so if you were keeping something to yourself, she respected that. The two of you talked about the logistics of it, and the changes you want to make to clean it up a little bit. You were excited to come back and get it done, though.

Despite the wait, your excitement and nervousness about coming back didn’t fade. You didn’t regret the decision, but it was still nerve-wracking as you got ready to sit down in the chair. She had you look over the pattern she’d drawn up, and when you gave her the okay she laid the stencil out on your arm and got to work. You watched her as she brought it all to life—it was a little cleaner and more grown-up than the original scribbles and doodles, but it felt right. Tears stung at the edges of your eyes but it wasn’t because of the physical pain of getting the tattoo.

She was wrapping it up in saranwrap as she gave you the run-down of taking care of the tattoo. You’d heard the spiel before but you still listened anyway. You had a hard time taking your eyes off of the artwork as you made your way back out to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you let out a sigh as you tried to inspect the ink as best you could through the wrap around your arm.

The next day, you were putting on a fresh wrap over your tattoo after your shower when you heard your phone buzzing in the next room. With a heavy sigh, you slapped a piece of tape onto the wrap and scrambled to get to your phone before you missed the call. Looking down at the screen, you didn’t recognize the number. But it was an off-hour for a scammer to be calling so you answered it on a whim. Worst case scenario you would just hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, my name is Rita and I work at Imperial Hospital. I’m looking for Ms. Y/N?”

“Um, speaking?” you had no idea where this was going.

“Good morning. Someone was admitted and you are their only emergency contact—no next of kin listed. Do you know a Mr. Nestor Oceteva?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “Yes,” you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, “Yes I do. Is he alright?”

“He’s going to be fine,” her tone was calm enough to give you the smallest sliver of reassurance, “But we do need you to come in and answer some questions for us. He’s been in and out of it and we need someone who can give us reliable information.”

“O-okay. Yea. Yea I’ll leave right now. It’ll be about an hour or so before I get there though. Is that alright? He’s going to be okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s going to be fine. Thank you so much for your cooperation.”

You hung up the phone and started flying around your apartment to get ready. You had no idea what you were about to be walking into but at this point you didn’t care. All these years you’ve been wondering about him and he was two towns over. You were as angry as you were relieved.

The line of questions that the nurses asked you seemed endless. You knew that it was all important but there was nothing that you wanted more than to be in the room and see that it really was him, that this wasn’t just some cruel trick from the universe.

Finally, the nurse started walking you back. You only heard half of what she was saying to you about his condition as the two of you approached the room. You heard that he was stable and the rest didn’t really matter to you. your hands were trembling as she gestured to the door to his room, telling you that she would give you a few minutes to yourselves.

You slowly opened the door and a sob lodged itself in your throat as you looked at him. He was passed out, whether the sleep was genuine or from the meds you didn’t know. Truthfully, it was almost difficult to see that it was the Nestor you knew and loved—but you could still see it. Underneath the cuts and scrapes, beneath the braids and the tattoos, there was still your Nestor. The man you knew all those years ago was somewhere underneath it all.

Walking over, you collapsed in the chair next to his bed. You reached out and took his hand in your own, seeing the scars and scabs that covered his knuckles. Whatever he’d been doing all those years, it wasn’t treating him well. You let out a shaky breath as the tears started to fall. You tried to keep your emotions bottled up and quiet, but you couldn’t. There were too many there that you had been battling with and pushing down over the years.

Your crying made him stir. With a quiet groan of pain he opened his eyes and turned to look and see who was in the room with him. His entire body went stiff as his eyes flew completely open, unable to believe that you were sitting there with him.

“H-holy shit,” he coughed, trying to sit up, “Y/N?”

He was conscious and able to speak, so you punched him in the upper arm, “As soon as I can my ass, Nestor.”

He winced and smiled, and you could see all of the motions in his eyes, “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“You fucking should be.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

There were a few beats of silence and then he heard the crinkling of the wrap on your arm as you crossed them and he nodded towards it, “Fresh?”

Heat instantly flooded to your face and you fought the urge to get up and run out of the room, “Got it yesterday.”

“Can I see?”

