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donghyuckcuyhgnod · 3 years

Text

OUR LITTLE SECRET.

park jisung x fem!reader

genre: fluff, crack

warnings: swearing, haechan sees reader naked for like two seconds, implications of showering with jisung, jisung’s clothes are too big for reader, implies that reader has long & dark hair, reader uses she/her pronouns

2.2k words

you were jisung’s little secret. as an idol, being in a relationship was not only risky, but hard to contain. not only did jisung worry about his own repuatation, but the most important thing to him was your happiness and your safety. and if the world knew about you, he was sure that both of those would be at risk. so he kept you to himself; not even his closest friends and fellow members knowing about you.

you didn’t mind, of course. you appreciated the way he took your feelings into consideration. you didn’t want to be famous, not one bit. you didn’t want to be known as the girl who dates an idol. jisung meant the world to you, and you didn’t want anything to get in the way of that.

so, the two of you opted for hanging out only when the fellow dreamies, who also happened to be jisung’s dormmates, weren’t home. and after your departure, he would make sure that every tiny trace of you was gone. he thought he’d been caught just recently—jaemin had found a piece of long dark hair in the laundry room and was quite puzzled. of course, jisung feigned the same amount of confusion as the other boys. and luckily, he wasn’t questioned.

or even when renjun found a tube of lipgloss in between the couch cushions when he was cleaning one day. luckily, donghyuck’s sister had visited recently before that which made a great excuse as to why there could be a tube of lipgloss in the couch. however, jisung couldn’t help but taste that same lipgloss on his lips from the day before when the dreamies weren’t home.

but he hasn’t been caught, and he hadn’t planned on getting caught any time soon. it’s been over a year since the two of you began dating, and to be honest, both of you were quite shocked at how long you’ve kept this secret. jisung promised you that one day, when ready, he’d gladly introduce you to the members; but for now, laying low was the only viable option.

you sighed at the feeling of the hot water trickling down your back, your hands running through your hair to get the suds out. the only type of wash jisung had in the shower was men’s shampoo, but the smell was absolutely heavenly so you weren’t really complaining. he had just previously gotten out, opting to let you finish washing your hair while he searched for a movie for the two of you to watch before you had to leave the dorms.

you heard the knob of the bathroom door turning, a smile immediately adorning your face at the thought of your boyfriend’s pretty face, free of any makeup and hair completley natural. you were about to greet him, until you heard a voice that definitely wasn’t jisung’s.

“jisung, we’re home a little early. jeno forgot to text you that we were on our way back,” you heard a high-pitched voice say, and you could lightly make out the shadow of a figure walking towards the sink in the bathroom. your eyes widened, a state of pure panic taking over your body.

shit, what do i do now? i can’t say anything, my voice clearly isn’t jisung’s! but if i stay silent, it’ll be weird! oh, fuck!

“dude?” the boy said after another moment, confusion laced in his voice at the lack of response. your hands flew to your forehead in frustration, holding your breath in a nervous habit. the figure walked a bit closer towards the closed shower curtain, and you could see the way he bent down and picked something up.

shit.

“bro, why are there women’s underwear on your floor? and a bra?” you heard a laugh. “i had no idea you liked to wear these types of things, jisung,” the boy teased, and you could practically feel the smugness in his tone. suddenly, you heard the voice of your lovely boyfriend. finally.

“hyuck! h-hey, what’s up?” jisung casually asked, and you could clearly hear the nervousness in his voice. you could make out his figure faintly through the curtain, his hands on his hips as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

“oh- jisung? why is the shower running if you’re not in it?” the boy questioned, a tint of suspicion in his voice.

“oh, you know. just cleaning the tub!” jisung laughed it off, and you rolled your eyes at his pathetic excuse and terrible lying skills.

“cleaning? dude, you never clean!” the boy, that you now know as hyuck, laughed. “let’s see just how good you cleaned the bathtub then,” he mocked, and the panic began to rise in you once again as you saw his figure get closer and closer to the shower curtain. and suddenly, there were fingers hooked around the ends of the curtain and a panicked jisung yelling, “no! hyung, stop!”

and before you knew it, your eyes met a pair of brown ones that had blown incredibly big at the sight of a girl in the familiar shower. the scream you let out was loud and ear-piercing as you tried your best to cover yourself, a similar noise coming from the boy you’d never met before.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” he screamed, immediately covering his eyes, running out of the bathroom as you heard his loud footsteps. you stopped the water, not knowing what else to do as you heard jisung chase after him.

“THERE’S A GIRL IN OUR SHOWER!”

suddenly, a series of voices began to reach your ears, a loud and shocked “THERE’S A GIRL IN OUR SHOWER!?” coming from another voice, but this one a bit deeper. you cringed, an overwhelming amount of regret taking over you. as fast as you could, you exited the bathroom, thanking the gods above that your boyfriend’s bedroom was only one room over. you threw on the first thing that you could find in jisung’s closet—a large shirt and a pair of sweat shorts.

after speedily getting dressed, you made your way towards the door of jisung’s bedroom. your hand hesitated on the knob, a heavy breath leaving your lips as you prepared yourself for an interesting encounter, and also to properly explain yourself; although, you weren’t really sure there was a proper way to explain all of this.

opening the door, you slowly and nervously made your way down the hall and nearing the living room, where several different voices were bickering and talking back and forth—you being the main subject.

rounding the corner, you caught sight of the five boys you had heard so much about. your body shook with nerves and your wet hair felt heavier than normal on your head and your shoulders. they hadn’t heard or seen you yet, their minds too occupied with questioning and interrogating the youngest of the group.

you lightly cleared your throat, gaining the attention of all six boys as they went completely silent. all twelve eyes were on you, wide and shocked, confusion evident in the way they looked at you. jisung silently cooed at the way you looked with his baggy clothes on your small figure, but now was not the time for that.

