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avidfics · 2 years

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Meeting Vi Pt. 2

Author’s Note: Hi guys. I’m pumped that so many enjoyed Meeting Vi so I decided to make a part 2. You don't have to read Pt 1 to read this post but here's the link anyway. Hope you enjoy it.

Summary: It’s now been a month since your testy first encounter with Vi and since then your friendship has been doing good…too good. The chemistry between you both is electric however you are hesitant about giving into it because of how it might ruin your friendship.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Cursing, sexual content

“Oh, this is just freaking great.” Thick smoke hung in the air and found its way into your lungs. You frantically waved a couch pillow at the smoke detector even as hard coughs rattled your body. Your entire profession was centered around using a stove and yet you somehow forgot the thing was on before you decided to hop in the shower.

At least your kitten didn’t wake up from her nap. The little black furball managed to sleep through the entire scare, which maybe should be concerning. However, she was probably just getting her power nap in before her archnemesis, Jinx, came here in a few minutes. For some unexplainable reason, your kitten found no greater delight than hissing and making circles around Jinx as if they were intense rivals in a past life.

Yet, despite their strife, Jinx was coming to deliver food for your kitten and pick up some of the gadgets she always leaves behind in the most random places. You just hoped Jinx would be a bit late to give you time to air out the room.

You’re still flapping a couch cushion in the air at your kitchen smoke alarm when a hard knock comes from the flimsy front door.

“Crap.” You scramble to replace the cushions. There was still some baking you had to do for some clients and there was no way you’d make any progression with Jinx around. Sure you two always had a blast together but it was never productive.

The succession of knocks became more persistent. “Jinx, hold on!” You call out. “Don’t you dare blow up my door!” That black grit was still on your doorframe from the last time.

Your hair is in complete disarray and you’re out of breath by the time you fling the door open to see, not the 5’4 blue-haired menace, but the hoodie-clad vision of her sister, Vi, instead.

Vi’s infamous slow grin has your heart committing a marathon.

“Nice look, cupcake-”

You slam the door in her face.

“Absolutely not.” You think to yourself.

You weren’t prepared to see Vi today. You pressed your eyes closed in hope that when you opened them Vi would be gone, but instead, all you think about was this past month. After your first tense meet with Vi, when she basically accused you of being a bad influence on Jinx while also injuring your ankle, as if Jinx could be influenced by anyone, Vi spent the month apologizing by aiding your recovery. She was now a constant fixture at your bakery and your home. It’s been pure torture.

Vi had a way of dominating your every waking thought until you couldn’t escape her smile no matter what you were doing. Thoughts of her hid in every nook and cranny. And, even now, you still wanted more.

Everything about this was a big problem. Friends weren’t supposed to crave each other’s attention and touch to this degree. And you were trying! You would be cool and relaxed and then VI would pop up at your bakery and spin you around in a hug. Or the two of you would be chilling on your couch…as friends. And then she would complain about the cold air and snuggle you like a freaking koala. And lords above, last week, when Vi had been too tipsy to walk home and climbed into your bed instead, once she was knocked out, not a minute later her heavy arm wrapped around your torso and her leg nestled its way between your thighs. You couldn’t close your eyes without imagining her holding you down to the mattress and replacing her leg with her fingers.

You had to sing the national anthem ten times just to not lose your mind.

But that wasn’t what you wanted. Well, honestly, you did want the toe-curling sex (oh it definitely would be good). Vi hasn’t even told you she had feelings for you so why were you jumping to conclusions. And even if a night of cuddling led to something more physical, did you want that if made you another one of Vi’s casual flings?

A few taps at the door make you jump. “You got a hot date in there, cupcake? Or are you just happy to see me?” Vi asks through the door.

“Hi, Vi.” You repeatedly bang your head against the door. “It’s good to see you.”

Vi chuckles lightly, voice laden with doubt. “Same to you, cupcake, all two seconds of me seeing you.” A teeny tiny smile escapes. “Jinx asked me to bring this cat food over. She said you’d be fine with it.” Sneaky Jinx; however, ‘fine’ is definitely a word you’d use to describe the boxer on the other side of the door.

“So are you going to let me in anytime this year or do I have to break in through your bedroom window?”

You couldn't handle her being anywhere near your bedroom with the lewd thoughts you were having.

“Can you leave the food outside the door? I can’t let you in because, Uhm, I have a bad cold.” You let out a few theatrical coughs.

After an empty pause, you quietly look through the door’s peephole. Vi had left your door and was leaning against the adjacent wall, arms crossed over her chest, and a hard frown marking her frustration. “Sweetheart, if you have some fucktoy hiding in there just say that.”

She must be joking. When would you have the chance to mess around with anyone else when this pink-hair woman was all you could think about for the last month?

“Vi, you’re being ridiculous. Can’t you just trust that I have a really good reason for not letting you in?”

You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until she finally looks up and zero ins on the door, walking back up to the door. Her intensity makes you want to back away, but you hold your ground. Both her arms come up to brace against the doorframe. So close it feels intimate as if the door isn’t there and she’s crowding around you. If you closed your eyes, it would feel like the door wasn’t even between you two.

Her head hangs low, eyes were hidden. “I do trust you. We also don’t keep secrets. So can you humor me and open the door, Y/N?”

Fudge.

You open the door. Vi’s arms still brace the frame. Her black hoodie was unzipped, and peaking through was just a sports bra. You can't help but bite your lip at the view of her toned abs and chest that had a light sheen of sweat.

“If you laugh I’ll make my kitten bite you.” You threaten as you begrudgingly bring her inside. As soon as she passes the foyer and steps into the kitchen, rough coughs have her doubling over.

“What-” cough cough “the hell happened?” the bag of cat food hits the flood with a thud as she covers her mouth.

“I might’ve burned something on the stove.” You mumbled.

“Seriously? You were embarrassed and didn’t want to let me in because you burned some food? It’s not like you burned water.”

You let out a loud groan and slam your head against the fridge.

“Oh shit, really?” And the evil traitor doesn’t even try to hide her laughter.

“It wasn’t water! It was roman noodles.” You mutter into the fridge, wallowing in your shame.

Vi still finds the situation hilarious. Chuckling as she circles the counter to wrap her arms around you. Her head rests against your shoulder. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Vi, what if I had set the place on fire? Everyone would only know me as the baker that burnt her own apartment complex.” Against your better judgment, you return Vi’s hug and snuggle deeper in her embrace. “My rep would’ve been more toasted than the bottom of that pan.”

A hard shudder passes through your body as Vi’s rough hands rub your arms. “Don’t worry, you can be my personal baker complete with a skimpy uniform and sweets at my beck and call. Speaking of, got anything I can snack on? Begging for entrance outside your door has made me hungry.”

You squirm away from Vi’s arms and walk to the stove just to stop the buzzing happening between your close proximity. Even though wearing a skimpy apron at Vi’s place did send a wave of warm fuzzies through your body, friends didn’t want to breathe in each other’s smell when hugging. That was probably a no-no.

“Oh, now you want to eat my desserts after you blamed my food for making you sluggish before your last match?” You still rolled your eyes at the ridiculous idea.

“I mean your desserts are definitely to blame.” Once again, that hated frown appears between her brows as she sits on a stool on the opposite side of the kitchen island. Her head resting on her fist. “Plus, you being a chatterbox with the people in the stands sure didn’t help my concentration in the match.”

The jab was so unexpected that you almost dropped the butter knife into the pie you were cutting. You could feel Vi’s blatant stare burning into your back but you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing your confusion.

But Vi doesn’t give you the chance to reply as she mumbles about your apparent “distraction” at her last fight.

“Y/N you were my guest, but from what I saw from the ring, your attention was centered on the guy next to you.”

A guy? Your attention to men or women had damn near disappeared since Vi slammed her way into your life like a 5’9 battling ram.

By the time you’re done slicing her pie, you were feeling less than hospitable. You slammed the plate down in front of Vi and stuck a metal fork in its crust with a bit more force than necessary.

“Vi, I could go into a whole spiel explaining what that guy and I were laughing about at your match, but I don’t freaking feel like it. But I would love to know why you’re so pressed about some random playboy with muscles. Why are we even arguing over him?” More than anything you needed this conversation to end before you started to speculate why Vi was so attentive to your conversation with him. Or before something is said that was irreversible.

Your frustration by the turn of this conversation is noticeable as you impatiently wait for Vi to say something in response. But she doesn’t. She just keeps eating that damn pie. Usually, she eats with hast as if she’s being timed but today, it’s slow. Like she’s toying with you. And it freaking works. Your attention spaces out only to focus on the trail of the metal fork she scoops with pie and slips in her mouth. Your breathing drags as the fork slides from Vi’s plump lips. Your eyes flick up to Vi’s. Her gray mischievous eyes are teasing and heated. A dangerous smile stretches over her mouth as she proceeds to leisurely lick the fork clean.

The “only friends” train was running out of track.

But Vi doesn’t seem to give a damn as she rises off the stool, plate in hand, and stalks toward you around the counter. Every logical brain cell was screaming at you to walk away. But the pull to stay still kept you frozen in place. It felt wrong to walk away from the boxer as she cornered you against your own counter.

“You’re absolutely right, cupcake. I don’t want to talk about that fucking asshole. I don’t want to hear you talk about that fucking ‘playboy with muscles’. I want your full attention. You want muscles? Done. Humour? I’ll have your sides hurting.” Vi keeps pressing you against the counter. In an ill attempt to escape, you make a move to flee. But Vi’s hands snap to your waist, holding you where she wants you. “And cupcake, if you want a causal fucktoy?” You feel her toned thigh pry between your legs, hitting a delicious spot through your leggings. A low moan escapes your throat as you fall forward on her chest. “I’ll let you see stars.”

You want to tell her ‘casual’ is not what your want, but it felt too good. Her hands give a frantic squeeze around your hips, then move up to the nape of your head. Pulling your head back to give access to your exposed throat as if it’s hers to play with. You squeeze your eyes shut as her lips graze your collarbone, seeking unspoken permission.

“You’ll let me, right Y/N?” the soft words hit your skin with a promise of satisfaction.

A whimper is all you can give. Your inexperience was not playing in your favor at the moment. The burning need between your thighs was turning all logical thinking into mush.

“Vi, I-I-I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” You pant.

Vi’s warm breath puffs against your neck as she chuckles darkly. “Oh, I plan on getting very friendly.” Her teeth nip your ear, inflicting just a sliver of pain before pecking apology kisses up and down your throat column.

Your body is in warfare, grasping Vi’s hard biceps to push away while also pulling her closer, needing to feel her breast rub against yours.

More than anything you wish you had fewer layers between your body and Vi’s. It’s almost embarrassing how wet your pussy gets. But it made rubbing against Vi’s thigh delicious torture.

“Shit, Y/N.” She painfully groans. “ if you keep fucking your pussy on my thigh I’m going to lose my mind.” Vi’s hands on your nape slide down your back and possessively grips your ass. With a grunt, she hoists you up higher on her thigh, and immediately you can feel the difference in your clit. You can no longer keep it in and a cry is pulled from you.

The tortuous new angle has you close to begging for any and everything. Friends be damn.

Vi thrusts her thigh faster, helping you reach the peak. “Open your eyes.” Vi commands and you easily comply in a heated daze. Vaguely you see her dip her finger dip in the blueberry syrup on the discarded plate. Her rough finger gently smears it across your parted lips. Her eyes are heated as she sucks on the same finger she rubbed against your lips.

A salacious smile blinds you as you still chase the climax that’s on the tip of your tongue. “This is the best fucking pie I’ve had in my life.” She said before slamming her lips against yours. You’re finally kissing Vi and it’s heavenly. Her lips guide yours, slowly moving against yours. The feel of her lips feels so right you wonder why you guys didn't make out during all those movie nights. Her hands remain squeezing your ass as she devours your lips. Her lips are just what you needed to have you at fever pitch.

Vi finally releases your lips when it’s apparent your not breathing. “I could kiss you forever.”

The “forever” word is like a bucket of cold water because this wasn’t permanent, this was all casual for Vi. Vi leans back down to press a kiss to your cheek but you dodge it. She notices your shift in mood and gives you an inch of space. Her hand cups your jaw. “Woah, what happened? Did I do something wrong?”

You shake her hand away and nervously bite your lip. This time when you squirm away she lets you go. Your heart squeezes at the thought of distancing yourself from Vi, but you need answers. Pacing away from the kitchen and into the foyer, you finally look at Vi who is once again nervously pulling on her short hair. “Vi, I can’t do casual. I wish I could but I just couldn’t handle being casual with you.”

Vi follows you into the foyer. And reaches for your hands. “Y/N trust me, you don’t want to deal with me in a relationship. But I can do this.” She points between the two of you. “We’re good like this.”

She could do this, but you couldn’t. “Vi, I care about our friendship too much to take that kind of risk.”

Vi looked slightly panicked at the finality of your tone, reaching out again, only for you to step back. “You’re not even considering!-” The front door flings open and freaking Jinx casually struts in, dragging a bag of cat food behind her. “Here to feed the angry demon. “She stops short when she sees the two of you.” Did you two fuck?”

You roll your eyes and Vi huffs, storming past you to the door. But before she reaches the door she circles back, pulls you into a hug, and kisses your forehead. “This isn’t over.” She stresses before continuing to storm off and slam the door.

Jinx makes a noise and then goes over to your couch to terrorize your kitten. But you stay frozen, wishing there wasn't a horde of butterflies swarming your stomach and the taste of blueberries still lingering on your lips.

#vi x reader #arcane x reader #vi arcane #vi x y/n

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just-an-enby-lemon · 2 years

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Can Riddler draw?

My personal HC about the multiple incarnations of Ed and his relationship with art.

Frank Gorshing's Riddler: Yes, absolutly! This man is an artist in all possible ways, he can draw, play instruments, act, sing, write, is an exceptional movie director (this one is cannon btw, he is also canonicaly a huge fan of silent movies) . He was born for art. He just choose non-sensical riddle crimes as his art form/carear choice for some - totaly insane - reason.

- This show version of the Joker was also a good drawer and when they were both in a good vibe they would make silly art challenges against each other or make glorious collabs. Some of their art is in Gotham galeries by anonimus names.

- He also does vandalism via graffiti for no reason besides it being ilegal and them added some riddles in it so Batman and Robin could known who did it and where to find him because of course he did.

TAS Riddler: Yep. But he can only make digital art, when drawning with pen and papper he is mediocre, fine at best, but give him a tabblet or any digitalization tool and he is amazing. Ironically he is the only Riddler who isn't an art snob.

- He cares little for drawning and his lack of interest in art unless is for games he is developing can explain why he can only draw digitaly even though it makes zero sense.

- He does make fanarts in his free time just for fun and has done some comissions for other rogues, mostly Harley. He also has very traumatic memorys of making NSFW Batman×Joker fanart and short animations because Joker demanded it and he was to scared to deny.

Jim Carrey Riddler: No. He cannot draw to save his life but he doesn't know it.

- The only person he showed his drawings to was Harvey and he wasn't able to tell the truth and break Ed's heart so he said it was great and very artistic and tried his best to not compare it to a toddler's drawning.

- He has lot of stick figures of what is supposed to be himself and Bruce Wayne holding hands and kissing, but honestly not a single person besides him can tell it's contents cause it's too badly done.

- He is not artistic. Like at all. Except maybe poetry cause the riddles. But besides that he has no artistic skill but he belives he does. Two-Face is a great friend/suporter/boyfriend/partner and lies to him about how good he is to not break his heart.

2004 The Batman cartoon Riddler: More or less. He was a good drawer before becoming The Riddler, but he is very out pratice now days and can only make skulls. He does very good skulls, but he just forgot how to do proportions outside skulls. He also hates coloring and cannot paint inside the lines.

- He could go back to being a god artist if he ever tried to resharpen his skills, but Julia was the only person he let see his drawings back then and trauma is a bitch.

- He draws skulls everywhere cause he is just that emo. He has skulls and stylish question marks in every piece of papper he ever recieved. That and some green day and mcr lyrics.

- He is a great musician though. Mostly a guitar player. He even played in the Lounge once. Unfortunally Oswad was the only hardcore punk fan at the rich people gala night so it didn't stick.

Gotham Series Riddler: No and he hates it. He has all other artistic tallents possible: great musician, does amazing sculptures, fantastic actor, number one photographer... But he can't draw.

- He get's very pissy if anyone is drawing in front of him. He cannot understand why one artistic talent scaped him. He is specially annoyed when he discovers that Oswald can draw, Oswald who couldn't give less of a shit about art, is unable to name more than one painter and would not recognize a forgery if it singed about being fake, can draw and he can't. He can make origami for god's sake. Why is the universe so cruel?

- After their reunion in the last episode he finally acepts to let Oswald teach him how to draw. He is annoyed at it and keeps mentioning all his numerous hability's Os doesn't have, but in the end he is very thankfull.

- He is still an art snob. A very annoying art snob.

Lego Riddler: No. No one in that universe can draw it is impossible to do it with Lego hands, shut up.

Arkhamverse Riddler: Yes. He can also sculpture very well. Unfortunally he is a very obcessive man and does little to his skill besides making prototypes for his trophies and very offesive Batman themed art. He also draws some of his sleep paralisis demons and trauma induced visions cause why not?

- Some times he draws some shit randomically when he is very sleep deprived. Most times he ends with some very good horror art and he has no idea where did this come from, why he did it or what to do with it. Seriusly this man needs help.

- He does cringy drawings of himself but like buffer and stronger and better. He also does some self insert art. And has some cringy self-insert OC's.

Rogues! Podcast Riddler: He can draw. He is very smug about it. Isufferably so. Like soo smug.

- He does weird fanart with the sole purpose to create online chaos, like amazing art of that ship the fandom despises or NSFW of otherwise cute cartoon characters (no kid characthers though) or creppy very detailed humanoid versions of real things and sometimes he does creppypasta art. He never signs this pieces. It's not the point. He wants to see the internet go crazy.

- When he does post a signed art he is very clear about hating when people repost it without credits and has send very powerfull computer virus for users who stole his art.

- He does comissions under a fake name on Tumblr and Twitter.

Paul Dano Riddler: No. His drawning skills are average. He sometimes does some surpisingly amazing art and sometimes he does some toddler level drawing. There is no reason behind it. Maybe if he trained he would be an actual good artist but he is too busy being traumatized and playing Zodiac Killer crossover.

- He did a lot of fanart of the Batman. Some good, some bad. Mostly average. All have a lot of religon simbolism and are very homoerotic.

Batman Unburied Riddler: Yes. Of all Riddlers he is the one more in touch with the artist vibes, and besides being very good in writing (all types not only riddles and poetry) he is a great painter and can draw very well.

- He likes reading art books and draws in the margins of most of them.

- His trademark drawings besides stylish question marks are comunist symbols. He also does chibi Batman and after the Harvest case chibi angry Barbara.