You hated that he was talking to you like everything was normal, but you couldn’t lie and said that you didn’t miss it. Taking a deep breath, you laid your arm down on the hospital bed for him to inspect. A smile instantly took over his features when he saw what it was. He looked up at you, and when he saw the happiness and hurt both in your expression, his smile dulled a little bit.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck, Nestor?”

“I know, I know. I should’ve said something.”

“Uh…yea.”

“When they let me out of here, will you let me take you somewhere and tell you all about it?”

“I mean. I guess. But only because I’m nosey,” you managed a smile through the tears.

“I love you.”

The words made your heart skip a beat in your chest, “I love you too.”

“That’s way less clunky than a cast,” he tapped the plastic wrap.

You smiled, wiping the tears away, “Yea, I guess so.”

“I can’t believe you still have the same number after all these years.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, “I kept it in case your ass decided to smarten up and call me one of these days.”

“Hospital calling you on my behalf doesn’t count?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “No. No it doesn’t.”

He reached over and clasped your hand in his, “I’m really glad that you’re here.”

With a deep sigh, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his forehead, careful to miss all the scrapes, “Me too.”

There was so much more to be said, but it could wait. You tried to soak up the feeling of his hand over yours, smiles appearing on both of your faces despite the lost time and the gravity of the situation. A lot of things had changed, but as you felt the heat from his palm and the way his thumb traced back and forth over your hand, you knew the important things were still exactly the same.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva imagine #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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obeyme-kaidii-writes · 3 years

Text

Finding Their Porn

All Brothers x gn!MC

Format - Headcanon / Scenario

Words - 909

Content warnings - no smut, pretty cute and fluffy all things considered

Prompt/inspiration - none

AO3

Scene -

It was the weekend at the House of Lamentation, and Lucifer had decided to enforce a “Spring Cleaning” day, having tired of his brothers constantly leaving things scattered throughout the house. Sorting through a box of items your favorite demon had given you, you find a strange, yet somewhat familiar magazine. Upon closer inspection, you realize it was pornography that must have belonged to your boyfriend, and at that exact moment, who should enter your room but…

Lucifer

The moment he realized he had given you the wrong box of items, he panicked.

Not in an obvious way, of course, but he did not hesitate to head directly to your room to get back what he had mistakenly given you.

Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his surprise when he saw you flipping through the pages when he opened the door.

He will try to maintain his composure and pretend like he’s not mortified.

Please use this opportunity to tease him. It’s not often you’re able to get under his skin and leave him so flustered.

Careful, if you take it too far, he will be quick to show you just how experienced he is with such things.

Mammon

He debated for a while even going to your room to fetch the offending items. He considered just playing it cool and pretending he didn’t know what you were talking about if you asked.

Finally caves when he realizes that one of his brothers might possibly find it before you, and he knows he’d never be able to fool them.

Can’t decide between embarrassment and being horny when he opens your door to see you looking at the magazine.

Tease him about it, and he will turn to mush, eager to please you and talk about his preferences.

Just please don’t mention these things in front of anyone else, ok? Keep this a secret between you and him.

Leviathan

He actually doesn’t realize what’s happened until he opens your door to drop off a second box of manga he thinks you’ll like.

As soon as he sees what’s in your hand, all the color drains from his face and he starts crying.

Poor boy has a legit panic attack.

Probably the only way to comfort him will be to pull out your own collection of kinky/smutty manga/books to show him you’re just as weird.

It will take a lot of reassurance to make him comfortable and to help him calm down.

Please give him plenty of kisses and cuddles.

Once he realizes you share some of his...tastes...or at least don’t judge him for it, he’ll be happy to talk about these things in private.

It’ll just take him a while to get to that point.

Satan

He blushes immediately when he opened your door and saw what you were reading.

It’s honestly surprising that this hasn’t happened before now with how cluttered his room is and how many books he owns.

He tries to be a gentleman about the whole thing, politely asking for his book back, while avoiding eye contact and refusing to say specifically what he’s after.

If you pretend to be clueless, he’ll only get more flustered.

Until he realizes you know exactly what you’re doing, and are doing it intentionally.