“who are you!?” one of them screeched, his bright orange hair swaying as he shook his head in confusion. before you could even get a word out, jisung interrupted.

“chenle! don’t talk to her like that!” he defended you. the way the five unfamiliar boys stared at you had involuntarily made you shiver, your nerves causing you to flinch away from their stares.

“guys, this is. . . uhm,” jisung cleared his throat, looking down at the ground as his cheeks went red. he scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact with his five best friends, and especially you. your eyes sparkled at him, a gentle smile taking over your face at his cute antics. although, you couldn’t really blame him for acting in such ways. this was an awkward situation. “this is y/n. my girlfriend,” he blurted out, his voice going high-pitched at the end of his sentence.

“girlfriend?” another said, his eyes going wide as he stared at jisung. “since when have you had a girlfriend?” he said, his pink hair nearly covering his wide eyes.

“about a year and a half,” you responded, and they seemed shocked to hear you speak. your voice was small and nervous, but had a sweetness to it that made their hearts melt. you were so small compared to them, jisung’s clothes hanging off of your dainty figure like a dress.

“you’ve been keeping this from us for over a year!?”

“yes, renjun!” jisung responded with annoyance. “she just said that, didn’t she?”

“oh, don’t you dare talk to me like that-“ renjun started, but was cut off by the final boy, his round glasses slowly sliding down his nose as he shushed renjun.

“i’m really sorry,” you said, your eyes wide in regret as you nervously played with your fingers.

“why are you apologizing? it’s my fault i didn’t tell them,” jisung said, a look of sincerity in his eyes.

“no, no, no. it’s not your fault. i’m sorry for intruding when you guys didn’t even know i existed. it was wrong of me and i apologize. i’m the one who agreed to see jisung in secret, when i should’ve been encouraging him to be truthful with you all. i-i didn’t mean to offend any of you,” you spoke softly, and the boys couldn’t help but soften at the way you basically shriveled into a ball from nervousness.

“it’s okay,” hyuck said, noticing the way jisung looked at you with sadness in his eyes. he had never seen such a look on the younger’s face, and it almost made him feel bad for making such a scene. almost. “it’s jisung’s fault. he’s the idiot for keeping an entire person from us,” he finished.

“hey!” jisung defended, and you couldn’t help but giggle at that, covering your face to hide your blushing and embarassed cheeks. the boys smiled at you, somehow finding you quite adorable. it had only been a mere few minutes and they had barely even spoke to you, yet somehow you were already like a little sister to them. maybe it was the look in jisung’s eyes when you emerged from his bedroom, or maybe it was the way you smiled at jisung after hyuck made you laugh.

“you guys are all assholes, you know! instead of approaching the situation calmly you just automatically freaked out on me!” jisung said, huffing as he stomped his foot.

“calmly!? park jisung, i saw a naked girl in our shower. how the hell was i supposed to react calmly to that!?” hyuck said, causing you to break out into giggles once again as he shouted at your boyfriend. the boys joined along in your light laughter, all amused; except for your boyfriend, of course.

“well. . . i don’t know! also, why are you still holding those!?” jisung shouted, noticing the familiar pair of blue underwear in hyuck’s hands. your boyfriend snatched them from his friend’s grip, hiding them behind his back. you yelped in embarrassment, for they weren’t necessarily a normal pair of underwear—but rather, lack-there-of.

“yeah? why is your hair wet, too?” chenle pointed out, the boys all noticing his dripping wet locks, similar to yours. jisung’s eyes widened, his mouth hanging open in shock. suddenly, his entire face was a deep shade of red and his eyes were trembling. “wh-what are you talking about? i took one before her!”

“yeah, right! your hair would’ve been dry by now! our little maknae isn’t so little anymore, huh?” the boy with the pink hair smirked, a teasing laugh escaping his lips as the boys joined along. “shut up, jaemin!”

“hey, i don’t blame you, sung! from what i saw, she’s got a nice pair of-“

“don’t you dare say it!” he yelled at hyuck. you put your face in your hands, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“our maknae can get it!” the boy with glasses said. “shut up, jeno!” jisung responded, clearly at a loss for words.

you giggled again, your mood suddenly lifting. you no longer felt weird and embarassed by the way they looked at you, but rather comfortable. they had already made you laugh quite a few times, and you had only just met them. you looked at jisung and the way he sighed in frustration, and you couldn’t help but smile at him and the way they nagged and teased the younger.

despite jisung’s protests, you could already make out the clear brother-like relationship between the boys. it was evident in the way they teased him, their remarks full of affection. weirdly enough, you enjoyed seeing so much love being put forth towards your boyfriend, no matter how much he disagreed.

for the days after that, you no longer saw jisung in secret. you started to spend a lot more time at the dorms, whether the dreamies were there or not. you even began spending nights there, up until sunrise playing games with jisung and his fellow members. you felt closer to your boyfriend than ever, and you were happy to call the five other boys your new friends.

maybe being a secret wasn’t the best option, afrerall.