- His drawnings are mostly casual things he does whe bored, doddles in the margin of books or random napkins at restaurants or tabbles. He particualry likes to make small doddles to acompany his wrote riddles.

- He loves art in all forms and is a huuge art nerd. Probably the biggest one.

[I won't mention comic versions of Riddler cause there's too many and I want to go to sleep if possible]

#riddler #edward nygma #headcannons #some headcanons #riddler headcanon #art #can they draw

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lolibles · 3 years

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playing video games with them| anemo boys <3

characters: kazuha, xiao and venti

very fluffy, a little suggestive in kazuha’s part, slight slight angst for xiao, crack

synopsis: what games you play with them, how they act with you!

not proofread please don’t sue me this is also very random :)

kazuha

playing stardew valley and animal crossing with kazuha is my life goal that will never be fulfilled please cry with me. anyway, just imagine cuddling on the sofa under a thick blanket on a cold rainy day with cups of hot chocolate or tea whilst playing stardew valley. the both of you work through the first year slowly as little farmers doing cute little farm things. also if you ever chose to get into a relationship with any of the npcs in the game kazuha will not be happy, he’d definitely not talk to that particular npc because he is now kazuha’s “sworn enemy”. he will also be a pouty baby, so please apologise and give him kisses. and if you REALLY want to make it up to him, ask him to marry you in animal crossing and this man will be on his knees in a split second. he’d prepare EVERYTHING, from the venue, the guests, he’d even attempt to design his own tux for his little character to wear. and you guys would have such an adorable animal crossing wedding. also because kissing in game is not enough, he’d probably kiss you irl when the wedding officiant says you may now kiss the xx. honestly i see kazuha even going out spontaneously to buy you a promise ring with a little maple leaf engraved in it for you. yes it was an animal crossing wedding, but it was a wedding non the less. playing minecraft with kazuha please, its so fucking wholesome- he’s so good at the game and he doesn’t even try. he knows all the tricks and he’s so sexy with redstone you cant convince me otherwise. he’s also an amazing builder pls wtf. AND OH MY GOD, imagine playing the sims4 with kazuha, he’d literally cry inside. you both would sit next to each other in front of the computer screen for hours just designing your characters. and you would have a little cat too. everytime kazuha’s character flirted with yours, he will definitely shoot you one of his romantic haikus. also the first time your characters woohoo’ed, he most likely would have teased you and said “its unfair that only they get to woohoo you know.” anyway i think playing wholesome games with kazuha is 10 bells out of 10 bells.

xiao

now this one is kinda scary. i think its pretty obvious that xiao plays shooter games honestly. or anything that has to do with fighting. it wasn’t unusual to hear him literally SCREAM randomly throughout the day because of a game. if you ever play shooter games with this aggressive boy, please proceed with caution. i honestly feel like he would be so caught up in the heat of the moment he’d actually forget he was playing with you. so if he ends up getting angry, please bare with him- he honestly doesn’t mean to call you bad, or useless, or trash… I SWEAR. xiao will immediately regret his words and he’d feel so bad. especially after he notices how your mood just instantly dies. he’d feel so bad, even after he apologised and you forgave him, he can’t accept the fact that he just called you- the love of his life something so vulgar. and since he’s so awkward and bad with people he’d literally feel like crying on the spot. he wouldn’t know what to do to make it up to you. the next few days, xiao was so cautious around you- even if you didn’t think much about the incident anymore. in the end even xiao was unable to stay away from you for too long, and he’d ask you to watch him play games instead- which you happily agreed to. he loves it when you straddle him while he sits in his chair while gaming though he’d never admit it. but whenever you felt him get tense, all you had to do was give him a kiss and you just knew he’d calm down. you literally work magic on him. also occasionally you’d hear some idiots in his party talking shit about him, you wouldn’t think twice before speaking into the microphone and start standing up for him, and your grip around his waist would definitely tighten a lot more. “if i ever hear you talking shit about MY boyfriend one more time, i will literally come in game and beat the absolute fuck out of you.” yassss girlboss! xiao’s heart would explode and his face would be beat red, he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. also he thinks your so sexy standing up for him like that, please don’t tease him about it. i rate him a “please dont scold me im trying my best” out of “FUCK YOU SUCKKKKKK”

venti

oh my god, horror games. he hates them but he can’t stop. playing phasmophobia with him would be incredibly fun, but he would make you do all the work literally. he’d be too scared to do anything- and if you ever got caught with the ghost you’d be stupid to think he’d try to save you. he would be the first one out the door and running away. he’s also so loud, your honestly more likely to get jump scared by his screaming than the actual game. other than that i think venti likes to play the sims4 too, except he’s so chaotic about it. he wants to do challenges and he also wants to make like 10 babies with you even if your sims can’t afford them- cries when they are taken away. has all the packs and just enjoys fucking around with everything- also makes bets with you, like whether your baby is going to be a boy or girl, and if you lose you owe him a kiss or he asks you to do something for him. when he plays with you, he needs to be touching your body at all times. he says it makes him feel safe, and warm. so you just let him. venti also wants to play karaoke games with you, he loves your voice so much- whether you can sing or not he loves it. but he will tease you if you cant. he loves duetting with you, to him it’s something very intimate and close to home. he wants to hold your hand and give them a squeeze as an encouragement when you sing with him. and yes you guys probably have played just dance a few times, but venti gets incredibly tired after one round- so please bare with his annoying ass. i think venti is a solid 8 red bulls out of “ive already drank 15”

guys i was supposed to include aether but his part disappeared and i- </3 i’ll have to rewrite and upload it in a second part!! heh sorry for being gone for so long, anyway i have my presentations tomorrow, a test on thursday and another presentation on friday ;-; wish me luck! ill be back writing in a few days while i suffer rn sghshshsh

also @truegaypotat my love here is some xiao content <3

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wonlouvre · 3 years

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Yayyy i absolutely love your writing!!

I would like to request a Hoshi × gn!idol! Reader angst+fluff imagine where Soonyoung cheers/takes care of his reserved s/o who has been having a hard time and has opened up to him about it for the first time. S/o is someone who can't say no easily and because of that their workload had increased a lot. But in the end they can't hold themselves any longer and breaks down.

strength | k. sy.

pairing: hoshi x gn!idol reader genre: fluff, angst, then fluff again warnings: mentions of anxiety, physical and mental tiredness (please tell me if i missed anything!) word count: 1.8k+ (i honestly don’t even know anymore)

💌: thank you very much for requesting! i made some tweaks here and there and i hope you still like it! thank you for loving my writing as well :’( it really means a lot that <3 i hope you like this!

Soonyoung was aware that you’d be coming from Japan for your collaborative magazine photoshoot. He just didn’t know that you’d be going straight from the airport at four o’clock in the morning.

He thought he read your message wrong saying that you’re on your way to the assigned shooting location. As far as he’s concerned, the call time was at seven a.m. He had to do a double take while squinting his eyes over the brightness of his phone but when he saw another bubble pop out saying you’re already there, he immediately jumped off his bed to shower.

He misses you. You’ve been going in and out of the country because of promotions and the chances of getting to see you has been slim to none. If he ever meets with you, it will be short because either one of you has to go back to work or has to go back to bed because there is a flight to catch the next day. It’s obviously tough. But your relationship perseveres.

Soonyoung will do everything to make it work and you are together with him on that. So if it means he has to shower half-asleep and wear his boxers backwards just to see you, he’d never mind.

Your Japanese album tour started and ended successfully but work didn’t stop from there. You were just getting started. Before leaving the said country, you were fully booked for live television performances, interviews, variety shows and the like. It was exhausting but, it was an opportunity that you couldn’t miss out on for the world even if you wanted to.

Soonyoung is proud of you and he will always be. Heart eyes were formed whenever he got the chance to watch your performances whether it be from a paid livestream event or from kind fans sharing and uploading their videos or photos on Twitter or Instagram. He��s even more in love when it’s in person and he gets to watch your performance plus enjoy it with your never failing supportive fans.

However, Soonyoung is also worried because he knows you’re also tired. He knows how fulfilling it is to do what you love the most, but he’s no stranger to the physically and mentally tiring part of it. He wasn’t even surprised to catch you asleep on the couch when he arrived at your dressing room.

Your manager’s eyes brightened when they saw him, quickly standing up from the chair to give him a hug.

“They told me they just need a fifteen minute nap,” they whisper against Soonyoung’s shoulder as he hugs them back. “But we both know they need more than that.”

Soonyoung sadly smiles while his eyes never leave your curled form. He mutters a simple “I’ll take it from here” while your manager excuses themself to buy everyone breakfast.

It’s a challenge to take you into his arms without disturbing your sleep because he doesn’t want that from happening. He just wants to hold you for the remaining time without interruption from other people. He just wants to hold you and share this moment of calm before the lights and camera get into action later.

Soonyoung’s thankful you didn't, although he still felt your lips lightly ghost against his jaw, telling him that you know that he’s here. He brings your legs over his lap while he cradles your head close to his neck. He wishes to lay down, but the couch is too cramped for two bodies so he’d have to settle with this position. He guesses it’s fine with how you deeply inhale his scent and snuggle closer and closer, locking your arms around his waist with no intentions of letting go.

Just like you, he falls asleep, completely comfortable and content in finally having you in his arms again.

Your tangled bodies were shaken to wake up at least an hour later. Both of your managers have food in their hand, ready to energize the two of you up before moving forward with the hair and makeup. The agenda for today includes a photoshoot with several changes of outfit, a short shoot for an audio video presentation and lastly an interview or question and answer of some sort.

Your relationship has been publicly known for two years already. Some fans have been supportive while some have been angry. It’s nothing new and it’s nothing the two of you could care about at this point.

Countless projects have been offered to the two of you during the course of those two years whether it be a song or dance performance, a guesting on a famous variety show and even a three second cameo appearance on a drama. They’re all lovely offers and you would love to participate, but the two of you made a decision to keep the relationship private. Sure, you’ll accept it from time to time. But, it’s still very limited to one to two songs to sing or dance to together and some magazine photoshoots. Just like now.

By far, this is the third time the two of you would be featured on a magazine cover. Your respective publicists already know how to communicate to the publishing company your terms and conditions. Questions about your relationship are allowed, but to a certain number only. The rest will be about what’s mostly seen by fans and the rest of the public which is automatically your music.

The concept is not necessarily daringly romantic. After all, what you’re trying to promote here is the clothes. But your chemistry is maintained with a few fleeting touches here and there. In one shot, you two were holding hands and the other has his arm is loosely wrapped around your neck.

You and Soonyoung are careful to not get lost in each other’s eyes during the short breaks in between because the cameras were still rolling. Although, his soft touches on your hand and arm still lingered. On the other hand, you help him fix his hair whenever he gets excited and jumps from time to time. You could kiss him right now, but again, you want to be careful.

The shoot concluded faster than you thought and the next thing you know, the two of you are sitting side by side with a camera blinking red in front, ready to record the interview included in the contract.

The interview consisted of questions that’s nothing out of the ordinary. The magazine asked about your favorite go-to styles lately, your look inspirations, a little bit of this or that, your recent music releases or favorite music releases at the moment and of course something about your relationship that you're comfortable and willing enough to share.

But one particular question caught you off guard that you had to hold your tears and brave through the rest of the interview without showing any signs that you’re about to cry.

“How have you guys been lately, individually?”

“I’ve been great,” you quickly answer with a smile that didn’t even reach your eyes. The camera may not have noticed, but Soonyoung did. It took a lot of patience and restraint for your boyfriend to stop himself from cutting the interviewer off to ask you again how you really have been.

Everything that was in store for the two of you today ends and when the cameras are gone, you and Soonyoung hand in hand walk back to your dressing room. It’s a relief that this is the last project for the day and you’re glad you could get some rest for the coming week.

Your body slumps on the couch while the staff pack up. You puff out a breath before closing your eyes. You wish you could yell out how tired you are lately. Work piled up over the course of six months and you couldn’t have at least two days away from the makeup and flashing lights.

Soonyoung bites his lower lip as he settles beside you. He’s contemplating whether he should ask you now or later because he doesn’t want you to grow conscious and shut yourself away. He knows how brave and strong you are. But he also wants you to know that you can trust him and that if you ever need a shoulder to cry or at least lean on, his are more than welcoming.

“You okay, babe?” He asks in the quiet as the staff leaves one by one. “Anything bothering you?”

You surprise him by sitting up straight and opening your eyes, welling with tears. That makes him shoot up and instantly hug you close. “Oh baby.”

You finally cry and set free the tears that you’ve been locking deep within you. You thought you could brave through this pain and anxiety without having the need to shed any vulnerability. You thought this shall pass soon. You thought you could do this.

But here you are now letting go with sniffles and shaking shoulders as Soonyoung gently caresses the top of your head.

He hates to see you cry. But it’s only right to let you.

“I just feel like I’m going to miss out on everything if I turn down any project offered to me.”

Soonyoung pouts when he hears what’s been bothering you. It took a while for you to calm down and finally talk, but it’s okay. He doesn’t mind. He will never mind.

“I understand, honey,” he assures you and wipes your tear stained cheek. “And there’s nothing wrong with feeling that way.”

Your lips shake again and crying makes you want to hide. Without hesitation, you crawl to your boyfriend’s lap and wrap your arms around his shoulder. Soonyoung doesn’t complain and just keeps you close, protective arms around your waist.

The dressing room is empty except for the two of you. The staff got the message once Soonyoung pleaded with them through his eyes to give you some time with him since you’re already done for the day.

“It’s also okay to work and work,” he continues, soothing hands rubbing against your back. “But at some point, it’s also okay to take a break for them.”

You pull away and rest your hands on his neck. “Even though I’m going to miss out?”

Soonyoung nods and leans his forehead against yours. “Yes and there’s also nothing wrong with that.”

“I seriously want to go on a trip with my family,” you say and sigh. “And of course, with you too.”

Soonyoung can’t help but giggle. “I’d love to. How about next month? Let’s go somewhere with your family or friends. Where do you want to go? What do you want to do?”

Your boyfriend’s enthusiasm puts a smile on your face and this time, the smile reaches your eyes. “Let’s go somewhere quiet first. I want to take a long nap before we proceed to do anything that needs an awake body.”

“You got it, babe,” Soonyoung promises and kisses your lips.

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spencerreidscoffeecup · 3 years

Text

Comfort Kink

CW: implied sex, heavy petting, fluffy stuff <3, sucking and kissing

AN: hey guys! This is just a cute little thing I wrote a while back! I will be back with more extensive one shots next week as my family is in town this week <33 (someone requested it, sadly i cant figure out exactly who :(( whoever you are, i hope you find this and enjoy!)

Reader's POV:

Contrary to popular belief- or not- Doctor Spencer Reid is a boobs man-- specifically my boobs.

I got the memo of his love for my breasts when we first started dating-- especially when we first had sex. For example, most men and women look or at least glance every so often at another woman's breasts, but Spencer found comfort in mine. Sure, he would get aroused by them, but I think that they were a real comfort thing for him when we would cuddle.

He was able to hold off on his obvious affinity for my breasts until after we announced our love for one another after dating for a few months.

So, the night we admitted our love for each other, Spencer showed his true colors:

"Shit!" I gasped, collapsing onto Spencer's slightly sweaty and heaving chest as I came down from my high.

"Fuck- I love you so much." he panted, kissing the top of my head as I ran my fingers through his hair, trying my best to catch my breath.

I kiss his nose, "I love you too." He smiles softly at that, and I go to lie down next to him on the bed, but he firmly plants his hands on my hips.

"No,"

"What do you mean no?" I giggle softly, laying soft kisses on his neck.

"I mean, that I want to stay inside of you for a little bit longer."

Well, okay.

I blush, heat rising up my neck as butterflies flutter in my belly for about the millionth time that night.

A few moments pass as he drags his fingers up and down my back soothingly, humming in content as I kiss his neck and jaw; combing my hands through his unruly curls on his head, that used to be slicked back, but obviously not anymore.

Eventually, going against Spencer's protests, I pull off of his body, lying down in the bed next to him and pulling the sheets up to cover my breasts until an unsatisfied sound leaves his lips.

"No, keep the sheets down," he whines, pulling the sheets from my chest and down to my waist so my boobs are exposed to him. He brushes his thumbs over my nipples, kissing each of them lightly and smiling bashfully. I can't help but laugh.

"Spence, I think you might love my boobs more than you love me."

"No," Spencer says, looking up at me through his twinkling eyes, immediately kissing my lips. "I just think they are so beautiful-- just like everything else about you."

I smile softly, kissing his lips, then letting him lie his head on my chest; his arms wrapped around my waist, his mouth kissing and sucking on the soft tissue of each breast as he looks practically entranced by them.

I run my fingers through his hair more, and I soon feel my body drift off into sleep as I feel comforted and relaxed by Spencer soft touches on my boobs, lulling me into my slumber.

Next Morning: 9:15 a.m.

The next morning, I awoke to Spencer's hands massaging my breasts as he sucks on them lightly.

At first, I thought he was asleep as his eyes are closed and his breathing is slow and soft, but my theories are debunked when he looks up at me through his eyelashes, unlatching his lips from my pebbled nipple, and kissing his way up my chest, neck, and jaw, then slotting his lips with mine as I smile against his lips.

"'Morning." he murmurs against my lips, peppering small kisses on them before pulling away and tucking some of my hair behind my ears.

"Good morning, love," I whisper, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "What were you doing?"

Spencer's face turns a light blush, nuzzling his head in my neck so he doesn't have to look at me in the eyes.

"Nothing." he responds innocently in a sing-song tone, his voice muffled from his mouth being against my skin, Spencer peppering small kisses on my neck.

"Nothing, huh?" I ask, trying my best to not laugh at how embarrassed he is about this.

"W-well- no, I was just admiring you is all."

"Spence," I ask, and he hums in acknowledgement. "I don't mind that you love my boobs, you know that right?"

Spencer pulls away from my neck, a small pink blush still kissing his cheeks.

God he's so fucking adorable.

"Really?" he seems surprised, as though I would reprimand him for showing his love and affection towards me.

"Of course, I love it." I respond honestly, and Spencer's eyes instantly are full with an incredible amount of love-- more than usual which I didn't even think was remotely possible.

He giggles lightly, kissing my lips, then neck, carefully working his way down to my breasts once more, beginning to suck and kiss on them again as his other hand massages the breast his lips can't pay attention to at that particular moment.

I run my fingers through his hair, smiling.

So, that's how it all began.. Now, whenever Spencer cuddles with me, he'll tuck his head under the shirt I would be wearing, kissing, sucking, and massaging my breasts as he sighs in comfort.

He especially likes doing it after hard cases like today:

I hear the door open and close, my body immediately jolting out of bed and running to the door.

"Spence?" I call out, seeing Spencer turn around, the usual loving spark in his eyes when he sees me not as bright. He looks upset. "Baby, what's wrong?"