He will then seize the opportunity to distract you and make you forget all about that one book you shouldn’t have seen.

Asmodeus

Did you seriously think this got mixed in on accident? Are you that naive?

Of course it wasn’t a mistake. Asmo put it there on purpose. He wanted you to find it.

What better way to start a conversation than by casually introducing you to some things you may not be familiar with?

When he drops by your room to check on you, he’s delighted to see you looking through what he left.

Once he’s sure you’re ok with it, he will openly and freely discuss anything that may have caught your eye.

He’s really eager to take you shopping and pick out some new toys or lingerie to try.

Beelzebub

He feels absolutely awful about this. He’d never do anything to make you uncomfortable and he goes to your room immediately to apologize.

He’s really surprised and somewhat embarrassed to find you looking through the misplaced magazine.

He lets you know it’s alright if you want to keep it.

Cautiously asks you if there was anything you were interested in.

If you respond favorably, he’s very eager to discuss things with you. But he won’t push the subject if it’s not something you’re interested in.

Would love to be surprised by you one day with something you two discussed.

Belphegor

Like Asmo, he definitely left the magazine mixed in with everything else on purpose.

His motives are a lot less pure though. He just wants to tease you because he loves seeing you blush.

When he comes to check on you, he blushes violently when he sees you just casually flipping through the magazine.

That doesn't stop him from still trying to tease you though.

Feigns innocence, but you know Belphie. You know he’s a little shit. And you love him for it.

He’ll make some lewd suggestion to try to fluster you, but if you agree with him, he’ll end up being the one flustered.

The two of you will have a lot of fun teasing each other, and maybe trying a couple new things too.

A/N - feel free to use these to write full length stories. ☺️ I’d love to see them! Just credit me if you do. 😘

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fabricated-misslieness · 3 years

Note

Hey, can you do a Dazai x Port Mafia Executive Male Reader. Where reader is Dazai former partner before he gets replace by Chuuya and instead of Chuuya coming for Q and fighting Lovecraft its reader instead. Readers ability is like Shigaraki from bnha.

Dazai Osamu x sadistic!male reader

Ngl I was a little confused cause the last time I watched bsd was months ago.

Also made the reader sadistic because yes. i forgot the reason

Part 2

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 3859

Warnings: Mentions of suicide (Dazai stuff ofc), angsty boi

“You want me to pair up with this rookie?” You gesture in the vague direction of Dazai. You know he’s there, but you don’t act like it.

Dazai huffs, offended by your words. He crosses his arms. You weren’t giving him the best impression and if you were going to be partners, he at least had to tolerate you enough to keep his head on his shoulders.

“Now, now,” Mori chides with a sweet tone. You don’t trust the guy, he may act kind, but you’re sure he hides something with that kindness. “He’s already a port mafia executive.” You roll your eyes, he was only one of them because he witnessed the old boss handing down his title ‘willingly’. You seriously doubted he did do it willingly, seeing as it was a mere few minutes before his death. That sort of coincidence belongs to a movie.

“Like I don’t know that.” You shake your head. “Fine, fine, I’ll be his partner. I only want to know what he can do. He has an ability, doesn’t he?”

You finally acknowledge his presence, turning to him and sizing him up. Dazai is flustered by the gesture, but he pretends to act calm and collected, something that works with that young poker face of his.

“Yes--” Mori is interrupted by the executive himself, who is eager to show off.

“Yes, I do.” Dazai replies, uncrossing his arms. “But what’s yours?”

You furrow your eyebrows. Abilities are wide and unique, ranging from psychological to physical to straight magic. Knowing your ability could be a part of his ability. You were to work together so he’d know either way, but at the moment, you wanted to know his weaknesses.

“That’s valuable information.” You crack your knuckles and stretch, pretending to prepare for a fight.

“No fighting in my office.” Mori reminds you. “Or the building, for that matter. One of your abilities is particularly destructive, and we don’t know what you could do. Go to the training area if you’re going to fight.”

You give both of them a smirk, “Who says I was going to fight? I was merely enjoying the look in Dazai’s eye.”