1K notes · View notes

holdingforgeneralhugs · 3 years

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Emmaaa❤️❤️ may I request a headcanon where the easy boys fell in love with a shy reader? Maybe with Bull, Tab, Luz, Speirs Babe and Malarkey? Thank you❤️ love you

Aaahhh Fran my dear, what a great way to start off my birthday week tysm for sending one in💓

Bull Randleman:

Bull is super protective of you, always has been.

He got 10 million times more protective when he realises he's head over ass in love with you.

He's always there, always got your back no matter what.

He likes that you're most comfortable when you're with him, makes him feel like he's special.

When he was stuck in that barn in Holland, separated from everyone, thinking about you was the only thing that kept his strength up.

Its then he decides he has to tell you how he feels.

He's pretty direct about it, he doesn't want to beat around the bush with this.

"Look darlin', I ain't gonna mess around here, because to be completely honest I'm head over heels in love with you."

You get all blushy and stuttery and he thinks it's probably the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

He can tell you're flustered, so he grabs your cheeks in his hands and rubs his thumbs over them gently.

"Can I kiss ya darlin'?" He asks softly

You can't even speak you're so surprised, so you nod and he leans in and kisses you slowly, not wanting to rush anything and ruin the perfect moment.

"Hell Bull," you giggle, "I've been hoping you'd say something for ages."

"And why didn't you say anything, huh?" He laughed.

"Because I was too scared you'd turn me down."

"Well," he sighed, kissing your forehead, "I just can't quite believe I ever gave you the impression I'd turn you down. Guess I'll just have to prove to you how much I love you from now on."

Floyd Talbert

Tab is a total flirt

He's all cheesy pickup likes at first and they make you blush like hell but you'll never give him the satisfaction of laughing at them because they're so ridiculous.

But he takes your blushing as encouragement so he keeps going for weeks until eventually he gets a giggle out of you and it makes all his efforts worthwhile because you have the most lovely laugh.

After that you start getting to know each other a little better, and you start to get closer.

He's delighted when you start to open up and share more with him.

It kind of hits him like a slap in the face that shit, he's in love love you.

He's a total softie with you

He's quite subtle about it at first. He does small nice things for you; makes you coffee, gives you half his k ration when supplies are low.

He's surprisingly reluctant to profess his feelings for you. He thinks there's no way you'll see him as anything other than a friend.

Chuck tells him he's an idiot, that you've clearly got feelings for him too and be should just tell you already.

So he does...in the most muddled way possible. It all kinda comes out like word vomit.

"So-I-Just-wanna-tell-you-I-think-you're-wonderful-and-I'm-a-little-bit-in-love-with-you."

You're dumbfounded, and you can't quite comprehend what he's just said.

"Wait," you whisper, "are you being serious right now?"

"Yeah," he laughs, "I've kinda got it really bad for you."

You giggle and blush like hell, and he grins like an idiot because he loves that giggle so much

"How about I take you out for dinner sometime?" He asks cheekily, and his grin widens when you blush harder and agree to go.

He saunters over to you and plants a quick kiss on your lips, before putting his arm around your shoulder and leading you off, pointedly ignoring Chucks wolf whistles when the two of you walk past him.

George Luz

George is the biggest flirt around, and he makes no secret in the fact he likes you.

He goes out of his way to compliment you; tells you that you make Rita Hayworth look plain, that you make sunshine look dull.

The more he makes you blush, the harder he tries. He knows he can crack your shy shell and find the gem underneath.

He's a big fan of cheesy movie quotes, which you adamantly refuse to indulge him with, but he keeps trying nonetheless.

He's tried them all, so he decides this time to pull out all the stops and be as direct about his feelings as possible.

"See that's what's wrong with you," he starts smoothly, "you should be kissed, and often. And by someone who knows how."

He pauses for a second to judge your reaction, and when he sees you smiling he sweeps you into a dramatic dip and kisses you passionately, Clarke Gable style.

He quite literally swept you off your feet, and he knows it too.

Once he knows he's successfully gotten your attention for real, he softens. He dials down the flamboyant flirting and instead he just talks to you and gets to know you for real.

He loves to cuddle you in close and have whispered conversations for hours.

He's very affectionate too, always has to be holding your hand or have his arm around you.

He brings you out of your shell, his enthusiasm and fun nature is so infectious you can't help but be swept up by it and join in on the fun.

Ronald Speirs

Ron is incredibly different when he's with you, much to everyone's surprise.

He laughs with you, like....a lot.

At first you were very cautious with him. You'd heard the stories and weren't too sure what to make of him.

But when you get to know him you realise that he is totally different to what everyone said.

You found that he is really easy to talk to, and he has a wicked sense of humour.