He shakes his head, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

"Tough case?" I ask, my heart wrenching in my chest at the sight of him so hurt.

He only nods quietly, walking over to me and wrapping his arms around my body, nuzzling his head in my neck as tears fall from his face to the collar of the baggy button-up I am wearing.

"Shh, it's okay, let it out," I console, putting my hand on the back of his head as he tightens his grip around me. "Do you wanna tell me what happened?"

Spencer doesn't answer right away, only pulling away a few moments after my questions and sniffling. I brush my thumbs to wipe away the falling tears from his face, kissing his lips softly, feeling him melt into my touch.

"We couldn't save most of the people on the case," he mumbles against my lips, his voice crackling.

I feel my chest tighten, wanting to comfort him in any way I can.

"I'm so sorry, but I'm sure that you and the team tried your hardest, and I'm so proud of you for that." I say, and Spencer nods, trying his best to smile, but it looks crooked and sad. "Is there anything I can do to help make you feel better?"

I can see him thinking for a moment, until he looks down at my outfit; a button-up of his (that is baggy on me), and my panties.

Not exactly fancy, but it was comfortable at the time.. especially because I hadn't seen Spence in five days and the shirt smelled like him.

Yes, I am lovesick.. what's so wrong with that?

"I want cuddles." he whispers, his voice still thick, and I smile softly, pulling the taut tie loose around his neck and kissing his lips softly.

"Okay, baby."

I hold Spencer's hand in mine, walking to the couch in our living room and lying down on it as Spencer follows in pursuit; laying his head on my chest, wrapping his limbs around mine.

We sigh in content until Spencer adjusts himself, slipping under 'my' button-up and beginning to kiss my right breast, sucking lightly on my nipple every so often, and massaging my left. He sniffles some, and I exhale through my nose in pleasure, the feeling of his soft lips on my skin intoxicating.

Although, I know Spencer is not in the mood for sex at the moment, only hungry for comfort from me and my touch as he moves his head under my shirt, giggling softly as he sucks on my skin.

"What are you laughing about?" I smile, and Spencer pops his head out of the collar of the button-up, a grin on his face as he kisses my lips gently.

"I just love you so much." he says, the familiar twinkle in his eyes returning.

"I love you so much." I say, kissing his nose softly, then his lips.

He smiles, kissing down my neck and back to my breasts, sucking on them again, giggling every so-often.

#spencerreidxreader #smut #fluff #spencerreidxreaderfluff #criminalminds #criminalmindsspencerreid

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taetaespeaches · 4 years

Text

“I never would’ve thought Agust D would be so soft after sex.”

yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: smut; fluff word count: 3.1K

a/n: ok, so, Kid is ready to give Yoon that good good just after hearing like half the mixtape, our girl hasn’t even seen the damn mv yet guys, like, she’s ready to pounce after just seven songs from her man. And honestly, mood. I hope you lovelies enjoy this, I hope it lives up to your expectations lmao, and thank you for reading :))

YOU paced back and forth from one end of your kitchen to the other as you waited for Yoongi to answer his damn phone. I mean, seriously, how long does it take to pick up the-

“Hello?” Yoongi’s low voice interrupted your thoughts through the phone’s speaker.

Gasping, you eagerly asked, “Can I start listening?” omitting a proper greeting.

“Oh hey, I’m fine, how are you?” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, fully aware he couldn’t see you. “You’re expecting a lot of self-control from me right now, Min,” you complained.

Yoongi allowed himself to chuckle before responding with a humored, “if you want, you can listen, Kid.”

You squealed in excitement, bouncing around in front of the oven. “You’re sure? I don’t have to wait for you or anything?”

“Nah, I’m almost there anyway,” he told you, and you could tell by the tone of his voice he was grinning. “Just no music video yet,” he said in a whiny tone which you knew must be accompanied with a pout. He enjoyed watching your reaction to his music videos.

“No music video, I promise,” you smiled, absolutely fond of the man. “Oh my god, I’m not ready for this am I?” You yelled out, Yoongi scoffing in response.

“Jesus, you’re ridiculous,” he groaned.

“Shush, I’m hanging up, I have a long-awaited mixtape to listen to, thank you very much.”

“Ok fine, fine,” he laughed, but before you could hang up, Yoongi added, “Hey, Kid?” You hummed in response. “Love you.”

You’ve heard the words a million times, but it never failed to make your heart pound. However, that didn’t stop you from teasing him a bit. “Yeah, yeah, love you, I gotta go, priorities, baby. I don’t know if you’ve heard but the Agust D just made a comeback.”

He chuckled into the phone once more before giving you a, “See you in a bit,” and then hung up.

Immediately, you were pressing play on the mixtape on Spotify, already having had it pulled up for five minutes.

The first song, ‘Moonlight’, started off soft before scratching records came in, and then your boyfriend’s voice. When he gave his iconic laugh with an “August D” you smiled in pride. That’s my honey boy.

You turned your attention to the meal you were preparing for you and Yoongi, one of his favorites, stirring the contents in a big pot on the stovetop. Bopping along to the music, you listened to the lyrics that talked about his story, starting in Daegu to flying high with his group, how he goes through feelings of confidence in his work to feeling untalented, the struggles of writing this exact mixtape due to the pressure from a larger audience, expectations, and self-doubt. You knew those struggles all too well. You were with him throughout it all.

You’d been given glimpses of the songs throughout the writing process, some tracks in full while others you only saw lyric scribblings on those yellow notepads he leaves around his studio and that littered your apartment. You first saw the chorus to ‘Moonlight’ written on one of those notepads that sat on your bedside table.

“I like this,” you told your boyfriend, holding the notepad in one hand as the other found its way in his dampened hair, his face resting against your bare chest.

“Huh?” He looked up at you, his hand gripping your waist as his eyelids fluttered. The sheets were in disarray around your still nude forms. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, is it for D-2?”

“Maybe,” he told you with a yawn. “Not sure.”

“I think you should use it,” you told him, your finger outlining the shell of his ear as his lips curved into a lazy smile. “It’s beautiful.”

“You really think so?” He asked, uncertain and a bit more awake.

“Yeah, definitely.”

He kissed the center of your chest before nuzzling his face further against your breasts. “You always know best, Kid.”

You felt your eyes prick with tears as you listened to the song, feeling immensely proud of your boyfriend. Of how hard he worked, of overcoming the doubt and fear, and just simply for the talent, passion, and artistry he shared with so many people.

As the mixtape played, you went through phases of dancing around, squealing in excitement, gasping at lyrics and phrasing, and more bouncing and dancing. You tried your best to focus on the lyrics, though you knew it would take a few listens to catch them all as you were too excited to comprehend everything just then.

Completely invested in the music, you didn’t hear your front door open, unaware of your boyfriend’s presence until he appeared in your peripheral, catching you doing a little strut that resembled Yoongi’s swagger walk he did on stage. Your head snapping to him, you were met with his gummy grin, his shoulders shaking in laughter as ‘Burn It’ continued to play throughout the kitchen.

“Are you leaving me for Agust D yet?” He teased, walking toward you.

“Do you realize how sexy you are? Like do you have any idea?” You asked accusatorily. “Like what the fuck, dude?”

“Jesus,” he huffed, a smile still plastered on his face. “You’re actually ridiculous.”

“Yeah, and you’re ridiculously talented, Min. You’re not told that enough,” you told him seriously. Reaching you, he placed his hands on your hips as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, stepping further into his arms.

“I’m told that plenty,” he dismissed with a bashful grin.

“No, you’re not,” you told him as ‘Burn It’ continued to play. Instead of responding to you, he kissed you which you immediately deepened, Yoongi stepping back a bit by the unexpected force behind your actions, though his arms wrapped tighter around your waist so your body was flush with his.

Pulling away, he chased your lips, making you smile. “I don’t even have the words right now to tell you how proud I am of you,” you told him seriously, tears forming in your eyes. You watched as Yoongi took a deep breath, keeping his own emotions under control at your sincere confession. “Just know I’m really proud,” you said as tears threatened to fall.

He quickly nodded just before bringing a hand to your jaw as he caught your lips again, giving you several quick pecks as he composed himself.

Letting out a breath that sounded to be one of relief, Yoongi peered around your frame, inspecting the food cooking on the stove, as well as the food that had spilled outside of the pot, with a grin. “That looks good.”

“Hopefully,” you said with a smile as Yoongi nuzzled his face against your neck, refusing to let you go. With the overwhelming pride and love you felt, mixed with the fact that the man on the mixtape was all yours, and he was standing in your kitchen, in your arms, pressing sweet kisses to your neck, you had a sudden desire for him.

As ‘People’ started playing, you were instantly struck with the memory of coming to his studio as he was working on that very track. It was just the instrumental then, but it was interesting and different from the other stuff he had been working on. Yoongi must have been thinking upon the same memory as he lifted his head, a gummy grin directed to you as his eyes found yours.

“I remember the night you wrote this,” you smiled, biting your lower lip. That night, you had spent about an hour of it sitting on his desk as Yoongi sat in his chair in front of you, his chin resting on your knees as you both discussed your ideas of life, and people, and changes, and what it all meant, if it even meant anything.

You had already been dating for well over a year, but it was a moment where you and Yoongi felt a closeness between you both that hadn’t really been there before, becoming more mentally and emotionally attune with each other.

The conversation eventually faded out, the intense feeling of understanding between you both leading to you having sex on his studio couch.

“Trust me, I remember it very well,” he chuckled, his mind running through every moment of that night, from the feeling of closeness, to the warmth of your body underneath his as he pressed you against the couch cushions, the way you moaned his name and whispered ‘I love you’s’.

As the chorus of ‘People’ sounded from your laptop, your eyes widened at the sultry soothe of your boyfriend’s vocals.

“Since when do you sing like that, Min?” You teased with a smile, your eyes bouncing around his soft features. As he let out a breathy chuckle, you slid your your hands down his neck to rest overtop his collarbones as you leaned toward him and kissed him deeply.

The action took him by surprise though he easily found his rhythm, his hands slipping underneath your shirt, feeling at the bare skin of your waist.

As you began backing up, he quickly felt around to shut the stove off before following you toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss. Your hands found his waist as his moved to your face, taking control. You began lifting his shirt up, you both separating just long enough for you to pull it over his head and discard it somewhere in the hallway outside your room.

Eagerly, you unbuttoned his jeans, Yoongi helping you get the clothing off him as he released his hold on you to step out of them. Backing up, your legs hit the edge of the bed and you locked your eyes with your boyfriend’s. Smirking at him, you pulled your own shirt off before unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor at your feet.

Yoongi bit his lip, his eyes settling on your chest before slowly dragging them back up to meet your darkened gaze. Tilting his head at you, you quipped, “What are you waiting for?” Yoongi scoffed before approaching you and pushing your body so you fell against the mattress. He reached for the waist of your jeans, taking no time in unzipping them and tugging them down your legs, you lifting your hips to help him. Your panties were removed next, Yoongi dropping them to floor as he allowed his eyes to rake over your body, taking in every inch of you.

You sat up on your elbows, watching the man as he looked over your nude form. “For a man who brags an awful lot about being a king and a boss, you seem a bit timid, baby,” you teased in a sultry tone.

Your boyfriend scoffed again, a smirk forming on his lips. “Be patient,” he scolded, though he stepped toward you, nudging your inner knee with his leg, making you widen the gap between your thighs as he stared down at your center.

“My patience disappeared the moment I clicked play on that mixtape,” you smiled. “I want you.” With that, you sat up, your hands slipping underneath the waistband of his underwear, lowering them until they easily slid down his legs, pooling at his feet. You kept eye contact with him as you left a sweet kiss to his lower abdomen, just above his pelvic area.

He let out a quick breath as he smiled, lowering his body on top of yours, your back meeting the mattress. “If I had known Agust D would get you this worked up I would have released a mixtape two years ago,” he joked, your hands grabbing onto his sides as his lips found yours, kissing you passionately.

One of his arms was being used to prop himself up overtop you as his opposite hand slid down to your core, his fingers feeling between your legs. He groaned into your mouth at feeling how wet you’d become, and you smiled against his lips.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you used your strength to push against his body, rolling him over and straddling his hips. Yoongi’s breath was heavy and shallow as he anticipated being inside you, his large hands gripping your hips, his eyes eagerly taking in the sight of your form on top of him. He always did love you on top.

Placing one of your hands to his chest, your other found his hardened length. You stroked him a few times, Yoongi letting out a soft moan at the feeling, his hand sliding up your abdomen to your breast as he squeezed the supple flesh in his palm. At his touch, you guided him to your entrance, sharply intaking breath at the feeling of him slipping inside, letting the air out in a throaty moan.

“Fuck, Kid,” Yoongi breathed out, pinching your nipple between his fingers as you moved your hand from his dick to his chest, bracing yourself against him as you began slowly grinding atop him. Yoongi’s hand left your breast to your thigh, clutching the muscle as he bit his lip, watching your body move. “You’re so fucking hot.”

You held back a moan as you increased your pace, looking up to the ceiling before squeezing your eyes shut as he hit particularly deep. “Fuck,” you breathed out, lowering your gaze to Yoongi’s face, meeting his hooded eyes as he looked up at you in bliss.

His chest was like velvet underneath your hands and you wanted to feel more of his skin on yours. As if reading your mind, Yoongi moved his hands to your lower back, pulling you toward him so your chest was flush with his. He kissed you messily as he lifted his hips off the bed to move in and out of you as he held you to his body.

“I love you so much,” he confessed shakily against your lips, his breathing erratic due to the pleasure you were giving him.

“Oh my god, Yoongi, I love you,” you moaned, moving your face to his neck where you kissed and nibbled his skin lightly.

Wanting to treat him, you reluctantly pulled yourself away from him, sitting back up as you rocked back and forth on him, arching your back and placing a hand to his thigh to support yourself. Yoongi’s hands grabbed onto the sides of your legs as he watched you, looking more and more fucked out the longer you rode him.

Eyeing his thin but toned body, his smooth skin, and the flex of his abdomen as he took sharp breaths, you groaned. “You look so good,” you told him, admiring the man beneath you. Your man. All yours. “Feel so good,” you moaned.

One of Yoongi’s hands left your leg to find your hand that was pressed against his lower abdomen. He took your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours before bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles softly as he locked his gaze on yours.

The intimate action had your lower abdomen tightening. Sitting up straight, you brought your hand toward him which he grabbed with his other hand, helping you to support yourself as your motions atop him became hastier, approaching your high.

“Yoon, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby,” he nodded, squeezing your hands as you neared your climax. “Me too.”

You let out a whimper, lowering your body to Yoongi’s again, your dewy chest meeting his, Yoongi wrapping his arms around your lower back as you both worked each other into your finishes. Yoongi buried his face in your neck as he let out small muffled grunts, you breathing out a moan in his ear. As he came, he hugged your body to his tightly, letting go inside you. The feeling of him releasing had you crashing into your own high, biting your lip as you moaned breathily, Yoongi kissing your neck sweetly as you came down.

You relaxed atop Yoongi, breathing heavy as his fingers toyed with the small of your back, soothing back and forth along the curve of your ass. You had a hand on his neck, slipping your fingers into his damp strands, your other hand on his chest, dragging your fingers along his pectoral.

“The mixtape is really good,” you assured him in a whisper, kissing his jaw. “Well, what I’ve heard so far.”

Yoongi let out a breathy chuckle, flattening a palm on your lower back. “Thank you, Kid.”

“No need to thank me, I’m just being honest.”

“No, thank you for always supporting me. In everything,” he clarified, emotion thick in his voice.

You lifted your head to peer at his face, catching the glassy shine in his eyes. “Always,” you assured him.

He nodded, looking at you with a soft smile. “I know,” he whispered, barely audible, giving away that he didn’t trust his voice, knowing it would break if he spoke louder. “It means- you mean the world.”

You lowered your lips to his face, giving his plush cheek a small kiss. “I never would’ve thought Agust D would be so soft after sex,” you teased with a big smile, Yoongi scoffing, though he couldn’t hold back his gummy grin.

He groaned loudly, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m starving,” he changed the topic, making you giggle.

“Well, lucky for you, your girlfriend made you a delicious nearly cooked meal that is probably very cold at this point,” you smirked.

“Oh, lucky for me?” He questioned with a small smile.

“Mhmm,” you confirmed with a small chuckle.

Yoongi sucked air between his teeth, ticking his head to the side. “Remind me to wife you up later.”

You scoffed playfully, rolling off his body as you prepared to stand up and find some clothes. “In your dreams, Min.”

Scooping your t-shirt off the floor, you slipped it over your head before grabbing a pair of panties from your dresser drawer, all while Yoongi’s eyes followed your every move. Sending your boyfriend an air kiss from where he sat at the edge of the bed watching you, you walked toward the bedroom door. “Hurry up and get dressed, Gramps, I need your album commentary.”

You exited the room, turning toward the bathroom to clean yourself up. Yoongi shook his head with a chuckle. “Yeah, in my dreams,” he mumbled as he stood up to get dressed. Taking his sweet ass time, you walked back past the bedroom toward the kitchen, noticing him still stumbling around for a shirt.

“Hey, hustle, Min! I still have a music video to watch, my dude!” You called out to him as he looked to you with widened eyes. “Your shirt is out here, by the way.”

“Ah, what did I tell you about patience,” he whined out, a pout on his lips as he walked through the hallway, grabbing his shirt on his way, feeling full of appreciation and adoration for you.

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 3 years

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Dear Evan Hansen

You may have seen some ~online discourse~ about the film Dear Evan Hansen, an adaptation of the 2016 Broadway musical, and you might have wondered what all the hubbub is about. I mean, it’s a feel good story about a senior in high school, Evan Hansen (Ben Platt), who has some pretty severe anxiety and depression. While trying to fulfill an assignment from his therapist to write a letter to himself, his letter gets picked up by another student, Connor (Colton Ryan) - and later that day, Connor kills himself. Connor’s grieving parents and sister Zoe (Amy Adams, Danny Pino, and Kaitlyn Dever) are desperate to learn more from the boy they think was Connor’s best friend - after all, Connor’s suicide note was a letter addressed to “Dear Evan Hansen.” And, as you can imagine, Evan tells them about the unfortunate mistake and sits with them in their grief as they struggle to pick up the pieces of their lives.

Just kidding! He lies to them, repeatedly, elaborately, expansively for months, constructing an entire false friendship with Connor that never happened, and ingratiating himself into the wealthy nuclear family he never had, in large part because he wants to get into Zoe’s pants! THIS IS THE PROTAGONIST OF THE STORY. Oh, and it’s a musical so there is a lot of singing and crying and singing WHILE crying and sometimes crying and not singing at all. But the #inspiration, you guys.

Things I liked:

Pretty much everything but the story and Ben Platt’s performance. The supporting cast is stacked, and all of them do a great job at elevating material scraped directly out of a diaper worn by someone who just chewed their way through a copy of the DSM-5.