Dazai frowned, quickly fixing his composure. It’s true, he was a little intimidated and he did not mean to let it show.

“You’re quite sadistic, aren’t you?” Mori chuckles, shaking his head.

“That’s one thing right about me, boss.” You smile brightly. Dazai furrows his eyebrows and examines you. That smile of yours is sickeningly sweet, almost mocking. You look like a monster, but maybe that was part of your act. He’d know your ability in no time.

“Well, as partners you do have to know each other’s abilities. I picked Dazai specifically for you.” That gave each of them a hint to each other’s abilities, more to Dazai than anything.

You nod letting out a sigh, “Do you have anything you don’t want, Mori?”

Dazai quirks an eyebrow, interested in the peculiar question. Mori nods, nudging forward a tongue depressor, those big wooden popsicle sticks, one he could very well spare.

You pick up with all but one finger, your middle finger, holding it up for both of them to see. “Do you have anything for the debris?” Mori slides a metal tray towards the edge of the table.

“Pay close attention, Dazai.” You give him a glance before looking back at the stick, putting your final finger on it. It disintegrates in a matter of seconds, turning into pieces so small that they look like ash. “What’s yours?” You turn to him.

Dazai seems to shrink under your gaze, but he keeps a stoic look. “Put your hand on my arm.” You raise an eyebrow. Does he wish to experiment with your ability or is it part of his?

You put your hand on his arm, once again with all but one finger. You don’t trust him, that much is clear.

“Trust me.” The look he gives you is genuine, albeit the smile is devilish, though you oblige all the same.

Your eyebrows furrow when your ability has no effect. The skin doesn’t disintegrate, nor does it fall apart as usual. “That is my ability, No Longer Human.”

“And that is why I paired you two up.”

You huff a little angrily once you realize. His ability stops other abilities, what triggered it you didn’t know, but that wasn’t the most important thing for you. He paired you two up to have him be your control. You don’t need anyone to control you and you don’t want anyone to control you. You want to do you and you do not want this boy to hold you back.

You open your mouth to protest but Mori interrupts you. “This is my decision and mine alone, you cannot say otherwise.” As much as you want to mess up his pretty face, you couldn’t disobey the boss.

“Fine.”

As time grew on, Dazai had become a friend, though sometimes he felt like more than a friend. Despite your early refusal to the idea, you’d really warmed up to each other.

Dazai, the young bastard, was also quite the prick at times. Though you couldn’t really complain about his age since it turns out you’re within the same age range. While he was a prick, he was also caring, as you’d come to learn.

Sometimes he’d hold your forearm when you were touching something, even though over the years you’d built up the habit to not use your middle finger. Every time he did so you would laugh and it would somewhat fluster you, you’d tell him you didn’t need it and without fail he would say “Just in case.” It was nice to know he cared, and the other little gestures he would perform were even nicer.

You were known for being a little sadistic, taking joy from inflicting pain for no reason. When he’d hold you back from attacking some random lackey at the time it would make you angry, but a few minutes later you’d be grateful for it. After all, that lackey wouldn’t be very useful with an injury.

Though sometimes even he couldn’t hold you back. When you’d start a fight with another executive just for your enjoyment, he was quick to be there and keep you in touch. Perhaps you did need control after all.

The other executives were rather thankful for Dazai, as you chose someone to pick on every week. Something you hated about Dazai was that he was immune to your mockery. He got used to it from your partnership and he couldn’t be hurt by your ability. But you supposed it was for the better, the other executives were starting to get really annoyed by you.

Except everything changed when Nakahara came along.

Although your partnership was relatively new, you found comfort in each other’s companies. You protected each other’s weaknesses and complemented each other’s strengths; so when the news came along that Chūya would replace you as Dazai’s partner, both of you were a little ticked off, per say.

Dazai’s first impression on the newer rookie didn’t help their relationship. Chūya annoyed him to the very ends of the Earth and he did not want him to replace you. It wasn’t just Chūya either, he’d grown very fond of you. Sometimes he couldn’t even fight without you; He was used to you being there to back him up, though this detail he would not tell you.

In time, you didn’t look like the monster he’d thought you were in his first impression of you. You actually looked sweet.