He liked that you were a bit more quiet than others, it made you much easier for him to talk to.

He tells the most brilliant stories, and the two of you usually end up talking for hours about all sorts; history, movies, music, anything and everything.

Its obvious to everyone but you that he has feelings for you.

He thinks you must surely know, that it was completely obvious he'd fallen in love with you. I mean he spends all his free time with you, and he never talks to anyone else the way he does with you.

Lipton eventually realises that no, you don't actually have a clue how Speirs feels about you, so he tells him that you're oblivious.

Naturally Speirs is all action and matter of fact, so he decides to just tell you how he feels and see what happens.

He's kinda nervous despite outward appearances, but he'd never admit it to himself or anyone else.

So he literally just comes out and says it one day; no frills, no fuss.

You're disarmed by his straightforwardness. You'd hoped that he might return your feelings but you'd thought there was no way.

You've never seen him smile brighter than when you told him you returned his feelings.

He wasted no time after that; he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in to a passionate kiss, his other hand cupping your jaw.

Everyone was delighted you'd mellowed out ole Sparky a little, but of course nobody was brave enough to say it out loud in case he found out.

Babe Heffron

Babe....is a bit of a mess around you.

He tries to act all cool and smooth, but he's really a total disaster because he's so distracted staring at you.

When you first start getting to know each other he does most of the talking. He's nervous as hell around you so his mouth just keeps going.

Lucky for him though you find it endearing, and it helps you feel more comfortable with him so you start to open up too.

After that he prefers to listen instead of talk, because he's fascinated by everything you tell him.

You're two peas in a pod, and everyone thinks you're a miracle worker because you've managed to get Babe to stop talking for 5 minutes.

Its clear to everyone that the guy is totally in love with you, they're just waiting for him to do something about it.

So of course Bill is the one to tell him to get his act together.

"Get your goddamn head out of your ass Babe and stop acting like a lovesick puppy. Go tell her you love her and get the goddamn girl."

It takes him awhile, and he really has to gear himself up to do it. He's attempted to say it so many times but he keeps chickening out.

One night you two are hanging out just the two of you and he manages to get it out.

He stutters like hell, but you think it's seriously adorable, and you're grinning like an idiot by the time he's finished.

"Well, don't leave me hanging," he says nervously, "do you feel the same or...?"

You say nothing, instead leaning towards him and kissing him sweetly.

You're both blushing like two cherry tomatoes, but you're smiling so much your cheeks hurt.

Then you're even more inseparable. Bill thinks you're joined at the hip or something.

You're really cute together though, always holding hands or cuddled up.

What you don't see is that Babe rarely takes his eyes off of you, and he still looks like a lovesick puppy but honestly he couldn't care less.

Don Malarkey

Don tries to act all cool when the boys are around, but when he's alone with you he's much quieter.

It's those quiet moments alone together that you enjoy the most.

He's a great listener, and he has a gentle way of pushing you to open up and be yourself with him.

You guys grow close pretty quickly, and start spending more and more time together.

He finds himself getting lost in conversations with you, and getting distracted staring at you.

He realises one day when you're telling a funny story about your childhood and he hears your wonderful laugh that he's totally in love with you.

He doesn't say anything for awhile, thinking it all over. He contemplates if he should even tell you or not because there's a chance you'll laugh I'm his face and tell him no way in hell.

Eventually he decides to screw it and just tell you. But he's not gonna just come out and say it, he's gotta do some kinda gesture. But nothing too overly dramatic because you wouldn't like that.

So he turns up to meet you with a bunch of flowers he picked himself, and he's been trying to fix his hair for the last goddamn half hour.

He's got a speech prepared and everything, but he's pretty sure he's forgotten half of it.

"Look I...I don't know if you feel the same or anything but...I just want you to know that I am head over heels in love with you. And I don't expect you to return the feelings or anything but I'm hoping you'll give me a chance."

You could tell he was nervous about the whole thing, and it was quite possibly the most endearing thing you'd ever seen in your life.

You took the flowers from him and placed them on a side table quickly before jumping into his arms and hugging him tight.

"Woah," he chuckles, "I'm taking this as a good sign then."

You pulled back your head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes happily, nodding your agreement.

He eyes crinkled when he smiles and he leans in, pressing his lips against yours firmly.

Its clear to everyone how perfect you are for each other; you calm his wilder side and he brings out your more outgoing side.

Well there you have it! Hope you all like it and ilysm Fran thanks so much for such a fun request to kick off the birthday week fun💕

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @geniedocroe @generousdreamlanddestiny @sunsetmando @cagzzz107 @howunexpectedlyso @alejodi0nysus @sunflowerchuck

#band of brothers #bob #bull randleman #floyd talbert #george luz #ronald speirs #ron speirs #babe heffron #don malarkey #band of brothers x reader #hbo band of brothers #band of brothers fandom #band of brothers imagine #holdingforgeneralhugs #birthdayweekbonanza

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

through the lens

w/c: 2.3k

warnings: swearing and mentions of blood (all fluff tho!)