A couple of the songs are damn catchy - “Waving Through a Window” and “You Will Be Found” are standouts for a reason - and here’s the thing, Platt sings them well. But as you’ll discover, there’s a lot more to a movie musical than just singing your part.

Stephen Chbosky, the man behind every deep thought I and a lot of people in my generation had in 2006 after he wrote The Perks of Being a Wallflower, is a pretty good director. I particularly enjoyed the fanvid-type cuts in “Waving Through a Window” in conjunction with the lyrics, and his use of interstitial shots to flashbacks (and sometimes flashforwards!) is a neat little bit of shorthand that I thought was used sparingly enough to be effective.

Amy Fucking Adams. She’s holding on so hard, so desperately to the idea of who her son could have been, rather than the reality of who he was, and she is full of such deep pain that is masked by an almost endless supply of patience with Evan and relentless positivity. All this made me want was Enchanted 2 even worse than I already did.

Super into everything Zoe wears - the costuming department did a great job, and now all I want to do is live in mom jeans and baggy sweaters.

Did I Cry? I teared up a couple of times because I’m not a completely heartless bastard and when Amy Adams offered Evan Connor’s college money, my heart broke for the lie Evan had thrust upon her, and Julianne Moore’s song got me good, because she’s just a single mom to Evan who is doing her goddamn best.

Things I hated more than the time I dropped a frozen gallon container of fruit cocktail on my pinkie toe in my parents’ garage and it turned black and I thought it was gonna fall off:

Ben Platt is 28 years old. He originated the role of Evan Hansen on Broadway, so in many respects it makes sense that he plays the role in the movie, except for the one kinda sorta important thing where he looks like a wizened old crone standing amongst a sea of children doing his best twitching, cringing Hunchback of Notre Dame impression. If you want someone to convincingly play 20 years their junior, hire Paul Rudd. Otherwise, please don’t ask me to believe that this supposed 18-year-old has crow’s feet.

And that twitching nervous energy is a huge part of the black hole at the center of this film - he’s playing to the cheap seats and walking through the halls of his high school like a wet chihuahua. It’s an excruciating acting choice to watch - he doesn’t just have anxiety, he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown seemingly every second of every day. Like honestly, where is only-mentioned-never-seen Dr. Sherman, because this young man’s meds are NOT WORKING DR. SHERMAN.

There’s such a lack of self-awareness on behalf of the writing, directing, and performance by Platt. There’s one song, “Sincerely, Me,” that offers the only glimpse of commentary about what Evan is doing, by pointing out the malicious ridiculousness of him writing a series of fake emails as proof of his and Connor’s friendship.

Also what high schoolers email this much?? I know this was written in probably 2014 or so, but has a bitch never heard of a text? Even a DM? This whole plot is constructed around the premise that high schoolers are just constantly, constantly emailing each other.

Everything - and I mean EV-ER-Y-THING - about Evan’s relationship with Zoe is so creepy and disturbing that with a soundtrack change, this could easily be a horror movie. He attempts to get her to like him by describing to her all the things her brother noticed about her - oh wait, I’m sorry, all the things HE noticed about her while he was skulking in the shadows following her around for years, watching every move she made, and it ends with him singing repeatedly “I LOVE YOU” because following a girl around and never having a conversation with her or knowing her at all is love, right? This was clearly written by the same people who chose “Every Breath You Take” as their wedding song because Sting is hot and they never actually listened to the damn words.

And it gets about 10 billion times worse when Zoe goes to Evan’s house alone, takes him up to his room, and sings “I don’t need reasons to want you” and that was the moment I was that person I hate in a movie theater and I pulled out my phone to Google who wrote the music and lyrics to the musical (we were in the back row of the theater no one was behind me THIS WAS AN OUTRAGE EMERGENCY) and of motherfucking course it was written by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, 2 men who heard about meeting an actual human woman from a friend one time but otherwise are unfamiliar with the concept.

Lastly, enormous serial killer vibes from Evan sending unlabeled flash drives anonymously through the mail with no note in an attempt to right his wrongs. That’s not catharsis, that’s how the next installment in the Saw franchise starts, with Evan in a Billy the clown doll mask showing up on the screen and asking if you want to play a fucking game.

Also, I know it’s not possible for the narrative to justify this in a way that could be satisfying based on Evan’s actions, but what is with this thing where single working-class mom Julianne Moore is turning down rich people’s money for Evan to go to college? Like, obviously we can’t have that happen in the movie but in real life, fuck your pride! Take those rich people’s money!

I also know how movies work but nothing annoys me more than a giant group of high schoolers all getting beeps and boops to indicate text notifications all at the same time because I don’t know a single person under the age of 55 who keeps their ringer on. That shit is on vibrate AT MOST, and I feel like that’s a millennial thing.

The emotional climax of the film is obviously Evan’s WAY TOO LATE confession, but the idea that it’s prompted by Connor’s family suddenly getting a lot of internet hate is, frankly, laughable. If Sandy Hook taught me one thing, it is that no tragedy is immune from trolls who live only to cause other people devastating emotional pain on the internet. That shit starts day 1. Apparently no one involved in this production has ever been on Twitter?

Also it feels like there should have been a dog somewhere in this movie and there was no dog, so points off for that too.

Perhaps Dear Evan Hansen isn’t nearly as deep as it aspires to be. Perhaps it’s a morality play, a simplistic message of “Don’t lie, kids, lying is bad!” Major studio movies wrap themselves up with a nice bow at the end so everyone can feel good about themselves and leave with a happy ending, but the moronic cruelty on display here makes that feat feel impossible. We’re left with Evan in an orchard, reading Connor’s favorite books and staring into the big blue sky with all the self-actualization he’s earned now as a lil treat. And if Evan Hansen looked like an actual 18-year-old, it would be a lot easier to extend more empathy to him and his not-fully-developed prefrontal cortex, but it’s a little harder with this fully-grown, weathered man who was old enough to remember seeing Liar Liar in theaters.

Dear Evan Hansen,

Get some actual help and a haircut and maybe you can grow up enough to have an actual healthy interaction with any other living person, ever.

Sincerely,

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#121in2021 #dear evan hansen #dear evan hansen review #dear evan hansen 2021 #ben platt #amy adams #kaitlyn dever #julianne moore #colton ryan #danny pino #movie reviews #film reviews

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sparrowjaywrites · 3 years

Text

Forget-Me-Not

-Spencer Reid x Female Reader- Plot: When the team is caught in explosion you wake up with no memory of who you are, or who anyone on your team is.

Y/N = Your name

Y/L/N = Your last name

H/C = Hair color

Heat burned around her as the young woman stumbled to her feet; her vision was hazy, blurred. There was a part of her who wondered if the blurriness was from her pounding head or her missing glasses… glasses moments ago she hadn’t even known she wore. Her feet kicked against debris small stones and smoldering pieces of wood; she could see an opening… a doorway red and blue lights flashed through it. She coughed as she moved, she needed to run, to get out faster… yet despite her desperate need to escape, a need she didn’t understand she couldn’t make her feet drag any quicker over the soot covered floor.

She stumbled through the doorway the red and orange haze of smoke quickly replaced by police lights that blinked fast enough she wasn’t sure if everything was washed in blue and red or possibly purple as her vision began to blur more each time she coughed. A man… no two men raced towards her shouting words she couldn’t make out past the ringing in her ears. Her knees gave out just as one of the men a handsome black man with kind eyes reached her. The other man was just as handsome though in another way… cute with curly brown hair and a singed sweater vest over a buttoned up shirt that she was sure had once been white.

She let the men drag her towards the ambulance slumping into their arms her boots dragging on the black cement. She was placed on a stretcher the second man, the nerdy one she dubbed him simply climbed in with her holding her hand tightly in his. She didn’t know why he held onto her so tightly but she found she liked it; it was comforting for some unknown reason.

The drive to the hospital seemed to pass in a blink of an eye… or maybe she’d just passed out for a moment; that was more likely she mused as she was rolled through the ER doors. Nerdy man followed her inside but was quickly rushed away by a nurse. The nurses were speaking to her asking questions she still couldn’t fully hear though she could now make out the low hum of their voices. They quickly stopped speaking to her just offering her comforting smiles as they worked. She knew she must have been loud with her hisses and yelps of pain as they began to remove blackened pieces of cloth from her legs and chest, and small pieces of metal from throughout her body.

Nerdy man was back as soon as the nurses let him past. Again her hand was in his as he talked to her and tried to smile at her. She blinked at him blankly, she couldn’t hear him… the nurses must have said as much, a doctor had even looked in her ears. Why was he bothering? Who was he, why did he seem so upset by her blank stare? He lifted a hand from hers and brushed his fingers along her cheek, she jerked her head back at the motion. Holding her hand was one thing, to touch her face when she didn’t even know him was another. The man quickly moved his hand back looking at her questioningly; hurt clear in his brown eyes.

A nurse quickly joined them injecting something into her IV, it wasn’t until her eyes began to shut that she recognized the burn in her throat and realized she had been yelling. What she had yelled she had no idea, nor did she care as her eyes drifted closed.

---Line Break---

The next time the young woman awoke she was in a room. She scanned the room with squinted eyes, she couldn’t see much of anything clearly, no she would need her glasses for that. Glasses she had left behind in the burning warehouse she had woken in originally. She cursed her stupidity her eyes landing on a man reading a book beside her, she could hear the turn of the page every few moments, far too quickly for anyone to actually read she suspected. Blinking back the haze of sleep… or drugs, yeah definitely drugs, she recognized the man.

Why was Nerdy man by her bedside again? She blinked at him staring silently until he glanced up as the beeping of her heart monitor sped up as she tried to figure out who he was. Those brown eyes that seemed so very precious to her though she knew not why locked with hers. A relieved smile split the man’s face as she immediately set the book he’d been holding aside.

“Y/N?” His voice fit him, his long lanky form straightening as he grasped her hand once again. Y/N? Who was Y/N? Was she Y/N? The woman blinked fear flickering through her as she realized she didn’t know… what was her name? How old was she? When was her birthday? Who was the man sitting next to her? “Whoa, hey it’s okay, you’re safe, we’re safe.” Nerdy man quickly reached out cupping her cheek in his large hand his long fingers gently caressing her skin as she began to hyperventilate.

“Who are you?” She managed to rasp out past her smoke damaged throat. Brown eyes widened at her question his hand quickly falling from her cheek as he gazed into her eyes worriedly.

“Y/N? It’s me, Spencer.” Spencer… the name fit, recognition pinged in the back of her mind, though the sensation was short and fleeting gone before she could grasp it.

“I… am I Y/N?” She swallowed thickly speaking her words slowly, she could hear the fear in her voice, it was almost solid it was so thick. Nerdy man… no, Spencer closed his eyes clearly blinking back panicked tears as he took a deep breath then nodded.

“Yes, you’re Y/N. I’ll be right back.” He quickly stood striding out of the room in long strides on long legs. Though blurred Y/N couldn’t help but note he had a very nice ass… shut up, Y/N, this isn’t the time. She chastised herself surprised how quickly she accepted her new… or old name. It felt like a long while before Spencer returned followed by two men, one clearly a doctor in a white coat the other a man in what was clearly a suit, though he had the tie and jacket draped over his arm.

“Hello, Agent Y/L/N, my name is Doctor Lynn; Spencer here tells me you don’t remember him?” The doctor asked slowly giving her a content smile. Y/N shakes her head silently noting the deep frown on the suited older man’s face and the pain that quickly covered Spencer’s face. “Agent Y/L/N do you know where you are?”

“A hospital… is Y/L/N my last name?” Her eyes move to Spencer as she asks the question, he had stood by her through everything from the moment she’d stumbled out of the warehouse too lying in the bed she was now in. He was who she trusted to answer her honestly.

“Yes,” Spencer said clearly though his voice rasped with unshed tears. Suit man placed a hand on his arm reassuringly.

“Agent Y/L/N, can you tell me what you remember about yourself?”

“I… I have H/C hair…” She responds after a moment of thought, small flashes of cutting off long H/C locks in a bathroom, a school bathroom as a teenager flashing through her mind, “I wear glasses… I left them in the warehouse… I couldn’t fully remember them so I didn’t pick them up.” She adds after a moment.

“Well you’re correct on those counts. Agent Hotchner, Dr. Reid could you please wait in the waiting room?” Both men shared wary looks but nodded leaving the room. The suited man shooting her a caring smile on his way out. The next few hours… at least it felt like hours were spent being whisked through the hospital from one machine to another then back again. Nurses explained what they were doing every step of the way, every hour she was asked if the remembered the three words the doctor had told her before her bed had been rolled from her room. Spoon, House, Rock. She passed with flying colors or so her Nurse, Rebecca Jones informed after each memory check.

“It seems you have amnesia Agent Y/L/N. We believe it was caused by the head injury you received in the blast along with brain damage caused by multiple seizures you experienced in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.” Dr. Lynn explained slowly and simply making sure she nodded before continuing. “You seem to be forming new memories and retaining information perfectly well, which is a surprise considering your ADHD, making us believe your experiencing retrograde amnesia, your bouts of recognition also assure us your symptoms are temporary.”

“So I’ll get my memories back?”

“You should, I can’t promise you’ll get them all back, you’ll likely never remember the moments before the blast, but overall we have high hopes for your prognosis, Agent Y/L/N.” They discussed more technical things such as bringing in a social worker and psychologist to determine if she is mentally sound enough to be in charge of herself or if her medical power of attorney would need to be brought in. It was quickly determined she would need to be placed under her medical power of attorney’s power until she at least remembered more about herself and her life. From there though she was informed of everything being done and all conversations she was not a part of them.

Normally she’d have been furious about this she suspected but considering she couldn’t even remembered her damn birthday let alone what medications she was one, where she worked, or any of her family she agreed this was probably for the best. She didn’t see Spencer or suit man again until the next day; they came into the room cleaned up and in fresh clothes.

“Hey, Y/N how you feeling?” Suit man asked smiling at her.

“Like I was blown up… which I was so that seems pretty apt.” She shrugs in response. She had learned she had second degree burns covering both her legs and a good portion of her chest. She had also been riddled with shrapnel though all of it had been removed and the cut’s either sewn or glued closed and covered. She was told she could be released in about forty eight hours when she’d been woken for the billionth time by her nurse that morning. All her wounds could be managed outside the hospital but they wanted to keep her a few days due to her concussion.

“Memories or not you’re still you.” Suit man snorts with a small grin.

“Good to know. So which of you is my medical power of attorney? They said you two were handling my affairs so I assume it’s gotta be one of ya?”

“I am, I uh… we made each other our power of attorney’s when we moved in together.” Spencer spoke up nervously. Y/N’s eyebrow rose at his words… moved in together? Her mind flicked to the sense of comfort she got from him clutching her hand, the way her mind immediately jumped to… less than appropriate thoughts when looking at his very fine ass, and the way he hand caressed her cheek. Oh… oh, that made a lot more sense now.

“Dating, engaged, or married?” She asked calmly smiling as he immediately turned bright red and started stuttering over himself.

“You two are married.” Suit man snorted. Y/N nodded slowly, thinking hard she could remember a wedding dress, blue flowers… forget-me-nots… huh ironic she snorted at the memory before smiling. It may have only been flashes but the memories brought joy, so very much joy.

“What are you smiling about?” Spencer finally found his voice sitting beside her in the same chair he’d been sat in the night before.

“I was trying to remember, forget-me-nots… at our wedding? A bit ironic now wouldn’t you say?” She asked with a small laugh. Spencer’s face lit up at her words as he chuckled along with her.

“I’ve never known anything to fit the meaning of the word better.”

“I mean, the odds, we tempted fate with that one didn’t we?”

“Clearly...” He took her hand in his squeezing it. “Do you… remember anything else?”

“My dress, at least I’m assuming I was the one in the dress,” She raises an eyebrow her eyes moving up and down his slim form. “Though I’m sure you’d look very beautiful in one.” The laughter from her other side was sudden and quickly covered up with a cough as suit guy quickly left the room.

“Your dress… I don’t wear dresses” Spencer quickly confirmed his own amused smile blindingly bright. Maybe, just maybe she could get through this after all?

______________________________________________________ AN: Hey Everyone I know it’s been years since I posted but I’m back with this little story I suddenly had the urge to write at 3 am. I plan to post the original version of this which is with my original character as well for anyone interested in that. I may make a part 2 if people are interested, and if not then the one with my character will probably at least get a part two. I hope you all enjoy!

#spencer reid x reader #reader insert #spencer reid x female reader insert

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druigswhores · 3 years

Text

you’re alive in my head

summary: in which natasha no longer had to live in a world without you, there you were in her arms once again. but why can’t she remember your life before westview?

content warning: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, set after endgame, angst, mentions of death, trauma, their relationship ending on a bad note, trust issues & previous steve x nat, there is some hints to homophobia in this chapter :/ (WANDAVISION SPOILERS!)

note: sorry this chapter was late!! it’s 3.3k words and i got my friend to spell check and edit it, ty ashy ily <33

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! (lmk if you want anymore content like this!)

‘моя любовь’ = ‘my love’ in russian <3

‘принцесса’ = ‘princess’ (i used google translate so idk how accurate it is

SERIES MASTERLIST

PART THREE COMING SOON

Death.

It's a complicated thing; A theory.

Nobody knows what happens to you after you die. Nobody knows what happens to your soul after you die. We make things up to make ourselves feel better, and convince ourselves that our deceased loved ones are watching over us, all the while convincing others that our loved ones are in a better place now.

But in reality, those are just dreams dying to be true.

Natasha didn't know if you were dead or alive. She just knew your body turned into particles of dust, your soul disappeared along with the rest of you. She didn't want to believe that you were truly gone, so she spoke to you.

She spoke to you, thinking you were listening to her; believing you were listening to her and that you were still around.

It was almost as if she was speaking to your ghost, the mere presence of you that remained with her, the piece of you that was a part of her. It felt wrong being in the compound without you, she felt as though she was trapped; trapped with the many reminders of how she failed you. The walls were suffocating her. Every time she thought about what had happened it felt as though the rooms were becoming smaller. The large 'A' plastered around the compound taunting her, reminding her of what they lost. Of what she lost.

So she had to get away.

Natasha found herself taking trips to the beach, the one the two of you adored oh so much. She'd walk along the sand, the harsh wind blowing against her face. The air smelled of salt, and she'd take a deep breath in with a smile. She'd reminisce all the times the two of you managed to get away from the compound, how effortlessly gorgeous you'd look with the breeze blowing through your hair, your laughter sounding like a melody that Natasha now longed to hear once more.

If she stood really still, she could, once more, feel the warmth of your fingers dragging against her skin, gently tracing shapes onto her body. Her heart would ache whenever she'd turn to the side, finding that nobody was beside her.

She had to get used to living in a world without you.