Your smile, which for everybody else would be sadistic, turned out to look more endearing to him. Everybody caught onto the fact that the smiles you’d directed at him weren’t the smiles he’d show others. Somehow you hadn’t realized it, but he had.

You’d grown to like him, dare say crush on him, which was something you denied. His triumphant smile after the end of a mission and the jokes he’d make as you fought were always the highlight of your day.

None of you wanted to give up the other.

“This is his decision and his alone, we cannot say otherwise.” You mocked, making Dazai snicker. The fact he used the same words was quite ironic, really.

Tomorrow marked Chūya and his first mission together, so you’d dedicated this day to each other. Dazai did not look forward to tomorrow, and as much as he wanted to vent to you about Chūya’s very abundant annoying qualities, you’d both promised not to talk about it.

The news of your separation had made both of you realize your growing crushes for each other. You were no longer in denial, though you loathed the idea… but when you really thought about it, you didn’t loathe the idea. Musing to yourself about hugging him, playing with his hair… thinking about the fact that you did in fact like it made you gag.

As the night neared to an end, your guts told you to tell him. You wouldn’t see each other all that often anyway and if you were never to interact much, at least you would be getting this off your chest.

“Dazai.” You both stared out the window of the HQ, prior to you speaking up you were in an awkward silence. None of you wanted to say goodbye.

He turned to you and you to him. As much as you wanted to avoid eye contact, you thought it might help. “I like you… don’t joke with me.”

Dazai was going to make a joke. It was amazing how much you got to know him in so little time. He smiled, and your hopes raised when you took notice of how it wasn’t pitiful. “I like you too.”

You immediately let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Where’s the big sadistic lion?” Dazai questions, playfully mocking how meek you are right now. His smile seems more joyful than usual, as it should with what just happened.

You snicker, giving him the sadistic smile he’s used to. “I’m right here.”

Dazai was your anchor in the Port Mafia, even when he plead for double suicide with you. Before you were partnered up, you absolutely despised the place. The other executives and the occasional lackeys were fun to provoke but it was almost as if that was your coping mechanism. You often complained about how awful the Mafia was handled with the previous boss, but he would never change anything. He was an idiot up until his very death.

You thought Mori’s recent ‘crowning’ would change your opinion, but it didn’t change it at all. You still hated the place. It was almost as if their only objective was to keep their hands on Yokohama. You wanted more than that, you wanted the whole of Japan to be your turf.

Mori didn’t want that and while he would take the opportunity once presented, he wouldn’t do a thing otherwise. He was perfectly happy with that and you weren’t.

Dazai was the only reason you stayed, but now the reason had been diminishing. You barely spoke and barely hung out. This wasn’t what ‘dating’ was and both of you knew it.

He wanted to try harder and so did you, but with your current situation, you couldn’t. When he wasn’t with Chūya, you were out on a mission. No, you weren’t jealous. This wasn’t Chūya’s fault nor was it something either of you could control. There were various times you debated on breaking up.

Dazai was the only thing holding you back from leaving, so if you broke up you didn’t have to worry about him. But you liked him and both of you would be heartbroken. You never liked thinking about it, but someday, it had to be addressed. That day never came.

The final day you were with the Port Mafia was the day that you had a brush with death.

You’d called for backup, you’d received none. The henchmen you were commanding left like cowards. To think these were the people you’d trained.

One of your big weaknesses was fighting groups of people alone. These henchmen knew that and they’d run. Where were their morals? Where was their faith, their loyalty? Where was their honor, their pride? It was then that you’d learned the Port Mafia wasn’t your place. These people weren’t your people, this turf wasn’t your turf. They were cowards and you were no coward.

Alone and fighting recklessly, you were down. You refused to flee, and that stubbornness was what caused you to nearly die. Luckily, you never crossed death’s doorstep. The people you were fighting presumed you dead the moment you dropped to the ground.

They were fools but a fool you were too to let your emotions get the best of you.

That day somebody had found you on the brisk of death. They claimed to be a spy and they offered to get you help.