summary: yours and peter’s date night doesn’t go as planned, thanks to his “little” accident and mj’s photography project

a/n: it’s been a minute but i’m back! for now lol i promise i’ll be way more active when exam season is over <3 this was based off the lovely pic above taken by the even lovelier zendaya and i hope you enjoy these… let’s call it random workings of my mind

“hang on, can you come closer?” mj instructs you, you promptly stepping towards her. “is this good?” “great,” she affirms and squints behind the camera. “smile really big on the count of three, okay? one, two, three!” doing as she says, you give mj your cheesiest grin with your eyes squeezed shut and all. she snickers while snapping the moment on her polaroid.

mj asked you to be her subject for a photography project. you’re happy to do it, although it’s super last minute. like, barging-into-your-room-and-begging-you-for-help last minute. she was supposed to turn this in days ago. lucky for mj, her teacher was feeling generous and gave her an extension.

you have to work fast because of mj’s deadline and your plans with peter. he’s coming over for a movie marathon and cuddles right about now. well, he’s actually running a tad bit late. that’s typical peter for you.

“just a couple more, and then you’re free,” mj informs you while shaking out the polaroid. “this is honestly pretty fun, you know.” you glance at the photo she’s holding with an eyebrow quirked in surprise. she captures you well. “what made you choose me?” “no one else was free on a saturday,” she snorts and tosses the picture in a pile with the rest.

your mouth falls agape. “i’m not free! peter’s gonna be here in…” you check the time on your phone, much to your dismay. “he’s a few minutes late, but still. i have things to do, too.” a smirk sets on mj’s face as she gets ready for the next photograph. “relax, y/n/n. i was kidding. i’m sure spider-dweeb will be here sooner than you know it.” sighing lightheartedly, you take a seat on your bed.

“don’t call him that,” you shake your head. mj throws her own head back to the ceiling. “ugh, but that was a good one,” she insists, you only humming. “it’s better than penis parker, at least.” “nah, i like the alliteration,” you laugh out and earn a giggle from mj. “you’re lucky parker doesn’t have super hearing, or does he?” winking, you hit a pose for mj. you’re looking at her over your shoulder with smolder eyes.

“ask him yourself, after you get this shot.”

the two of you continue messing around with her polaroid until the film is almost gone, and peter has yet to arrive. you’re starting to worry. you aren’t sure where he could be.

he doesn’t patrol on weekends unless it’s an emergency, and he would’ve told you if there was one already. he’s never this late without sending a text, either. it’s almost an hour past when date night should’ve started. on the other occasions peter has gone off the grid, they didn’t end well.

“i’m freaking out, em. do you think he’s in some kind of trouble?” you ask mj, pacing around your bedroom. she offers a sympathetic shrug. “maybe he just ate some bad yogurt. remember last time?” being the dummy he is, peter once scarfed down an entire tub of vanilla yogurt before he realized it was expired. no one heard from him for days. he didn’t show up to school or answer any calls.

may ended up inviting you over and explaining he’d gotten a stomach bug, which you then tended to him for the rest of. the story was so amusing, and so peter.

“may doesn’t buy him dairy anymore. why do you think he always raids your freezer?” you bring your fingers up to rub your temples. “the kid can empty ice cream cartons in one bite,” she agrees, silently cringing. her curiosity piques at the fact. “is that also a power?” “who cares?” you nearly shout, your fingers curling into fists. “what i wanna know is if peter is fucking okay.”

on cue, there’s a knock at your apartment door. you and mj exchange looks of urgency, both rushing out of your room to answer.

mj follows you through the hall and stands by your side while you fumble with the lock. when your door pulls open, ned has his hand raised to knock again. “ned? what are you doing here?” you don’t give him the chance to speak. “have you heard from peter? he was supposed to be here a while ago, but he never showed.” rather than answering in words, ned takes a step aside.

the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. peter peeks out from behind him, cuts and bruises littering his flushed face. he gives you a lopsided smile.

“you have your answer,” mj murmurs to you and eyes ned curiously. he lets out a nervous chuckle. “here he is.” you push past ned and practically jump into peter’s arms, your hug bone-crushing. “peter, oh my god! are you okay?” wincing, peter hugs you back by your waist. his chin rests carefully on your head.

“hey… i’m alright, baby. still pretty sore, though,” he sucks his lower lip between his teeth. you take the hint to loosen your grip on him. “i was worried something bad might’ve happened to you. i… i guess i was right.” your tone softens, you threading a hand in his curls. they’re completely disheveled from whatever went down with him.

ned heads inside to catch up with mj, the two of them letting you have a moment alone.

“someone’s got a spidey sense of their own, huh?” peter tries to lighten the mood by joking. it doesn’t work, a frown still evident on your face as you try to untangle his once soft locks. “baby, everything’s fine. i just… had a little accident is all. no big deal,” he reassures you and moves in to peck your lips. you’re so shocked that you dodge the kiss.

“little? your whole face is black and blue, pete!” you tug on the white collar of his button up, peter letting out a shaky breath. your other hand comes to rest on his cheek, touch gentle. “how’d you get like this?” he licks across his lips shyly and sets his hands on your hips. “see, on the way over there were these bad guys who-“

“no there weren’t,” ned cuts in, scoffing at the beginning of his friend’s story. peter shoots him a warning look over your head. “yes there were, ned. you weren’t even there!” he catches mj glaring at him before he continues. “don’t listen to him. anyway, i had to fight them because…” when he trails off, you stroke your thumb across his cheek, avoiding any wounds in the way. raising both eyebrows, mj speaks up.