"моя любовь..." She sighed, fumbling with a stone she'd picked up, before swinging her arm and throwing it into the rippling water. The temperature was dropping. Christmas coming closer and closer every day. Natasha wrapped her coat tighter around her body, staring at the waves in front of her, observing the way they'd hit the shore before pulling back into the ocean. In the distance, she could see boats, and although they were far away, she noticed how the water carried them; the movement of the ocean pushing the boat into the direction of the wind. "No sailors.." Natasha realized, her eyes following a lifeguard boat making its way to the empty boats, likely checking for any survivors.

Yet another reminder of how the Avengers had failed.

It's only been a couple of months since the battle yet the traces of you continued to fade away. The sweater that was once yours now clung to Natasha's body as she made her way back home.

She'd do anything to bring you back. She'd do anything to have you in her arms again, complaining about something you'd undoubtedly forget hours later. She missed the way you'd never share your snacks with anyone but her. The feeling of warmth that would blossom inside her when your eyes met in a crowded room. All the times when your knee would brush against hers during a meeting. She missed the way it felt to lay next to you. She missed forgetting the world with you.

God, she missed you so much.

But there she was. In the same room as you, years later, preparing breakfast. Her hair was coiled and pinned up, keeping it in place. Her dress fit her perfectly, the skirt swaying with her movements as she elegantly makes her way across the kitchen floor. Her every movement seemed like a performance; like she was the performer and you were the audience, watching her in awe. She was captivating in every possible way, her enchanting voice pulling you in like a siren.

"Good morning, honey! I've been up all morning making us a delightful breakfast." Natasha greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, her performance almost seeming comical. "Nat... it's just peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." You pointed out, glancing over your shared kitchen, seeing the mess that was made. Somehow milk spilled all over the counters, dripping onto the ground, you immediately recognized the smell of burnt toast that hung in the air as you continued looking around.

"Peanut butter and jelly is your favourite, remember?" Natasha reminded you. Your eyes widened at the realization, thanking her. You helped her bring the food to the table, making a note to yourself to tidy up the kitchen before the dinner at Wanda and Vision's that the two of you were invited for.

But you couldn't recall Wanda telling you about the dinner?

"Are you okay, моя любовь?" She placed her hand above yours on the counter. The two of you sat in front of each other, your half-eaten breakfast resting between the two of you. "Of course, why wouldn't I be? I'm with my best girl." You smiled softly at her, and though your words said one thing, Natasha could easily recognise the distant look on your face as you stared off into space, lost in your own thoughts. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours принцесса?" She teased, squeezing your hand gently.

"What time are we supposed to be at Wanda's?" You asked her, snapping yourself out of the trance you were in. Natasha hesitated, eyebrows furrowed as she watched your every move. Something was bothering you. "We're going to Wanda's in the evening моя любовь, she asked us a while back if we could help out before the others arrived, remember?" Natasha stated as the two of you brought your plates to the sink, beginning to tidy up.

"I'm not sure how much help you'll be sweetheart." You teased, pointing at the mess that was created due to Natasha making breakfast. She feigned hurt in response, "Oh принцесса, you're breaking my heart!" She made her way around you, passing you the cutlery as you rinsed the plates. You chuckled softly at her playful behaviour. "I think we should stick with me making us breakfast so our kitchen doesn't end up getting flooded, wouldn't you agree?" You chuckled, as you made your way around the kitchen, the two of you tidying up the mess Natasha had created.

"If only we were a robot," Natasha sighed, wrapping her arms around you from behind. You leaned back into her, embracing the warmth which radiated from her body, "or had powers." This was a position you were so very used to. "If only," she responded playfully. You turn your head back at the grinning redhead, as she leaned in for a kiss, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt your lips meet.

"You know," Natasha started, "we do have some time to spare-" you then cut her off.

"I like the way you think, sweetheart," You smiled softly, turning in her arms before making your way to your shared bedroom. Natasha followed closely behind.

The two of you were dolled up, looking your best.

Your dress ended just below your knees, the skirt extenuating your hips; it swayed with every movement you made. The short sleeves of the dress looked as though they were about to fall off your shoulders. Natasha's dress, however, was much more slim fitting and hugged her hips perfectly before flowing down, much like a waterfall, making it harder to look at anything else but her.

"Do you think Wanda will get mad at us for arriving a bit later than expected?" You asked nervously, fumbling with your fingers as the two of you made your way down the path that led to Wanda and Vision's home. Natasha shuffled around balancing the tray of pastries you'd prepared in one hand while using her free hand to rub your back gently, comforting you, "I'm sure she won't mind, моя любовь," she reassured you. As you near the house you could hear mumbling from the inside; you heard three or more different voices.

"Is that- is Vision singing?" You asked worriedly, glancing at Natasha who was mirroring your reaction. She knocked on the door, and the singing inside had abruptly stopped. "Oh, that must be our other guests," You heard Vision exclaim, "perfect timing!" You could hear his footsteps gradually get closer. The door swung open and Vision gave a nervous smile, glancing down at the tray of food Natasha was holding before letting out a sigh of relief. He hugged the both of you before welcoming you into his home. He introduced you to Mr. Hart, Visions boss, and Mrs. Hart, his wife.

"Oh hello," Mrs. Hart greeted, "no need to be so formal tonight honey." she smiled at you, pushing away the hand you had extended for her to shake. Instead, she pulled you into a tight hug which quite honestly surprised you. You awkwardly pat the older yet noteably shorter woman on the back before pulling away to quickly greet her husband. He glanced at you and Natasha in confusion, opening his mouth to say something before getting interrupted. "Oh here, let me take that, Natasha. You stay here and I'll go get a plate to put these on." You glanced at everyone in the room, offering them a smile before making your way to the kitchen, Vision stopped you before you got to the door, extending his arm out.

"Thank you," he leaned down to whisper to you. You squeezed his arm in response. You weren't used to seeing Vision in this form. He looked human. You rushed into the kitchen, startling Wanda, "I've figured you needed help." You smiled sheepishly at her, placing the tray down onto the counter, taking in all the chaos that was going on in the kitchen. It reminded you of this morning.

"Well, this isn't the first chaotic kitchen I've walked into today," you teased, reaching out for a plate before neatly plating the pastries onto it. Wanda laughed nervously in response, as she flicked through the recipe cards, searching for the right one. You walked back into the living room, placing the plate onto the coffee table prompting Vision to jump up out of his seat and offer Mr. and Mrs. Hart an appetizer. Looking to Natasha, you gave her a wink before swiftly turning around, your dress swaying with your movements as you made your way back into the kitchen, missing the frown forming on Mr. Hart's face.

"Oh, what was I supposed to do next?" Wanda began rambling, "what was the main course again?"

Making your way to the recipe cards floating in the air you attempted to help her find the card with the right recipe, steak. You could hear Vision playing a song on the ukulele while Natasha unwillingly sang alongside him.

"That's not it" You sighed, sifting through the cards, "is this one steak?"

"Steak," Wanda started, "Diane!" she accidentally yells. Her eyes widened as she realized what she'd done. She looks to you with a frown. You just barely heard Vision respond with a, "yes dear?"

"This is going terribly," Wanda frowned, leaning her head upon your shoulder. You chuckled, rubbing her back gently before pulling her away, forcing her to look at you, "Hey, you can do this, okay? You're not alone," you reassured her, attempting to raise her spirits. She sighed in relief, repeating to herself ", "I can do this, I can do this, I can do this..."

Vision barged into the kitchen unexpectedly, his nerves radiating through room. Wanda panics, accidentally using her powers to throw the lobsters out of the window.

"How can I be of assistance." Vision asks, mirroring Wanda's expression.

"Well," Wanda started, "the chicken is no longer a chicken and the lobsters just flew the coop, so the steak is the last man standing," she explains, making her way around the kitchen. You held the recipe card in your hand, skimming the instructions, "it says here you could cut down the prep time with a meat tenderiser." You recited, looking at the couple once more. "Excellent plan! Where's the tenderiser?" Vision questions, ready to help in the kitchen.

"I'm looking at him," Wanda began, holding her hand out to pass the tenderiser to Vision. You pull her hand back before Vision reaches out for it. "No. What you need to do, Vision, is go entertain your guests. Have faith in your wife and I, okay?" You pushed him out of the kitchen, before turning around and clapping your hands.

"So, where were we?" You asked, hopefully.

After a stressful couple of minutes, a brief visit from a woman with a pineapple, and Natasha almost spilling water on her dress; dinner was served.

Well technically, breakfast was served.

The six of you sat around the dining table, nervously looking around. Mr. and Mrs. Hart looked at the food in confusion, staring at the cooked bacon and eggs paired with the red wine and chocolate covered strawberries.

"Breakfast for dinner?" Mr, Hart began, with obvious judgement written all over his face. "How very-" "European." Mrs. Hart cut him off, smiling reassuringly at the two of you.

"European?" You muttered, glancing at Wanda in confusion, who then motioned her hand in a 'I'll tell you later' sort of way. "Oh, let's have a toast!" Vision began, raising his glass up. All of you followed suite as Vision continued.

"To my lovely and talented wife," he gloated, unable to take his eyes off her.

"And to our esteemed guests," Wanda added. You didn't miss the wink she threw at you and Natasha, causing the two of you to stifle your laughs. Everyone clinked their glasses together and dug into their food. It wasn't long after when the questioning began.

"So, where did you move from?" Mrs. Hart began, "what brought you here? How long have you been married? And why don't you have children yet?" She interrogated Wanda and Vision, and you glanced over at Natasha, hesitantly, who shrugged in response before continuing to eat her food. Her eyes then met Mr. Hart's, who's eyebrows were furrowed at the interaction, waiting for his wife to finish speaking so he could say something. You didn't notice Wanda struggling to answer the questions being thrown, while Vision looked at Wanda desperately waiting for an answer. It was almost as if the two of them didn't know themselves.

You also failed to notice Wanda zoning out of the conversation, staring off into the distance as Mrs. Hart continued pestering her for answers. "And what about the two of you, huh? You two roommates?" Mr. Hart questioned, noticing how closely seated you were next to Natasha.

"Something like that," Natasha responded, biting back the smirk that was fighting it's way onto her lips.

"Two lovely women such as yourselves shouldn't struggle to find a man. Why don't the two of you have husbands yet?" Mr. Hart asked, leaning forward. You felt the hair in your arms rise as you realised where the conversation was leading. Glancing at Natasha nervously, you noticed how her fingers were clenched around her cutlery.

"We just prefer each other's company," you stated simply, shoving a forkful of eggs into your mouth to distract yourself.

"What do you mean? Are you- that's unnatural!" He ranted. You ignored him, noticing that Wanda was still trying to answer questions about her and Visions marriage.

"Yes, yes, we were married in," Wanda paused, getting lost in her thoughts. Mr. Hart continued his rant to you and Natasha as You, Vision and Natasha glanced at Wanda nervously.

"You're both women! That's wrong!" Mr Hart argues.

"Well, what's your story?" Mrs. Hart questions Wanda.

Mr. Hart began shouting, slamming his fist onto the table as Mrs. Hart continued to grill Wanda for answers. Wanda snaps back into reality due to a sudden, unexpected noise. She turned to face Mr. Hart who began to choking. You stared at Natasha, frightened and unsure as of what to do in this situation.

"Oh, Arthur, stop it!" Mrs. Hart laughed. She repeated the words 'stop it' over and over again, her tone gradually becoming more panicked as her husband continued to choke. His hand rested on his throat. Vision stared at Mr. Hart in an unsure manner, his hands resting against the table almost as if the were pinned against it. You only just noticed how Mrs. Hart turned to Wanda as she continued repeating those same words.

"Stop it," she pleaded, her voice shaking as she looked at Wanda, who was staring at Mr. Hart in shock. Mr. Hart fell off his chair and onto the ground as he continued to choke. You wanted to rush over and help him but it felt as though your hands were bound to the table and you couldn't move your legs. You were only able to watch as the man continued to choke while his wife chuckled.

"Stop it."

"Vision, help him," Wanda demanded. Vision rushed out of his seat and next to Mr. Hart, phasing his hand through his throat and removing a whole chocolate covered strawberry.

When did Mr. Hart pick up the strawberry? You thought to yourself.

"Let me help you up," Vision offers, helping Mr. Hart back to his feet. The atmosphere in the room had immediately changed, going back to exactly how it was before. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped and everyone forgot what was happening.

"Would you look at the time!" Mr. Hart exclaimed making his way to the door as his wife followed behind him.

"Well," Wanda started, "are you both alright?" she questioned nervously, as she stood up. "Yes, we better be going. We had such a lovely time!" Mrs. Hart reassured. The couple left the house very abruptly, mentioning something about a promotion before exiting the front door.

"Oh, we must be going as well!" Natasha exclaims, pushing herself up out of her seat before saying goodbye to the two. She hugged them both before making her way out of the door. You hugged Vision and thanked him for having you over before making your way to Wanda.

"Tonight was wonderful, Wanda," you reassured, pulling her into a hug. You felt her shoulders slacken in your arms, sighing softly as she returned your embrace before pulling away from you, her arms resting on your shoulders.

"Thank you, thank you for everything."

As the two of you made your way home, you couldn't help but let Mr. Hart's words play on repeat in your mind. You could tell Natasha knew what was bugging you as she squeezed your hand gently. The two of you continued to hold hands as you made your way home.

"I know we can't get married," you started, as you stood in your living room, staring at the woman who made you feel most at home. She nodded, waiting for you to continue as she rested her hand against your cheek, allowing her thumb to gently stroke your face.

"But I just want you to know that I'm here for you. For better or for worse. I never want to be apart from you," you chuckled softly, staring at her in awe, allowing your eyes to glance at her lips before you looked back into her eyes.

"I know, моя любовь. And I'd do anything for you," Natasha began.

"Even die for you."

natasha romanoff taglist: @blackxwidowsxwife @severepeanutartisanhands @madamevirgo @starsvck @umsolikeblog @baddecisions-png @yourmcu

all works: @teenwonder @amourtentiaa @husherstan @peggycarter-steverogers

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imagining-in-the-margins · 3 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 23 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer’s birthday plans get interrupted by a case. Frustrated by Reader’s busy schedule, Spencer finds a unique way to spend time with her. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Mild exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Dom/sub, light choking, degradation/praise, sub space Word Count: 7.3k

MASTERLIST

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Waiting for Spencer Reid was an interesting position to be in. It was also, unfortunately, very, very common. You would think the IQ points would translate to efficiency, but you’d be very wrong. The only thing that boy does fast is read, and even that didn’t follow through to text messages, considering he’d read none of the six I’d sent him in the past hour.

So, naturally, as one does in an emergency, I called him. Unsurprisingly, the phone barely rang a second time before he picked up. Talking was, as we were both aware, his forte. Without even waiting for my greeting, his groggy voice came through the receiver with a song-like sound.

“Hello, little girl.”

But it wasn’t his turn to sing, and he knew damn well why I was calling. I could hear the smirk on his face so well that I could also envision exactly what he looked like in that moment, with his fluffy hair sticking up from constantly running his hands through it and his eyes only half-open as he tried to finish reading whatever horrible thing that he had in front of him.

It wasn’t how anyone should be spending their birthday. Especially not him. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear the exhaustion and sadness behind that scratchy voice.

“What’re you doing up late? It’s past your bedtime, you know,” he chastised before I even had a chance to speak. He wasn’t wrong — It was 3AM where I was. But where he was, it’d just hit midnight.

“I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my favorite old man,” I purred back once I’d managed to calm my fast-beating heart. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the brief rush of adrenaline and relief when I heard his voice for the first time after some time away.

I hoped not.

Spencer didn’t seem impressed by my reasoning, though. “You’re sweet. Go to sleep.”

“You’re up, too,” I whined, still picturing the way he would undoubtedly pull the phone further away to lessen the noise. I almost asked if he was also picturing me but stopped when I realized that whatever he had in mind was probably a lot more exciting than reality. Then again, he often told me that moments like this were his favorite. When we’re both too tired to keep our eyes open but too happy to be with each other to let them close all the way.

“Barely,” he corrected.

“Besides, I had to stay up. It’s your birthday.”

I’d meant to lift his spirits, but the long pause after I finished made it evident that my efforts were for naught. He almost seemed even more upset than when he’d answered, and I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that hard, considering he was probably staring at images or words of dead people.

“Yeah, sure feels like it.”

His tone alone ensured me it was worse than my imagination.

“Put your work down and pay attention to me instead,” I suggested as softly as I could with the neediness bleeding through, “That’s the first part of your present.”

“You’re my present?” he asked through a gruff laugh that made my heart skip a beat, “I like that present.”

He was trying. I could feel it in his voice, and I wished more than anything that I could teleport to where he was and hold him until it was too difficult for his mouth to form a frown.

“You already have me. That’d be like regifting,” I pointed out with only a pinch of self-deprecation. It was still too much for Spencer, though, who swiftly shot back the ever cheesy, “Every day with you is a gift.”

“Gross, don’t get all sentimental with me,” I ordered playfully.

He returned the energy with all the sass I always knew he was capable of. Once his whining ceased, he mumbled, “Do you come with a gift receipt?”

“No returns or exchanges allowed, I’m afraid.”

Spencer just let out a strained sigh, and in my head, I imagined how it would feel to climb onto his lap as he leaned back in his chair. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around my waist and his lips peppering kisses wherever he could reach. I could feel his love for me flowing across the country, persisting past the cell tower obstacles to make its way back to me.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered, his first purely sincere statement of the night.

It was an unfortunate choice, too, because it also reminded me of the biggest bummer that I unfortunately had to share.

“Oh, I meant to tell you, it’s midterm season, so…”

He was, thankfully, not as bummed as I was expecting. He was almost certainly thrilled to have a chance to sleep spread out on his bed without having to satisfy the very needy girl beside him, but he still managed to come up with enough bratty energy to scoff, “Are you telling me that I don’t get my gift when I get home?”

“It’ll just be a few days. Promise,” I spoke through the biggest, cheesiest smile I’d had yet. “You’re very distracting, Dr. Reid.”

“When are your exams?” His enthusiasm gave away just how disappointed he was with the news, but any frustration was clearly aimed at my poor professors.

“My last one is on Wednesday.”

The gasp that left him was too funny not to laugh, followed by exasperated, blubbered nonsense that didn’t ever get much clearer. I barely managed to understand him when he cried, “Don’t they know Halloween should be a national holiday?!”

“You should call my professors and yell at them.”

He actually considered it for a moment, but then returned the same silly intonation, “Maybe I will.”

“Do it. You’re probably more qualified than them to teach me, anyway.”

After a short silence that was filled with more sexual tension than I’d expected considering how the phone call started, I heard Spencer gruffly comment, “You’re a cocky little brat tonight.”

It was so familiar to me that I jumped on the opportunity, giggling through my sleep deprived delirium, “I’m in rare form for your birthday.”

The explanation earned me a chuckle, but not much else. At least, not that I could see. The static on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like the way it looked when Spencer leaned his face against his palm and tried to see something that wasn’t there.