Of course, you accept without asking for conditions. You were dying, what else could you have said? The conditions turned out to be joining his organization and feeding them with information or something equally as important.

No longer would you be associated with the Port Mafia. You were glad to leave them. But your only consequence being leaving behind Dazai, the love of your life and the highlight of the day. It was a hard decision to make that was for sure, but it was either this or death.

You felt selfish.

Months after joining them, the so-called ‘Guild’, your heart ached. Leaving Dazai was your biggest mistake but joining the Guild was the best thing that had happened to you since him. For the longest time, you’d wanted to tell him. You never had the guts to. And then you left Japan to join the bigger part of the guild in North America.

In time you’d stopped thinking about Dazai.

The crew was polite, a contrast from the cold lackeys and executives from the Port Mafia. It’s a nice change, one you wish won’t ever change. But maybe the hope of a different life blinds you from how bad these people really are, their underlying motives and morals, their similarities to the Port Mafia executives.

The guild is ambitious, their leader most of all. They have a turf and the turf is way bigger than the Port Mafia’s, something you’re proud about. You certainly feel better about this place than the Port Mafia.

Your sadistic personality never changes either, and while the others are certainly annoyed by it, they handle it in a different way. They make sure you know that you can’t hurt them severely, or there’ll be repercussions. Maybe not repercussions from the Guild’s rules, but them hurting you back. It’s a nice change, one that gets your adrenaline pumping every time you pick a fight.

The only time you did think of him was in your nightmares, the middle of the night. Those nightmares consisted of him calling you a traitor, betrayer, but that wasn’t what hurt you. They played out scenarios of you telling Dazai.

He’d kiss you, hold you tight, ask you where you’d been, question the new stitches and scars… and then you’d tell him.

His face would be ridden with denial. “No. No you couldn’t have! You’re joking, you’re lying!” He laughs, tries to believe it’s a joke, but he can’t get it out of his head that it isn’t.

“It’s not.”

It’s then that he lets out a sob. He trembles, pushes you away from him, looks you in the eye with a look full of betrayal. It’s then that he calls you names, which stated before aren’t what hurts you. It’s how he looks and what he says next that hurts the most, “I thought you loved me.”

That’s when the nightmare ends. You wake up with tears of your own, they’re hot and sting on your cheeks. You furiously wipe them away, but more keep coming.

You sob loudly, which wakes up John and Lucy. They’re the only ones you’ve trusted with your secret, Dazai. They comfort you the best they can but the most they can do is tell you it’s going to be okay or something along those lines. As much as you try to believe them, you can’t.

Dazai becomes a mere figure of your past. You think of him as unreachable, unattainable, as something you should scold yourself for thinking about.

If you could’ve taken him with you, you would’ve.

Learning that you will go back to Japan because of the leader’s obsession with a ‘tiger’ almost breaks you like your ability would.

You hadn’t thought about Dazai nightmares in the past year, but now you remember him again. You begin to regret leaving him, your heart aches again and your nightmares act up again. Everything gets worse when you arrive in Japan.

War breaks out between 3 organizations but the only thing you can think of is the Port Mafia. It’d been 6 years. Could he still remember you?

You don’t care who wins, you just want this whole thing to be over with. It upsets your ‘teammates’, but you don’t care. Once again, you think about leaving the organization, maybe live a normal life. That sort of life feels far-fetched right now and you know it’s something you’ll never have the chance to achieve. But still, you hope for it.

But then you see him again.

The second your eyes land on him you want to run. His eyes land on you and they must look the same as yours.

It hurts, but you have to persevere. “Hey, Lovecraft?” You glance at the man with the strange ability and appearance. “You want to go sleep, right?” You let out a mocking yawn of your own, giving the two in front of you your signature sickly smile.

“Yes.” Lovecraft replies, voice monotone and deep as always.

“Go get John and leave, get to sleep faster.” You nod in the direction you’d seen Chūya knock John towards. Your eyes stayed on the two in front of you. They both act as if they’d never seen you before, which you’re glad for. You don’t know if you could’ve handled seeing the same look Dazai would give you in your nightmares.