“because why? go on, parker. i’m intrigued,” she encourages him. everyone can tell peter is lying except you. the question really is, what’s he lying about? he gulps down his spit, pulling your body against his for comfort. “take your time, peter. we can wait,” you say only for him to hear. his love filled eyes meet yours, and he nods. ned huffs at the dramatics unfolding before him.

“dude, you’re making this way worse than it actually is. just tell her!” he demands, mj cocking her head to the side. peter’s gaze flits between the two of them. “tell me what?” you wonder softly and tilt his chin, willing him to look at you again. “i… i…” peter’s shoulders slump, his voice lowering in defeat. “there weren’t any bad guys.”

“of course there weren’t,” ned confirms. “no shit,” mj adds. exhaling, you wait for your boyfriend to further elaborate. “what really happened, then? be honest, pete.” peter lets go of you so he can come into your apartment properly, you shutting the door behind him. he scratches the back of his neck as he fills you in. “ok. um, me and ned were hanging out.”

ned is attempting to stifle a laugh for some reason, which mj elbows him for. you take one of peter’s hands. “yeah?” “we were at my place, and… you know those really slippery steps on the sixth floor?” peter pauses for someone to answer, playing with your fingers. “the ones flash almost wiped out on once?” mj questions in amusement. he lets a quiet chuckle out. “good times. yeah, those.”

his gaze averts to the ground, you listening on. “so, i was walking ned out on my way over. we were talking about spidey stuff-“ “as per usual,” mj mumbles to herself. ned raises his hands in defense. “—and i told ned i could always stick my landings. he didn’t believe me.” you playfully roll your eyes, seeing where this is going. “so… i, uh, decided to show him,” peter finishes off.

“i did a, um, backflip. tripped and fell down the flight of stairs,” he finally admits to you, putting his other hand on top of your intertwined ones. “clearly, i was wrong.” his bloody face is now red from humiliation. “you didn’t trip, dude. you freaking summersaulted!” ned corrects him and bursts into laughter he’s been holding back. “idiots, both of you,” mj simply remarks.

“that’s it? why didn’t you just say that?” you almost laugh yourself. groaning, peter rests his forehead against yours. “because it’s embarrassing! i wanted you to think i’m a tough guy or whatever.” placing both hands on his cheeks this time, you nuzzle your nose against his. “you don’t have to be a tough guy to impress me, babes. you’re kind, smart, funny. makes up for you being such a klutz.”

peter cracks a grin, easily capturing your lips in the kiss he didn’t get to before. it doesn’t last long because mj gags and ned whistles at you. you’re both giggling when you pull apart, peter kissing the tip of your nose for good measure.

“you really mean that?” he checks, tucking back a strand of hair from your face. “of course. i have a thing for himbos,” you tease and poke at his bare chest. his eyes widen. “how about i get you some ice and you find our first movie?” you’re already off to the kitchen, beaming at peter. “date night’s still on?” he happily plops down on your couch, mj showing ned her pictures from earlier.

“as soon as those two get out of here,” you call loudly enough so ned and mj hear you. “yeah, yeah. we’re leaving,” mj deadpans, shoving the photos back into her portfolio. peter glances over at it curiously. “what’s that for?” “photography project,” she says and gets an idea. “i have some film left. y/n took up most of it… you losers want the rest?”

while mj coerces her way to a higher grade, you put some popcorn in the microwave for your movie marathon.

“well, i could use a new lockscreen. i’m in!” ned quickly concedes. him and mj both give peter hopeful looks. “i’m not!” he protests, squishing one of your pillows against his chest. “with my face looking like… this? forget about it.” mj walks over to him and places her portfolio on the coffee table. “what? those gashes are gnarly… in a good way, i mean,” she promises.

“painful, too,” peter murmurs. “y/n, hurry up with that ice!” mj demands, grabbing the polaroid camera from its string around her neck. you wave her off. “what i’m saying is, they’ll look sick in my portfolio.” mj forces a smile, ned looking at her weirdly. “uh, what’s the theme of your project again?” “freestyle, baby,” mj casually replies.

peter comes up with a condition that could persuade him. “if you say please, i might consider it,” he concludes, mj perking up. “please be in my project. pretty please?” she instantly requests, ned pursing his lips from behind her. peter rubs his chin. “y/n, what do you think? should i?” you pipe in from the kitchen. “yeah, so she’ll leave my house.”

“you heard the lady. i’ll do it,” peter gives in. all but squealing, mj gestures for ned to sit. “this’ll only take a few minutes. you guys are really saving my ass.” ned gets comfortable next to peter on the couch, who wants to see how far mj will really go. “aw, we are? i believe that calls for a…” ned catches on. “it comes after please…” mj picks up her camera with gritted teeth. “thank you, morons. say cheese!”

that’s the only warning peter and ned get before they’re blinded with the flash. ned does a toothy grin as he leans into peter’s side. peter musters up the best smile he can, hair a mess and cuts burning pink on his face. satisfied, mj snatches the photograph as it pops out.