But I was there. Sort of. We’d done a lot more with a lot less, after all. So, that’s what I offered him.

“You know… we could have a redo of the last time I called you late at night on a case.”

“That did not end well for me last time,” he droned. I tried not to laugh at the manufactured memory of Spencer holed up in a hotel bathroom because he just had to have me in whatever way he could.

“Only happy endings for your birthday. I promise.”

But then, as it always did, work got in the way. Filled with only the greatest sadness and regret, Spencer quietly but honestly replied, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it’ll be possible on this case.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Unfortunately.”

I bit my lip because there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help Spencer with his work any more than I could fix the distance. All I could offer him was a safe home to return to. He would always find that with me.

“Well, in that case, I will be equipped with cartoons and kisses upon your return,” I offered with grace.

But I wasn’t the only one in rare form. Without skipping a beat, Spencer corrected with a smug sadness, “You mean your return. Considering you’re abandoning me on my birthday.”

“Oh my god, the drama!” I cried before remembering that it was, still, in fact, 3AM. The light grimace I gave after remembering would be the only apology my neighbors would get from me. I was too busy building a narrative happy enough to drown out the horrors in front of him. “You’d think I was the one who was away all the time.”

“I’m allowed to be selfish; it’s my birthday,” he sang, and I soaked in the sound, storing it away for any rainy days.

“Fine. What do you want, brat?” I asked in the worst attempt at an impression I’d ever given.

He was just waiting for the question. Drawing out the first couple of syllables, he laughed through the stupidest birthday wish of all time.

“I want… you to go to bed.”

“Ugh!” I yelled again, not even bothering to feel bad about it that time. My exasperation fell on deaf ears, both from a willful desire to ignore my suffering and a literal ringing from the constant yelling.

Still, that impossible man drummed up enough compassion to gloat with a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, jerk,” I grumbled, only to be swiftly corrected with a playful, “Try that again.”

“I love you, too, old man.”

He was satisfied enough with that answer, despite the sarcasm dripping from it. He still knew that the words were true, and that was all that mattered. Any punishments that might be necessary for my broken promise to behave for his birthday could always be doled out later. When the distance between us was narrowed to inches and clothes could be removed like cheap wrapping paper.

“Thank you, little girl. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, reminding me once more of just how empty my bed felt without him. I stared at his pillow for just one second before I threw myself into it. He chuckled at the sound of rustling sheets over the receiver but said nothing else.

“You get some sleep tonight, too, okay?” I asked, uncharacteristically and openly vulnerable in a way that used to scare me.

Spencer’s voice was filled with pride and love as he answered, “You can’t see it, but I am giving you a pinky promise.”

“Good.” Burying my face in his pillow again made it easier to remember that it wouldn’t be forever when I said, “Bye, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, little girl.”

—————————————————

Autumn on campus felt pretty similar to the rest of the year. I wished that it were different, a little more exciting, to reflect how I felt about the impending holiday. But no, it was just students stumbling into their usual classes and hectically scheduled midterms with hangovers and a total lack of holiday cheer.

It was, in a few words, a complete bummer. The only thing that kept me going through the last of my exams was the knowledge that I’d be seeing Spencer. Unfortunately, he was still doing that rather annoying thing where he refused to answer my text messages. It wasn’t until he ignored even my most ridiculous threats that I realized something was going on.

The ‘Read’ notification sat menacingly on my screen, and I was so fixated on it that I almost didn’t notice the familiar mop of brown curls visible in the front row of the auditorium. But once I saw it, the phone was forgotten faster than ever before. I ran down the steps at a ridiculously dangerous pace, dodging the others still grumbling from their previous exams.

I landed in front of him with only enough breath left to sneer, “You’re in my seat.”

“Surprise,” he said with my favorite smug, self-assured smile.

“Adorable. Now move,” I ordered with a wave of my hand. As much as I loved the guy, I wasn’t about to change my seating arrangement for him. It was beginning to make sense, though, why my friend told me that she wouldn’t be sitting with me today.

“Fine,” he sighed, taking his sweet time moving seats and watching me happily bounce on my feet in the meantime. I snuck behind him into the seat before he’d even fully stood up. That little amount of friction between our bodies seemed to be enough to cause the tension to mount. It’d only been seconds, but I was already seriously considering abandoning the class. To hell with the professor who’d already seen me.

But Spencer’s eyes locked on mine, and he leaned onto the armrest with that same silly smirk.

“It’s a workday, Dr. Reid,” I whispered, forcing my arm next to his and watching the way his pupils grew as I came closer.

“I might have pulled a few strings,” he replied just as quietly, keeping the illusion of secrecy despite many prying eyes around us, “Might’ve told Hotch I was invited.”

“But you weren’t,” I snorted.

Spencer’s head hung in just a little bit of shame, but his wide smile never waned. It was still there, bright and pure in its simplicity as he softly admitted, “Yeah. I lied. But I’m here now.”

There were no complaints about that fact, either. His pinky reached out to mine, twining together in the dim light of the auditorium. Somehow, for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. The noisy chatter meant nothing to me, the two of us lost in some alternate pocket universe that felt safe and warm from the cold air outside.

But time resumed, and I watched as Spencer took his eyes off of me first, turning instead to the lecturer watching us with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Good morning everyone! We have a special guest with us today.”

I wanted to pay attention to his little introduction, but I couldn’t. Every word that was said about him sounded so clinical. It felt so empty compared to the truth I knew about him. He was so much more than a collection of publications and PhDs.

He was… indescribable. Even as his mouth formed a flat line and his awkward handshake was granted to the crowds of disinterested students, all I saw was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if it was only from the shadows of his greatness. Then again, I don’t think he’d ever let me feel that way.

Speaking of…

"Dr. Reid, the only thing I ask is for you to give these wonderful students a chance to show you what they know,” my professor started with a laugh before he so kindly continued, “So go easy on them."

In any other situation, I might have let it slide. I would have accepted the fact that Spencer was far beyond my intellect and not stand up for myself. But this time, Spencer was on my turf.

"All due respect to Dr. Reid, I don't think he needs to go easy on us,” I called from the front row, only audible to the other dutiful students that cared enough to sit up front. I heard Spencer laugh beside me, shaking his head just a little bit at the challenge. He didn’t say anything though, and I returned my eyes to the professor who was already familiar with my antics as I boasted, "At least not on me."

While Spencer caught on to the fairly obvious double entendre, shifting his crossed legs closer, the professor just wrote it off as my usual academic pride.

“I did try to warn you that that one might get competitive,” he commented. At this point, everyone had definitely figured out my relation to the man next to me. It was kind of hard to hide a bullet wound from your school. But again, I was so caught up in the man beside me that I didn’t even feel a little shame at their playful teasing.

Spencer’s commentary was the only thing that mattered, and he gave it with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not offended at all. I'm sure she's very clever."

The little bit of light left in the room started to fade, and once I was shrouded by the shadows, I felt confident enough in my plan to dig through the bag at my feet to pull out probably the nerdiest item in it.

A fucking back-up clicker. Which, I promptly handed to the man beside me.

“You’re in seat B4,” I whispered gruffly, earning yet another snarky chuckle from my boyfriend.

“Is that a challenge?”

I didn’t answer. Not him, anyway. What I did answer was the question that had appeared on the screen.

“Ms. (Y/n)?” My professor called, recognizing my seat number without even looking up.

Luckily for me, today was nothing but a review day of the midterm I’d already taken. While I knew all of the questions and, what I’d hoped were the right answers, Spencer had to read the questions from scratch. Really, it didn’t give me an edge. It just put us on equal playing ground.

As I gave my answer, I watched in my peripherals as Spencer’s eyes narrowed and tongue peeked out from lips that I still hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss today.

It was a bad thing to think about, because my brief reverie of the things that mouth was capable of reminded me of another one. I didn’t even notice another question had appeared on the screen, and when I heard the familiar buzz of an attempted answer, I shared my Professor’s temporary confusion.

“Ah, Dr. Reid,” he laughed, probably already regretting welcoming the bastard here, “Please explain the answer.”

But there was another thing working in my favor: My boyfriend’s giant fucking ego. Really, it should be impossible that someone who was normally super insecure could enjoy showing off as much as he did. My professor didn’t mind, because Spencer’s long-winded answer was a wonderful review of… basically the entire course, and I didn’t mind because it granted me the one thing I needed.

Time. Time to slowly remove my jacket and reveal the sweater underneath. Spencer’s eyes caught the motion, glancing over only a couple of times while he managed to give his answer. It wasn’t until I started to remove the sweater that he cut his answer short.

His throat clearing told me he wanted my attention, but I was still just too distracted for him. I fanned my chest that felt warm for reasons other than the temperature of the room, guaranteeing his eyes would stay there long enough for me to catch the next question before he had a chance.

Or so I thought. Because before the question appeared, I made the positively stupid mistake of meeting his gaze. As soon as I did, my mind was stuck there, drowning in molasses and honey and—

“Dr. Reid, please feel free to continue to do my job for me. Lord knows I would love a break,” the professor joked, and I almost felt guilty for just how genuine he sounded. Not like Spencer would have noticed passive aggression if it existed.

Not like either of us would have cared. Per usual, we were so lost in the space of B4 and B5 that we didn’t care about the rest of the alphabet. All we cared about was winning. It was growing more and more obvious to me, though, that I would have to become a little more ruthless if I wanted to bring down the bona fide genius.

The sound of his voice rang through the auditorium loud, clear, and confident. He didn’t need to worry if he was right or not, because he knew he was. The smugness was grating to my ears. I knew I couldn’t trick him into making a mistake, but there was one thing I could do.

I’d learned one thing very well in my time with Spencer, and that was how to manipulate that pretty little voice of his.

For example, if I wanted to hear it catch in his throat and come out a few pitches higher, all I would have to do is touch him. The riskier the touch, the higher his voice would go. Which was why I spread out the jacket over my lap, making sure that our legs were close enough that it covered him, too. Then I waited, calmly and kindly listening to him drone along until there was a natural enough inflection to hide evidence of any nefarious actions. Just as his voice started to rise, I slid my hand over his knee.

Spencer barely stuttered, just enough for me to know he was affected, but not enough for anyone else to notice. He took the loss with grace, quickly ending his answer with a summary that contained only half as many words as he would have normally provided.

He kept a few for me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shifting close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my ear.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I hummed. His breath caught again when I began stroking my thumb over his leg that had just started to bounce.

“This is wildly inappropriate.”

“How perceptive,” I returned with my own little smirk. The interaction caught us both, trapping us in the alternate dimension that existed when we held each other. His hand found its way to mine, and his thumb brushed over the back and sent goosebumps shooting over my skin.

I’d practically abandoned our pursuits altogether when I heard my friend’s voice as she took the question that we’d both missed. I should’ve been upset for losing after all that I’d gone through for my strategy to succeed, but it was hard to feel anything other than butterflies when Spencer was still looking at me like that.

Even when I looked away, he stayed, patiently waiting for me to take the final question in the review. I granted him a chance to take it, but he just shook his head, implicitly asking me to take the win for the both of us. Even when we were competing, we were always on the same team.

There were no more distractions as I explained the answer as simply as I could. I was positive the rest of the class was tired of hearing our voices, but Spencer never stopped smiling. I could feel the pride rolling off of him, his hand growing tighter around mine as he took in a deep breath.

“Very good, (y/n),” my professor announced, signaling the end and initiating a large sigh of relief from everyone else.

Spencer sighed too, although his was with a different kind of relief; a dreamy, soft sound as he muttered under his breath, “Just like I said. Very clever.”

The air felt positively electric, and I never hated my class more than I did in that moment. The rest of the period ticked by so slowly that I almost swore the clocks were broken. Once we were allowed to leave, Spencer insisted on sticking around to thank the professor for his hospitality.

I knew it was necessary, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I tried to be as patient as possible, even though it seemed pointless. Spencer’s little grin told me he knew very well what he was doing. The conversation had dragged on for practically five minutes of agony while I idled by the door.

But then my professor passed, and I felt the adrenaline course through my veins in seconds. As anticipated, we didn’t even make it out of the building before the tension broke. We’d barely even made it down the goddamn hallway before I shoved his scrawny ass into the first empty classroom I found. Once the door clicked shut behind us, the roles were quickly reversed.

I hadn’t seen him that excited in so long that I’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in his undertow. I couldn’t keep track of his hands or his mouth as they marked any bare skin they could find. But no matter how frantic and uncoordinated the movements were, they never ceased to send chills down my spine.

“This is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Reid,” I managed to slur between sloppy, heated kisses. It was barely comprehensible through the pent-up lust that had driven us there in the first place, but it still felt worth saying.

Spencer, however, made his feelings very clear with a gruff, forceful, “I don’t care.”

His hands were already roaming over my hips, pulling me so close to the edge that I nearly fell off the counter entirely. While I was laughing at his haste, he was busy leaving angry marks on my collarbone, pulling the top of my shirt down to grant him more access. And despite how badly my body burned with desire and need, I drummed up just enough self-preservation to force out a few, regrettable words.

“Take me home.”

Even though I tried to make it sound more seductive than a normal request to stop, it brought the momentum to a halt. Spencer immediately stopped his kisses, but let his hands continue to stroke loving patterns over the sides of my thighs.

“Don’t you have other classes?” he asked. The feeling of his breath against my ears making me second-guess my already voiced decision. But as enticing as the idea was of having him now, having already waited over a week, I knew we could have so much more fun with a little bit of privacy.

“Don’t you have work?” I teased, hoping that it would spur him to take the action we both knew was safer. At the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to poke fun at the academic in him.

“Unless this is your way of telling me you've always wanted to fuck a girl in a lab because, I must admit I'd be more than happy to oblige."

Spencer’s whole body tensed as he imagined just what it would feel like to take me in such a public place. After a couple seconds that I can only imagine were filled with fantasies and a reasonable fear, he pulled me from my seat on the counter and placed me back on the ground.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me by my wrist towards the door.

I only barely managed to stop him with both hands on his arm. He turned back to look at me like I’d done some horrible thing, but I was too busy trying to stop the laughter that was spilling from my chest.

“You’re uh—” I cleared my throat, pointing to the very noticeable tent in his slacks before I keened through the giggles, “You’re gonna have to do something about that.”

With a quick glance down, Spencer remembered the very unfortunately obvious trait of the male anatomy. “Fuck,” he stated plainly.

I couldn’t resist.

“I mean, I’m down,” I joked one final time.

“Shut up!” Spencer laughed, too, trying and failing to adjust himself in his pants while I just enjoyed the show.

After all, we both knew that once we were alone, he would get a reprieve from my ridicule. He would get whatever he wanted.

—————————————————

The chaotic clashing of hands and mouths continued seconds after we’d reached our destination. The empty apartment had all of the sounds of our desperation echoing back to us, and after soaking in the melodious noise for a few seconds, I snapped back to reality.

“Okay, she doesn’t get home for another 30 minutes at the earliest so, we’d better hurry,” I urged, trying to shove Spencer off of me to convince him to move. It barely worked, with his arms clutching tighter the harder I struggled to get away.

Wrapped together just like that, the two of us barely made it a few feet before we almost tumbled to the ground. That was just enough of a reminder of our lack of coordination for Spencer to finally, begrudgingly, release me. Kind of. His hand still held tight to mine, and our laughter still combined the whole way to our bed.

From there, Spencer felt confident in our privacy to answer, “That’s fine. I usually tear open my gifts pretty quickly.”

It was a very good metaphor for the way his hands worked over my clothes. I didn’t even try to pinpoint the moment where being naked no longer made me feel nervous. I let the scar tissue show because neither of us were going to look at it, anyway. We were too caught up in the slight shifts and nuances of our faces as we rushed towards our one mutual goal.

“I missed you,” I mumbled, the words feeling as natural as breathing itself.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, and I felt the raw emotion, the sincerity and desire in every syllable. But once it was over and he had finally managed to remove everything but my underwear, all that was left was an all-encompassing, mind-altering level of lust.

“God, watching you in class was so fucking frustrating,” he strained, his upper lip curling with disdain as he watched my body squirm against the sheets.

“Why’s that?”

“I wanted you so badly.”

There was no denying that it was the honest truth, and I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to gloat and bask in the confirmation that his presence was dangerous for my academic career. Not to mention my sanity.

“Like I said. You’re very distracting.”

Then, to prove my point, that brilliant bastard shoved his hand under the band of my underwear. He only held me softly for one second before he slid his fingers through the slickness and thrust them roughly into me. It hadn’t been that long, but the emptiness I felt before was even more apparent now that I had any part of him inside of me again.

“Am I?” he chimed with a smile.

I wanted to be bratty, to fight the tension that was building and appear unfazed by his ministrations, but there was simply no pretending. Not when my body was already on the verge of spasming around his fingers that seemed to stroke the perfect place within me with every movement.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed. I should’ve known better than to give him ammunition.

“You’ve resorted to blasphemy already?”

Spencer partnered the tease with a ruthless thrust, burying his fingers to the knuckle inside of me and holding them there. He waited until I ran out of breath and struggled to take another while also trying not to scream in a mixture of frustration and devastating need for more.

“I thought I told you we had to hurry?”

“We’ve got time,” he shot back without pause, “You’re just being a needy little brat.”

“Yes, I am,” I whined just as quickly, “I’m a fucking brat and I need you.”

He almost seemed disappointed in my compliance. His fingers began moving again, eliciting noises that were louder, higher, and sweeter after the anticipation. He tried to draw the attitude out of me by stopping again, waiting for a quip that didn’t come.

“Awww, no fight?” he cooed.

“I can’t. It’s your birthday,” I grumbled before biting my tongue. The pressure was becoming so unbearable I thought I might honestly draw blood. But after another few seconds of torture that felt like a lifetime, Spencer withdrew his hand completely.

He was testing the limits, watching how far I would let him go before begging. But even when he took the same soaked fingers and began rubbing me from the outside of my underwear, I only opened my mouth to steal quick, soft breaths and give pitiful whines.

“Oh, I like this…” he laughed, apparently having gotten past his concern about my sudden compliance, “I could get used to you behaving.”

The song-like cadence got to me, threatening to spark and ignite everything I was holding back. I almost bit back. I almost let the desire scorch my throat with a few choice words for the very rude genius, but I didn’t. The only thing that stopped me was the feel of cotton sliding down my thighs as he removed the final barrier between us.

“You’d miss my misbehaving,” I said with a chuckle. The sound mixed with another, a deep moan that filled my chest when I felt him press himself against my entrance. My back arched, causing him to slip inside of me just enough for us to both lose our words.

“I don’t know…”

If I’d wanted to say anything, my mouth wouldn’t have let me. It was too busy singing his praise while simultaneously begging him to silence it. My lips floundered for a kiss that he hung just far enough away from me to deny. Satisfaction was painted over every feature as he started to enter me, brushing his lips against my mouth every few seconds just to pull away before I was granted the intimacy I sought.