“But Francis and... you.” You’d like to think you’d gotten close to Lovecraft, but really he treated everybody the same because of his ‘contract’ with Francis.

“I’ll be fine. I know these guys’ weaknesses, anyway.” He doesn’t question how you do nor does he protest further and leaves immediately. “Quite the reunion, huh?”

“(y/n)..” Chūya growls. He glares at you, something you’d never seen 6 years ago as his senior executive. He never dared to interact with you. He knew he’d be replacing you as Dazai’s partner and knew about your relationship together. If anything, it was out of pity, and that you hated.

“Chūya.” You reply. “How’s the family, the mafia, the kids?” You mock. Chūya all but seethes, he looks like he’s ready to strike.

“(y/n),” Once Lovecraft is gone, Dazai gives you the look you dreaded to see. “H-How--” He doesn’t know what to say and neither do you. Your smile fades, turns into a frown. You don’t want to fight him but you also don’t want him to take on Lovecraft. As much as you liked the guy, he was a nightmare incarnate.

“Dazai.” Is all that you say. The vague response hurts you both.

“Chūya you might want to do that here.”

Chūya looks back at Dazai, shocked and taken aback. “You want me to do that? Dazai, I don’t think that’s needed and you know how shit that makes me feel.” It’s clear he doesn’t want to give into his corruption.

“You shouldn’t underestimate him.” Dazai speaks with experience, and it hurts you to know that he knows that.

“Don’t hurt him too much, we’re dating.”

“You’re still dating?!”

“Technically we never broke up!”

You laugh, staring at the limp body next to you. Chūya is deep asleep, or knocked out, you don’t know. You never really saw the aftermath of his corruption.

“That was a nice fight.” You remark, loud enough for Dazai to hear despite how weak you feel. Chūya had basically broken both your legs and injured you, but at least he hadn’t killed you or put you into a coma. The pain was unbearable for most people, but it was a simple background thought for you.

“It’s been…” Dazai starts.

“6 years.” You finish for him.

“I missed you.” You’re glad to hear that instead of the words from your nightmares, but you’re sure those words will eventually come.

“I did too.”

“You did?”

You sigh, nodding. “There were plenty of errands I had to run around and do for Francis. That rich old guy didn’t do anything himself. I didn’t think much of you, but I never forgot you. I had my own fair share of nightmares about you, they’re all the same.”

Dazai moves you to lean against the bark of a tree. You look into each other’s eyes, and you can tell that his are pleading. “Please stay.”

You ignore his remark, weakly reaching over to feel his coat. “New coat?”

“Yes.” Dazai grumbles, sitting down next to you cross legged. “Answer me.” He pleads again.

“You don’t want to know why I left, first?” Dazai shakes his head, taking your hand in his and squeezing it, prompting a pained groan from you. He quickly apologizes for it.

“I don’t know if I can.” You sigh, rubbing the back of his hand. You were quite touch starved, seeing as you couldn't really hold or touch anything properly. “If Francis wins I’d have to stay with him. If either of you win, I’ll most likely end up in prison.”

“Join me.”

You think back to the Guild. They were inviting and you thought them to be good, but just then did you think about how bad they really were. You’d known all along but you always refused to believe it. You wanted to be there just to escape the Mafia, you never wanted to be there because it was the guild.

“What was it… the Armed Detective Agency?” He nods. “How would that stop me from going to prison?”

“I don’t know.” Dazai admits with a huff. “Just.. please stay.”

“Okay.” You smile at him. Dazai remembers that smile, it’s burned into his memory and he takes note of how it hasn’t changed a bit. He’s missed it ever since you left. “Would they accept me, though?”

“They will, they will.” He says it as if he were determined, but he knows there’s a high chance they’ll refuse.

Dazai pulls you into a much deserved kiss. Long, gentle, sweet, and full of fireworks, it’s almost like your first. The only thing is it’s a little weak on your end, but he can’t blame you.

“Not going to mention sucide?”

“I haven’t seen you in 6 years, at least let me cherish this for another 2 months.”

#anonymousrequest #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x male reader #dazai x reader #dazai x male reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x male reader #bsd x male reader #angst fic #bsd angst

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