“pleasure doing business with you two,” she states, you joining the three of them in the living room. you set the popcorn on the table and give peter his ice pack. he presses it to his cheek, kissing the back of your hand. “send me that!” ned reminds mj, helping himself to your bowl of popcorn. she salutes him.

“there’s my star. what do you say, y/n? wanna take one more really quick?” mj suggests, already holding up her polaroid. you take the other cushion next to peter, your head on his shoulder. “can peter be in it with me? since he’s in the modeling mood tonight.” he wraps an arm tightly around you. “let’s do it, sweetness.”

eagerly jumping in front of you two, mj crouches down to get a better angle. “on the count of three. one, two, three!” the camera clicks, and you surprise peter by laying a smooch on one of his cheeks. he’s holding the ice against his other, genuinely smiling for this picture. ned coos at you, mj showing off her work when it dries.

“how adorable,” she says sarcastically but means it. peter nods at her in appreciation, his lips brushing the side of your head. “what can i say, you’re a pro,” you compliment mj. “come on, em!” ned cheers through a mouthful of popcorn.

tonight was an unexpected and exciting mess, even if your date night did get crashed.

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction

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matsbarzal · 3 years

Note

Hi my dear!!! I’m here to request another fic/blurb bc I cannot get enough of all the ones you’ve written for me/others so far! 🤩💕

If it’s still available, could you please do random/au #4 the moment you look into their eyes... you just know. with Mat Barzal??? Thank you so much! 💙💙

au #4. the moment you look into their eyes... you just know.

pairing: mat barzal x reader word count: 1.2k

They always said, the day you found your soulmate… you just know. It was something in their eyes, they always said, like everything finally clicked in your soul, both halves finally complete after years of being separated by time and distance.

As the years went by, it seemed probable to you that you’d never meet your soulmate. There was never any twitch inside, never a pull or a need to go somewhere you weren’t. You had deduced it to the fact your soulmate wasn’t looking for you simultaneously, they didn’t care to find you, or they just didn’t care to find you yet.

Everyone had their examples of the worst way they’ve met their soulmate. Some while they were out for dinner with their significant other at the time, some in the middle of a rivalry high school football game, and some? Well, some apparently met in the middle of a National Hockey League game.

Number Thirteen’s eyes bore into yours from his spot on the bench, his entire body turned so he could stare at you, a look of confusion slowly fading into a look of understanding, and then he was shoving into number nineteen. Beauvillier, as his jersey said, whipped around to look over the crowd, his eyes eventually falling on you just rows back from their bench.

You could feel it, every time number thirteen looked at you, every time your eyes met for even a second. He was the person you had been waiting for, for so many years, and who was to even say you’d see him again after the game?

Both gazes were ripped off you when their line was told to get on the ice, number 13, or Mathew Barzal as your parents had told you the moment they realized what was going on. Mat had tried to keep his focus on the ice, on the puck on his stick, on the weaving players around him.

Everyone could see the distraction in his movements, the puck flying far left of the net, his speed not up to the caliber it usually was. After two periods of impeccable hockey from the Islanders’ forward, just to crash midway through the third, his teammates were confused and so were his fans.

The end of the game came quicker than you were hoping, Mat’s eyes attempting to never leave yours as he went down the tunnel. The tunnel walls cut through that almost immediately, disappointment settling in your stomach when you realized it was unlikely you’d be able to get a chance to see him again until God knows when.

“We could wait, darling? Maybe he’ll send someone to look for you?” shrugging your shoulders gently, you pursued your lips as you looked around, people eager to get out of the arena to miss the traffic that they were going to inevitably be stuck in regardless.

“No point, probably, like anyone’s even going to be able to make it through all these people. May as well just—”

Your words were cut off by the sound of something slamming against the glass behind you, all three pairs of eyes turning their bodies to look at the source. The puck didn’t leave a mark on the glass, but the person staring back at you through it sure left a mark on you.

He was yelling something, his voice illegible by the chatter throughout the arena. It was easy to read Mat’s lips when he was only saying two words multiple times in a row, hoping you’d eventually be able to hear him, or at least try to.

“Stay there,” you could even see the huff in his voice, the aggravation from the crowd taking forever to clear out, and not quietly at that.

You nodded your head back, a look of awe in your eyes as he grinned up at you cheekily. Winking at you, he quickly made his way back down the tunnel again, two of his teammates peering out around him to see what he was so eager to get to after the game.

“We’ll go wait in the car, hun. Give you some time to… acquaint yourself,” nodding at her, you watched both your parents follow the departing fans as you sat back in your seat, thumbing through your phone and eagerly looking around you every few seconds.

It was only minutes later when you heard footsteps slamming down the stairs next to you, most of the building cleared out. Turning to the sound, you were instantly met with the same eyes that had just… made it click inside of you. The pull was even stronger with you being so close to one another, even more eager to encourage you to get closer to the man now just steps away from you.

“Couldn’t have like… come to a game that wasn’t dire for our playoff push, huh? Already distracting me and I don’t even know your name?”