“You do look rather cute when you’re begging.”

It was strange, the way my body started to predict his movements. I met him in the middle of every motion, and I swore even our breath became synchronized in its rapid firing. It wasn’t until his hand rested over my throat we broke the rhythm. I wasn’t going to complain, letting the energy flow down my spine that arched towards him on instinct. His hips never stopped, and I could tell by the way his breath hitched and his fingers grew tighter around my neck that the new angle was as wonderful for him as it was for me.

“You look so sweet when you let go of every ounce of self-preservation and dignity you have and put your life in my hands,” he whispered with an affection that almost seemed odd considering the context. But then there was something else in his moans, a genuine gentleness that made my already arrhythmic heart beat faster.

“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he asked as his movements stayed calm and careful. Loving and safe.

I didn’t even notice my eyes had closed, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Because when I opened them, I saw the same man that existed in every image behind my eyelids. The only indication he got that I was still capable of communication was the gentle curve of my lips that dropped open in a pleased sigh as his hips continued a slow, tender pace.

It still felt like too much, but not in a bad way. It was too much in the sense that I was reminded once again just how ruined he’d made me. And the smug little shit knew it, too.

“You don’t have a single thought in that pretty little head, do you?” he cooed, dragging his hand up the column of my throat to force his fingers against my tongue. True to my word, I didn’t try to fight back. I soaked the digits that still tasted like me with my jaw left open. His pupils dilated as he watched the spit pool in my mouth that awaited his instruction.

“You just want to be used. Like the perfect little doll you are.”

Unlike my own, his smile was more of a smirk. A crooked, ever so slightly wicked quirk that made my muscles tense around him in their own version of an affirmative answer. He took it, happily. His body crashed into mine, but it merely felt like an extension of myself returning home like the waves meeting the shore. I could feel him claiming his rightful place at the deepest parts of me, making his home with every powerful motion of his hips.

I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I didn’t want to. It felt unnecessary.

“My sweet little girl,” he muttered with an unbelievably chaste kiss in the center of my forehead, “You’d do anything to make your daddy happy.”

I felt detached from myself in a way that didn’t feel me with fear or pain. I could feel myself through his hands, strong and working the pliable flesh of my thighs as he held them up so that he could drive into me harder.

His eyes, also only half open, burned with intensity. I could feel the determination, the undying desire to grant me a serenity that no one else could. His need for me to feel safe and loved with the seemingly contradictory brutality.

But it wasn’t contradictory. The power behind every movement, the insistence on being as close to me as he possibly could, might have caused some physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of sharing this space with him. Of sharing my body with him just to see what he would do with it. I already knew, but I wanted to feel it again and again. Because with each stroke of his hand and thrust of his hips, I felt it.

Spencer had free rein to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to love me.

“I’m so close. You know what I want,” he pleaded despite holding all of the power. He handed it to me with a low groan, trying to kiss my lips while he commanded, “Do it. Come for me.”

My body obeyed his command, falling to pieces around him with shockwaves breaking over every inch of me. My vision went white, crafting a halo of light around him as he also found himself reaching a peak that seemed different than the times we’d shared before.

I tried to figure out what had changed, what about this time made it unique. But as the euphoria faded, all I saw staring back at me was the same face as always, radiating a joy and understanding that warmed damp, chilly skin. Spencer’s release provided a similar warmth within me, and my body clung to him even tighter despite the exhaustion.

My breathing took its time to even out, but I was in no rush to leave him. I would have stayed like that forever, with Spencer covering me like the silliest, boniest blanket. If it wasn’t for the dead weight he eventually dropped on me, we probably would’ve spent the whole day lost in the covers. But he could thank the scars for me being a little less forgiving.

Of course, thankful is not the word to describe him at all. Whiny was more like it. Even as I turned our bodies together so that I would still be sitting on his lap, he did nothing but groan and bitch about it. That is, until I silenced him with a kiss that barely brushed over his lips.

That was enough to turn his frown back to the dopey smile I loved so much.

“Happy birthday, old man,” I purred, enjoying the way his hands grabbed me tighter at the loving nickname. But age wasn’t what was on his mind. I could see it in the way his eyes tore past my defenses and he held me closer like we could actually become one if he tried hard enough.

“I’m so in love with you, it’s infuriating,” he whispered.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Spencer wasn’t in a joking mood, though. All of his humor seemed to be expended earlier in the day, and now he was just left with all the mushy, romantic innards that I normally kept at bay.

It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought as his hands framed my face so our foreheads would touch. There were worse things to be trapped with.

“It’s true,” he mumbled with his voice still high and slurred together, “I look at you and there is just… nothing that can be said that would ever explain the way it feels.”

“Gross,” I joked.

“Get used to it,” he returned. And if that wasn’t enough to make me laugh, he stuck his tongue out in the most childish display I’d seen from him since he’d fucking licked my hand on our picnic. It was also just charming enough that I was willing to let the sappy stuff slide.

“I’ll be nice to you this time,” I grumbled. “But also, speaking of time, you’d better hurry up if you don’t want to do the walk of shame with an audience.”

Spencer’s arms fell limp with a dramatic cry before he used them to cover his face once more.

“Ugh. Go,” he ordered. Despite his words, he still made me fight against greedy hands to wrestle my way out of bed. It would have been smarter to let me go quickly. I really don’t know what he was thinking, but he would learn his mistake soon enough. Because as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard a very amused voice chiming down the hall on the other side of the door.

“Good afternoon, Spencer.”

I debated not opening the door and freeing Spencer from the unbelievably uncomfortable position he’d just found himself in, but ultimately decided it was too cruel. Still, the stalling had taken up enough time that the poor guy felt compelled to reply.

And, of course, the only thing he could think to say was a pathetic, high pitched, “Hi.”

Somehow managing to contain the absolutely riotous laughter I felt in my gut, I opened the door with the straightest face I could muster.

It wasn’t enough. Spencer saw the pleasure I took in his humiliation and practically shoved me out of the bathroom to take my place behind the doors. While I found the action endearing in the most awkward way, my roommate was mostly just confused about how the fuck I’d managed to find someone as stupid as me.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she said once she managed to smile at the silly situation.

Clearing my throat, I tried to sound sincere in my bullshit apology. “Me either, sorry.”

In a way, I think the fact I couldn’t pull myself together worked in my favor. Normally, she would have scolded me (albeit playfully) for not alerting her of what she might be walking in on, but this time, she just tried to withhold the smile that still stretched over her cheeks despite her best efforts.

“You’re fine,” she sighed, giving in to the desire to go against her usual grumpy demeanor before retreating to her own room. “Have fun, you hooligans.”

Once her door clicked shut, I heard shuffling on the other side of the door next to me. Spencer’s shadow was visible from the light peeking out underneath, and I waited a few more restless seconds before I announced, “You can come out now, Spencer.”

Cautiously, the door creaked open just enough for his head to poke out and confirm that I wasn’t trying to trick him.

“I’ve never been a hooligan before,” he said with a bounce in his step and his eyebrows halfway up his face. To think that he was the same man who threatened to arrest me for existing at a nightclub was, in a word, hilarious.

“Well, good news for you,” I purred, and the sound must have reminded him of my more devilish nature, because his jubilance quickly shifted back to an obvious anxiety. I wrapped my arms around him even when it meant that his muscles tensed, dragging him down so I could whisper in his ear, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to help me play hooky.”

“And do what?”

It felt strange to say that I hadn’t really thought about it. That the second I’d seen him I knew that the day would be good and free and fun. That everything felt so perfectly fine that I didn’t even want to challenge it with a schedule.

Spencer looked at me, his answer apparent in the way he started to relax the longer we stayed wrapped up in a shitty apartment hallway. It didn’t matter what I said. Spencer would have followed me, just like I would have done for him.

And without the angst or uncertainty of what could go wrong, there was only one thing left for us to do. With a shrug and pout, I proposed the riskiest plan we’d had yet.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

| Finale |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #here to misbehave #h2m #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #reid series #spencer reid request #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #dr spencer reid #reid request

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pascalslittlebrat · 3 years

Text

What Hurts the Most~Epilogue

Rating: T

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Word Count: ~2000

Warnings: none honestly, this is just full on sweet fluff

A/N: I started this series in March in an attempt to process something very real and something very painful I went through. I went through this series having days where it mentally drained me to get such emotions out. I had days I didn’t even think I’d be able to give these two a happy ending. But here we are and I’m thankful for each sweet comment I’ve received that helped push me on to creating and finishing this off. I cannot deny I shed tears writing this, knowing after this long angsty journey that these two big dummies time has come to an end. I hope it touches y’alls hearts as much as it did mine xo

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Series Masterlist

Masterlist Taglist (if you signed up before please resign up if you haven’t google forms glitched and deleted responses)

Credit to @pajamasecrets for the Pedro gif

There’s a flash, blazing arcs in the sky before the explosion of light and color. There’s a sparkle of gold, red, and orange shimmering down after the pop before dimming, matching the scene projected on the castle in front of them. There’s the oohs and ahs of the crowd as they watch the scene in front of them change with the melody, clapping as more fireworks fill the sky, sometimes in multiple bursts, in flashes, or like a shooting star across the sky. The mixture of light and smoke to give each scene the ambience it needed to make you feel a part of it.

Children gasped, screaming out each character they saw in excitement, and he couldn’t deny it was a bit crowded in front of the castle for his liking but Marcus didn’t mind. Not when he had you in front of him looking like a child that was just handed the best gift on Christmas. Marcus watches as you look on in awe, the flash of each explosion making your sequined Mickey Mouse ears shimmer, reflecting the different colors lighting the sky.

You’re smiling up at the sky and in Marcus’ eyes shining almost as bright as the fireworks. You seemed to glow under the light and he couldn’t deny he was paying more attention to the beautiful sight of you in front of him than the show going on around you both. This was your favorite part of each visit and he loved the way you always reacted as if it was your first time, just as the children were. You were so at ease here, not afraid to let the childlike love you have for Disney come out when you both visited and he loved to watch it unfold.

Your reactions were as pure and excited as the kids watching the display and it tugged at something in his heart. It made him want to see this on repeat over and over again, these moments where you gave off so much warmth that he wanted to just hold you and soak it in. A memory, a piece of home, he can carry with him everywhere he went.

As Marcus watches you beam up at him, he couldn’t believe you were his, that he had been deemed worthy to have the love you had given him, to be able to share moments like this. You press your lips against him, smiling brightly as you wrap your arms around his neck, “I love you.”

His heart flutters, you were emitting so much happiness and love as you stared into his eyes that it practically took his breath away. “I love you too sweetheart,” he says against your lips before pressing another soft kiss to your lips.

You can’t help but grin against his soft lips, running a hand over scruff, feeling the most content you had in your life. You turn around to face the light show again, pressing your back against his chest, feeling a fluttering in your heart as you feel his hand on your hip, keeping you close. You can’t help but take in the moment, feeling lucky to have someone like Marcus that didn’t mind going to parks like this with you even when you were both in your thirties.

Marcus smiles to himself, glad you were so focused on the fireworks and music that you hadn’t noticed the way he was starting to shift side to side from his nerves, hand in his pocket fidgeting with the velvet pouch that felt heavier than it truly was. The show would only last so much longer and then the time would come, the moment he had planned. He watches you sing along to the songs, chuckling as you sing off key. It reminded him of the moments you used to be afraid to sing around him, when you both had first become friends, when you’d turn to look out his window during car drives to hum to yourself. He hold back a laugh at the fond memory, feeling his nerves calming some as he thinks of all you both had gone through, how you both were here at this point. A moment he had been waiting for after the year you both had spent truly together.

He takes a deep breath wrapping an arm around your waist, leaning down to lay his head on your shoulder, just a few more minutes. He closes his eyes, smiling as he listens to your voice, he starts swaying you both back and forth, feeling himself visibly relax as he inhales the soft scent of your shampoo and perfume. Marcus chuckles as the castle turns purple and blue, you starting to belt out “Love is an Open Door”, the music trails off and everyone aws as the castle changes color again, a projection of Simba and Nala coming across it and Marcus immediately knows exactly what song is to come, excitement running through him.

You let out a soft squeak as Marcus turns you around to face him, a lopsided grin on his face that makes your heart race as he looks down at you in admiration. The start of “Can you Feel the Love Tonight” begins to play and you burst into laughter as Marcus reaches up to cup your cheek, “Can you feeeel the love tonighttttt, you needn’t look farrr” he belts out closing his eyes and swaying you both. You join him, not caring as people look at you both sing. He spins you around the crowded area making you giggle.

“Cause you'll be in my heart, yes, you'll be in my heart,” Marcus continues to sing as the song changes. He pulls you back against him, arm around your waist, moving you both side to side. Something about his own off key notes and the extra dramatics he was adding, had you smiling so big you felt like your cheeks would be hurting. It made you feel like a love struck teenager. “From this day on, now and forever more, you'll be in my heart,” you both sing, both of your hands coming up to your mouths like imaginary microphones.

Marcus can’t help but laugh before bowing to you and giving you one last spin. He pulls you flush against him and your eyes twinkling under the fireworks and he knows that though he should still be feeling his nerves, that he wouldn’t choose any other moment than this. He presses a kiss to your forehead, before turning you back around to face the castle again. He nips at your shoulder and you turn to face him shaking your head as you give him a bemused expression, “What was that?”

“That’s how lions say I love you,” Marcus answers, watching as you turn around and get on your tippy toes.

“I’ll bite you later and show you how much I do too then my lion,” you say into his ear, before pressing a kiss to his neck, giving him a cheshire smile and turning back around. Marcus feels a shiver run down his spine, thinking of just what you both will have to celebrate once the show is over.

He holds you close to him as the show draws to a close. You both continuing your antics of singing along to each song or at least Marcus trying his best to for every movie he could remember from the movie nights you both would have. His hand slips into his pocket, fidgeting with the pouch as he pulls out the cool, round metal. He feels his heart start to race, the moment coming as he hears Walts voice come over the speakers. And so, our journey comes to an end. But yours continues on. Grab hold of your dreams and make them come true.

“Sweetheart?” Marcus says over the crowd, making you turn around and smile at him, eyes crinkling.

“Yes Markie?”

He holds up his phone with one hand, the other still hiding in his pocket, “Can you turn around for me to get a picture of you with the castle behind you.”

“Marcussss,” you whine but know you’ll still do it for him, “You already have one from the past few times.”

Marcus presses his finger to your nose in a boop, “Yes and I would love one for this time, please?” He pouts at you and you laugh as he looks at you with pleading eyes.

You scrunch up your nose as you poke his side, grinning as he tries to swat your hand away, “Fine, only because you asked so nicely.”

You turn around and Marcus feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. For you are the key to unlocking your own magic. Now go.

Marcus turns to the woman beside him, “Can you video this for me please?” She gasps as he hands her his phone, showing her the ring in his hand. She nods, grinning at him brightly.

Marcus takes a deep breath, getting down on his knee behind you, watching as the diamond sparkles under the lights. Let your dreams guide you. Reach out and find your Happily Ever After.

You hear cheers as the final fireworks get released in the sky, clapping as you watch them burst, the last of the colors cascading down. There are gasps around you and turn around to ask Marcus what was going on. Your hands immediately come up to your mouth as you see Marcus kneeling on the ground behind you, a ring in his hand.

You feel the tears brimming in your eyes as Marcus looks up at you, that beaming smile on his face, brown eyes reflecting nothing but love. He says your name, silence seeming to fall upon everyone watching, waiting to see your reaction. He takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm.

Marcus feels his nerves coming back as the next words come out, “This is me reaching out for my happily ever after. Ever since you came into my life, I have felt like I have known you for years. You have seen me at my best, at my worst. You’ve helped me from myself, from others. You’ve helped me become a better man, when I’m around you...I feel like I’m home, like I’ve found my place in this chaotic world. I’ve lived without you and I can’t ever imagine not having you at my side again. Everyday with you feels like magic. When I see you smile, it’s like you’ve hung up the stars in this night sky, you bring so much light to my life. I can’t believe I’ve been deemed worthy enough to have someone as wonderful as you placed in my life. Will you do me the honor and marry me?”

You feel the tears start to stream down your face, knees wobbly as you hear his confession. Your mind takes you back to nine years before when you had told him it was your dream to be proposed to in front of Cinderella’s castle since you were a kid. The tears flowed more freely knowing even after all this time he had remembered. You let out a soft sob, nodding, watching as Marcus’ own eyes start to shine with tears. “Yes?” Marcus asks as if he’s waiting for you to change your mind.

You smile at him wiping your eyes with your free hand, “Y-Yes….Yes!” You both hear the crowd cheer, Marcus slipping the ring on your finger. He stands up, immediately lifting you in his arms and swinging you around as you laugh, placing both hands on his cheeks as you kiss his lips. The crowd starts clapping around you both, a unison of awws erupting, you pull away grinning at him, “I love you Marcus Miguel, I’ll never forget this.”

Marcus presses his forehead against yours, smiling against your lips, feeling as if it’s just you both in that moment, “I love you too my queen. I can’t wait for forever with you.”

As you stare into his soft eyes, his lips pressing against yours again for a sweet kiss, you feel the immense amount of love between you both, anything left unspoken being shared in the soft yet desperate kiss. The world melts away, just you both in this little moment that was yours and no one else's. As you stand there in his arms, the crowd forgotten, you know just as him, you wouldn’t want to spend forever with anyone else.

WHtM taglist: @silverwolf319 @metalarmsandmanbuns @waywardimpalawriter @martinsmomo @hellovanessax @alberta-sunrise @evelynseventyr @mishasminion360 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @phoenixpascal @a-bang-for-your-bucky @hunnybadger-naps @sara-alonso @giselatropicana @sweet-creature98 @maryfanson

Taglist: @purplepascal042 @ezrasbirdie @starlightmornings @danniburgh @mothandpidgeon @charnelhouse @wyn-n-tonic @mesmorales @221bshrlocked @agos-505 @skvatnavle @pintsizemama @starvel-3000 @agentmoonshine1 @sleepylunarwolf @greeneyedblondie44 @a-skov @prettylilhalforc @beskarboobs @stevie75 @starwarslove16 @pedrostories @chronic-nosebleed @ceniington @littlemisspascal @xxxroxsxxx @vibin-hippie @spanishmossmagnolia @kesskirata @amneris21 @punkerthanpascal @morena-doing-stuff @wantingpedropascal @rebel-fanfare @dindjxrinslover @janebby @what-iwish-you-knew @hauntedmama

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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haikyuu-appreciation-club · 4 years

Note

nsjdiidj tendou general fluff plsplsplsplsplspls just domestic and tooth-rotting things like y/n helping tape his fingers, y/n singing and doing his baki baki song🥺, them making their own songs with tendou and all that cheesy stuff hhhhhhhhhhhh i beg for any cute tendou content pls

AHHH ANON ILY

IVE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE FOR TENDOU FOR A HOT MINUTE

I ADORE HIM

anywhoo, i was thinking of how i could make this soo fluffy it’s nauseating soo i decided to compile a bunch of cute lil relationship hc for our bby :)

this is my first time doing a head canon without any structure so I apologize for how messy it is

regardless, i hope you enjoyyy !!

•Relationship HC w/ Tendou•

warnings: none

genre: fluff, like an insane amount of fluff

character: Tendou

tendou could not believe you reciprocated his feelings

he had liked you for such a long time but honestly he thought he was just leading himself straight into heartbreak

he didn't believe you could like someone like him

I mean sure, you two were good friends but he was always waiting for the day you would tell him you were just sticking around out of pity or you were using him to get to Ushijima

so, when he finally said screw it and confessed the last thing he was expecting was for you to wrap you arms around him and say you liked him too

safe to say that one of the happiest days of his life

you two were as close to the perfect couple as anyone could get

if someone were to look at you two they would think you had been childhood sweethearts

you two had a connection that just flowed, never uncomfortable or awkward

anyone could see just that just by the way you two interacted with one another

you we’re very affectionate towards each other not the face sucking butt grabbing in public type of affection, don’t worry

he would tend to sneak up behind you when you were doing something or talking to someone and wrap his arms around your waist, placing his chin on your shoulder

you tended to do the same, clinging to his arms or playfully hugging him from behind and burying your face into his back, allowing you to inhale his calming scent

when you would walk with one another he would always be attached to you in some way

didn't matter if it was an arm around your shoulder or waist or having his fingers intertwined with yours, he just liked feeling you right by his side

you didnt mind any of this one bit, you loved being so close to him

occasionally people would give you two strange looks or mumble something under their breath but you didn’t care one bit

however, this bothered tendou from time to time so you always let him know how much he meant to you, usually pulling him in for a hug or a quick kiss whenever you noticed his expression falter

you also attended every single one of his games, no matter their importance

he loved seeing you up there in his jersey, cheering just for him

when he would sing his song on the court he would always turn to you and you would mouth the words along with him with the brightest smile on your face

he always played at 100% when you were there

you would run up to him after games and give him a tight hug, occasionally pulling him to the nurses office after to wrap his fingers if he happened to get injured that game

a very fun part of your relationship was your very spontaneous dates

you didn’t do the typical dinner date or go to a theater to see a movie

you two went to the park to push each other on the swings or took a road trip to a new place while singing your hearts out or had movie nights at home that ended in you two cuddled up on the couch

that was more your type of style

tendou was a very loving s/o and he showed it in his own special way

occasionally at school he would give you rocks or leaves or flowers he found on his walk there and as you two would walk he would tell you all about what had led him to that very object you had a shoebox full of everything he gave you

as for presents like birthday or christmas, every gift you received was homemade. he believed that things made from the heart held more meaning and it gave him an opportunity to show you how much he really loved you

his usually expressed his love through the little things

he did your hair when you had ran late to school and forgot to do it yourself

he would make stupid jokes and do stupid things whenever you were upset to try and cheer you up

he always moved you to the inside of the sidewalk when you two walked home

he gave you his food when he noticed you forgot yours and always checked up on you in between classes

every single thing he did, he did with love and you knew that

you two spent a lot of time at each other’s houses, usually reading manga or watching movies

watching movies during the day usually ended in a pillow fight, initiated by tendou of course mans had way too much energy to sit down and watch a movie unless it was a date night

he loved to hear you laugh and watch that lovely smile pull at the corners of your mouth

just looking at you made him fall in love all over again

he loved doing all of these things but his favorite time with you was when your eyes had fluttered shut and your chest rose and fell with each soft breath

just being able to hold and admire the person he cared so much about allowed him to shut the whole world out and just focus on you

you were his world and he was so hopelessly in love with you

he promised himself that you were the one he would build a life with

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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emwritesstuff · 3 years

Text

as the world caves in | ch. 9 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode six (finale). Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: thank you everyone for your patience with this chapter. I'm dropping this lil shortie so we can get the story moving. Let's go! (warnings: lil' fluff, lil' angst) (word count: 3K) nine: records

Bucky knocked on your door a few weeks later.

It was late, and you were snug in your pajamas, winding down after a long day. With your identity no longer a secret, the government was in the midst of transferring you to something more… hands-on, and definitely less diplomatic, you were assuming; so much for retirement, but you figured 30 years of it had been more time than you could’ve anticipated.

You almost didn’t hear the soft rapping on wood over Vera Lynn’s mellow singing.

When you finally opened it, you found him standing there, wearing tired eyes and a dark coat. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but I started walking and I—"

“When I said you’re welcome anytime, Bucky Barnes, I meant any time.”

A tiny fraction of a smile was offered your way, and you grasped it tight against your heart at the same time you do his hand, pulling him inside.

His fingers lingered on yours, but before you could start thinking about it he pulled away, taking a seat at the edge of your couch. “I finished it. The book.”

Bucky answered your question before you could ask it. “I just came from there. The last one– the last name.”

“Well. Are you alright?” You sat next to him, your knee knocking against his, and his gaze went from the floor, to the spot where your legs touched, and then to you. He knitted his eyebrows, seeming a little incredulous you were even asking.

“I will be.” His hands intertwined on the space between his knees, and you placed a hand ton his shoulder, getting him to look at you again.

“Yes, you will. Do you want to talk about it?”

One corner of Bucky’s lip raised up, and he shook his head. “Is that Vera Lynn?”

You smiled, turning to look at your record player as if Vera herself was sitting next to it. “It is. Takes me back, I guess.”

“It’s all we’d listen to at the front.”

Nodding, you wondered for a second if Bucky remembered dancing to We’ll Meet Again the night before he was shipped off. Even if you weren’t the only girl he had danced with then, you still asked yourself if that memory was burned on his mind as it was on yours.

We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when. A short-term promise, made back then by hopeful lovers, friends, family members; you had no idea that those lyrics would prove themselves so literal when you and Bucky mouthed them at each other in the middle of a dancefloor.

You let out a breathy chuckle, standing up and beckoning him to where you kept the rest of your vinyl. “Come on. Vera’s starting to feel a little too nostalgic to me.”

Your record collection was pretty extensive, ranging from things of the good ol’ days from the special editions that were still being released nowadays. Bucky joined you on the floor, and together you started to make your way through decades eternized in discs.

“Marvin Gaye.”

You look up from The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, finding Bucky making a face at the album he was holding. “It’s really good. Do you want to—”

“No. No more Marvin Gaye.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You don’t like him?”

“I like Marvin Gaye! Jesus. Marvin is good—Marvin’s jus’ fine,” Bucky rubbed his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, and you finally understood.

“Sam’s been preaching you the word of R&B to you too, huh?”

You giggled at the tired look he gave you and silently took Trouble Man out of his hands, stuffing it back with the rest of the 1970’s.

Years ago, Bucky would be delighted to dive headfirst in the new – your trips to countless science fairs and expositions were enough proof of that – but looking at him now, knowing him as you were starting to once again, you figured that just a dip of the toes was more than enough.

You pulled Frank Sinatra from the 1950’s section.

“I know Sinatra.”

“Do you now?”

You put the record on your player, and Vera Lynn’s longing gave way to Sinatra’s swagger and jazz.

“Do you?” Bucky teased, frowning at the most recent items in your collection. As soon as Frank’s voice filled the silence, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s nice.”

“I do know him! Or did. Met ‘im in 1962.” You plopped next to Bucky, who was shaking his head. “What?”

“Show off.”

“No, just been around. Met people on the way. And, you asked.” Your smirk grew into a grin as Bucky mouthed your words back at you. Then his face fell for a second, and your amusement was quickly replaced by worry. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I guess – I guess I just missed a lot.” The same way one of the corners of his lips tug on his cheek again in his attempt of a smile, melancholy tugs at your heartstrings. “I missed out on everything. And I missed out on you.”

Bucky’s head was low as he spoke and you could see the tremble of his hands, even though he clutched one of your records tightly. Nina Simone, 1960’s.

“M’not going anywhere, you know.”

“You still lived an entire lifetime—”

“I did, yes, thank you for constantly reminding me that I’m over 100 years old.” You shook your head at him, sighing softly when he chuckled.

You couldn’t blame him, for clinging to every bit of past he’d missed while he was in HYDRA’s clutches – you knew that was inevitable, but you wished that such sorrow wasn’t so related to you.

“What are you doin’?” He asked as you summoned a small stool from the side of your shelf and stepped on it.

“I want to show you somethin’.” The thing you were looking for was stored at the very top: a heavy, brown leather suitcase that almost made you lose your balance when you pulled it from the spot it had been sitting in for—honestly, years, many of them.

The contents of the suitcase rattled as you climbed down and sat next to Bucky again. Sinatra still playing, telling his lover I've got you under my skin, I've got you, deep in the heart of me;

You almost laughed from the truth and irony of it.

I'd tried so, not to give in

I said to myself this affair never will go so well

You unlocked the suitcase, revealing the gathered memories inside. Pictures, movie tickets, theater playbooks, receipts, trinkets. All souvenirs of the 80 something years of your life Bucky hadn’t been there to see.

Not organized in the slightest, the keepsakes of your life were tossed together and out of order just as in your memory: photographs of you in uniform, and sometimes in party dresses; of when you bought your house; of the few times you had pets. Posing next to famous people and other important ones whose names weren’t as well known by the world.

As you and Bucky went through each of them, you added a story or an explanation, sometimes both, to fill him in on the details of your life events. He laughed at some, frowned at a lot, stared at you intently for all of them.

“Is this Berlin?”

You hummed, nodding. “1989. That party was great.”

“Party?” Bucky knitted his eyebrows in surprise.

“The city was unified, the wall was being taken down, and everyone was celebrating. I’ve never seen that many bottles of vodka in one place.” You laughed, taking a good look at yourself in the picture.

The 80’s were definitely not your best decade, looks wise. You had tried a perm the year before, and the poodle look was only then starting to dial down. The beginnings of a bruise were starting to creep on your left eye, from the mission you had completed just a few hours before.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been that drunk.”

Bucky’s surprise intensified, his eyes wide. “We can’t get drunk.”

“Yes we can.”

“No, no we can’t.”

“We can, in fact. It’s all a matter of quantity and, well, speed.” You giggled as Bucky’s mouth gaped more.

“And the hangover?”

“Horrible. Like getting shot on the forehead. Comes quickly, too.”

He grimaced, and with one last look – certainly to register your peculiar appearance on his mind – gently put the picture back inside the suitcase. A stack of papers seemed to call out to him and he picked it up, releasing them from the band that held them together carefully.

Postcards of the places you’ve been: a small note to James Barnes and Steve Rogers on the back of each one.

Bucky’s voice faltered. He let out an anguished little sound, probably something that was supposed to be an Oh, or a What, but had no strength to crawl up his throat.

You brought your knees to your chest as you waited for him.

“You—you wrote to us?”

“I did. You can keep those, they’re addressed to you.”

After all this time, you could barely remember the words you wrote in those postcards; all you knew was that some had longer messages, others a simple Wish you were here.

“After we met in Baltimore, I thought that— that you’d have moved on from us.”

From me.

As if that was possible.

“Well, I stopped writing by 2003, give or take. But really,” You sighed. “It’s hard to forget someone when you’ve always been expecting them to come back to you.”

Bucky flipped the postcard from Rome, read the writing and smiled wistfully at it. “And, I did.”

“You did. And staying away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but—”

“But you’re annoyingly stubborn.” His jaw tightened, then relaxed when he smirked. “I mean, I get it – If the roles were reversed, I’d leave you rebuild your life without me like a self-sacrificing idiot too.”

Alright. That was fair.

Shaking your head, you watched as he slipped the postcards in his pocket, an amused expression on his face.

“That was… a big mistake. Something a self-sacrificing idiot would do,” You screwed your eyes shut in shame, opening them when Bucky chuckled. “but now, I’m right here. And so are you.”

His stubble scratched the soft skin of your palm when you reached for him, and you continued. “We’re a little out of place in this century, that much is true, but if I’m being honest… I’m getting tired of yearning for the past, Buck.”

Good old times – sometimes really good, sometimes bad, every one of them old – tucked away in your heart like your records were tucked in neatly in their shelf, organized by year. As you went through the decades, your enhanced body eternizing you like marble, your heart seemingly stayed at that army camp overseas. Or maybe Sergeant Bucky Barnes had taken it with him, only for them to be frozen together, leaving you with an empty hole in your chest.

You lived your life longing for that missing piece, the one with blue eyes and the dashing smile and the skilled feet.

The one that in many other stories was the one that got away, the one who now believed he was somebody else, but had brought your heart back with him all the same.

The very heart that nearly leapt out of your chest when Bucky rested his forehead against yours.

You’ve never been this close – there isn’t an ounce of past in the gesture. His eyes being tightly closed kept him from seeing the surprise on your eyes and then how they fell to his lips for a millisecond. Then, those lips brushed against yours in a featherlike touch.

I would sacrifice anything, come what might

For the sake of having you near

He pried himself off you when you exhaled, as if your very breath had electrocuted him.

“M’sorry. I—I didn’t—” He said as you stared at the back of his neck, and the shock gives way to disappointment.

I didn’t mean to. Or maybe: I didn’t want to.

“That’s—it’s okay.” You clapped your hands on your knees, still feeling the prickle of his facial hair on them, and got up to change the music.

There was no doubt Bucky was touch starved, and that he probably craved the closeness that comes with a lover. He sought that for a fleeting second in Sam’s sister, and now in you. No point in dwelling on what it might have meant.

Right?

Looking at Bucky, his expression was overcast, furrowed eyebrows as he watched you from his spot on the floor. You offered him a gentle smile, and the crease on his forehead eased up slightly.

Right.

Don't you know little fool, you never can win

The record player made a scratching sound as you replaced Frank Sinatra with your go-to jazz compilation. Instrumental.

No lyrics.

There was one thing you’ve always been good at, regarding the infatuation with Bucky Barnes that has taken over your heart for almost a century now: locking the feelings away and stepping into the shoes of the best friend.

Besides, you’ve said it yourself: no more yearning for the past. Hopefully you and Bucky would be able to do that soon enough.

At that moment, however, you needed to feel the burn of whiskey down your throat and pretend it’ll heal the calcinating rejection spreading through your chest.

The guilt you found in Bucky’s eyes as he watched you sweep around your hardwood floors made you pour a glass for him.

He took it gratefully, frowning when you bottomed the whole thing up.

“There’s a lot in here.” He tapped the edge of the suitcase, skillfully steering the conversation in the direction of the more palatable, calm territory it was in before.

The sight of your autobiographical collection made you smile.

“An entire lifetime,” You said, fishing your dog tags from the bottom. “I suppose that’s where it started. Or at least, where thisstarted.”

Bucky took them reverentially, running his thumb over the imprint of your name and numbers.

He reached for his neck, producing from under his Henley the same type of metal chain he was holding in his hands. The fact that he still wore his like that sent a sharp blow to your lungs, almost knocking the air out of you.

His face softened, a smile so beautiful spreading across his lips, so much that your chest clenched in protest because it was simply not fair, how he still had you entirely.

He deposited both of your dog tags in your hands, and that’s when you saw it, and remembered it.

“Won’t we get in trouble for this?”

“Do you care?”

“Well…No.” You sighed, already resigned. And a little excited.

Bucky knew you well: it had been too long of being a good little soldier when all you were used to was the rush of being a hellion.

“And that is why, sugar, that I’m doing this with you, and not with Steve.”

The words made your heart soar, but you were sure to recapture it before it could fly away too high, still too attached to the sensation of the take-off to clip its wings.

You liked flying.

“And because Steve hasn’t been successful in his enlisting efforts. Yet.”

Bucky looked at you from behind his eyebrows, a reprimand hiding in his eyes, but he decided to shove his uniform hat on your head instead. You grumbled, calling him a jerk under your breath.

It was the night before Bucky was drafted to England. He looked handsome in his uniform, a shining, polished star, brighter than the sun even under the dim streetlight you two stood under.

After bringing his and Steve’s dates home (yours was lost to another boxing match along the way – not that you were crying about that) Bucky had decided he was going to stay up all night, because, in his words, he could sleep when the war was over. Or, more realistically, in the ship on the way to England.

So there you two were, illuminated by street lamps and moonlight, visiting the façades and front windows of your favorite places in Brooklyn like drifters in the night.

Bucky still concentrated on his task, his shoulder hunched slightly to block your sight.

“Let me see! Bucky!”

“ ’Sposed to be a surprise! I’m almost done.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “It’s not like I haven’t seen ‘em before.”

“You gotta be more patient. Here.”

He dropped your dog tags on your hand. You displayed the small steel plates on your palm, scanning your eyes over the two. One of them, of course, had your name, number, blood type, next of kin – an aunt you’ve never met – and address.

The other had Bucky’s.

James B Barnes. 32557038.

He slipped his own chain over his head, the plate with your name clinking against his.

You brought the tips of your fingers to your lips, feeling a smile begin to form onto them.

“I forgot we did this. I haven’t looked at these in so long.”

You had stopped wearing your dog tags the day the war had ended – Bucky was gone then, Steve too, and the weight of his dog tags slamming against your chest was too much to bear – your heart was already heavy with its own engraving of their memories.

“Steve had a lecture prepared when he gave mine back.” Bucky chuckled when you looked up at him, incredulous.

You shook your head, half exasperated and half amused. “Good grief, Steve.”

“Y’know how he is. Was,” He trailed, lips twitching as they formed a thin line.

You reached for him, your hand hovering in the space between you for a second before Bucky took it, lacing your fingers. Scooting closer, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder.

“He’d be glad we’re reunited.” You said, raising your head to peek at him and the newfound upwards curl of his lip. “And mortified we’re still bickering.”

Bucky smiled and squeezed your hand. “Old people. Old habits.”

Laughter bubbled out of your chest, and you realized a few things.

In that moment, it didn’t matter – the heartache, the unrequited side of your love. It was just a fact, a fact of life, of your life, that you a lot of the times loved him as more than your best friend. You loved him. And that was the core of it, the most important fact.

And you knew he loved you – you had each other – in this big, ever-changing, modern world, you had Bucky and Bucky had you.

You sat in comfortable, familiar silence until your eyelids grew heavy and you felt yourself drifting in and out of consciousness.

“You dozin’ on me, sugar?”

“It’s been a long day.” You said with your eyes still closed, feeling him chuckle beside you.

“Tell me about it. I can go—”

“You know damn well you should stay.” You patted his arm and hoisted yourself up from the floor. “I’ll get the pull-up ready for you.”

As you sauntered towards the office, ignoring his pleads and protests that he’s got it, he doesn’t need sheets or anything, you put your dog tags back on.

They jingled lightly against your heart.

Maybe you didn’t have to leave all of the past behind to start building something good and new, after all.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine

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