You couldn’t help the guffaw that fell from your lips at his words, a small grin taking over your face as you stood up and extended your hand towards him. “Y/N, sorry for distracting you. Fate works in funny ways, Barzal.”

Nodding his head with a laugh, his hand instantly engulfed yours and before you realized it, he was pulling you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around your back as his chin gently placed itself on the top of your head. It didn’t take much thought to hug back. For the fact he had just played almost an hour of hockey, he didn’t even smell awful.

Pulling back, the grin never leaving his face as he looked down at you. “Never thought I’d meet my soulmate, to be honest with ya. Tito, Beau, Anthony Beauvillier, always told me to just wait it out, suck it up and eventually you’d come around. Em, his soulmate, showed up almost four months ago. Guess I had to top him by finding mine in the middle of a game, huh?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you just laughed and nodded your head. “Pretty sure it’s a double-whammy for him too, you’re beautiful, and our first look is ten times better than his story.”

“Oh, I’m sure his soulmate and their story are just as beautiful. Just maybe not as great as ours.”

Nodding his head, Mat just shrugged his shoulders as he gestured to the teammate that was now standing at the top of the stairs to your aisle.

“They met in a Walmart parking lot in the middle of a snowstorm back near his hometown, he almost ran her over with his car. Tito always says she came around swinging before they even made eye contact, you’ll love them, everyone does.”

“Are we going to keep talking about your teammates and their soulmates, or are you ever going to kiss yours?”

Surging forward at your words, all elements of the previous conversation now gone when Mat pressed his lips to yours. The fireworks in your brain set off immediately, the butterflies in your stomach jumping around the moment your lips made contact for the first time. It was definitely something you wouldn’t mind happening forever, his lips eagerly pressing against yours as his hand cupped your cheek, the smile pressed into your lips a clear sign that he was thinking the same.

note: im literally obsessed with you, thank you for being my biggest supporter always!! i hope this blurb is fit perfect to the request, and thank you for requesting, ily <3

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manikas-whims · 3 years

Text

Recently, I'm seeing a rise in the most awful misinterpretations of some characters in Six of Crows, so I'm gonna address how wrong they are.

Before I start: if you haven't said any of what I'm going to mention here, then it means I'm not pointing fingers at you. Don't take offense for something you didn't do.

Now I'm gonna try to keep it as short as possible...

Part 1

"I don't think Inej loves Kaz." "Inej doesn't love Kaz as much as he does her." "Inej is ignorant." bla bla bla...

A cousin of mine (15 yo) read the books and said the same things as above.

I asked her what does love mean to her and she responded it meant "two people showing their emotions by acts like kisses, cuddles, etc." and "by being together with that person by the end of the story".

Obviously, that's not all to love. Younger audiences tend to not take note of the faint nuances the same way grownups do. Its just like watching disney movies and only later realising the ambiguous meanings in certain dialogues. But we can't simply say that age plays a major factor here.

While SoC is a YA novel and aimed for age groups 13-17 mostly, many adults enjoy the books.

I myself read the books this year (23 yo) and my perception of love is different from my cousin's. Love isn't simply an emotion or feeling or gestures. LOVE IS WORK. It requires both the parties involved to put in equal effort.

And so, when Inej says "I will have you without armor." , she isn't being ignorant at all. She does mean it in the literal sense. But also more than that. Inej is an honest person and says whats on her mind freely. She expects the same honesty in return. She says this dialogue because while Kaz seems to know a good amount about her— her full real name, how she was taken to Ketterdam and sold to Tante Heleen, etc. Inej knows nothing about him, not even his real name. The first thing she learns about him is that he had a brother and a vague "i had a lot of things."

And even with things Kaz doesn't know about her, she's ready to share. She tells him that it was easy for her to entirely dissociate when seeing her clients but she couldn't do it with one guy, the guy who'd seen her perform on the high wire as a kid. She shares this deep, awful experience with him and says its not easy for her either. In doing so, being honest about her past, she encourages him to take a step as well. To try and be a little honest about himself, share a small part of himself. She wants him to put some effort into their relationship because a simple "i want you" isn't enough. They both need to work on a lot of things to reach that "i want you". SHE ISN'T IGNORANT.

Later on, Inej realises, she can't ask so much honesty of Kaz because that one bathroom scene is an eye opener for both of them. She realises that she may have handled that kiss on the neck but what if she couldn't have? What if she had dissociated on instinct, as her defense mechanism? What if? Kaz adds to all that when he tells her to take the money and leave, forget him. But does she do that? NO. She thinks whether it would be better for her to find a kind man, bear his children and then sharpen her knives at night. And she realizes she doesn't want that because she can only be her true self (a kind woman who wields knives) with Kaz. She can only be her genuine self with Kaz. She thinks "he'd tried, they'd tried. They could try again." She wants to try again with Kaz. SHE WANTS HIM JUST AS MUCH.

Now for a moment, lets consider the other female character in SoC— Nina Zenik. We all call her an "Unapologetic Queen" for being herself, being proud of her body proportions and such. But if Nina was a woman of color, would she get the same hype? Don't say "Yes" because we know that won't be the case. Nina wouldn’t get the same hype for her plus sized representation if she was a poc.

And this, I'm speaking as a Desi. I know what I face in real life from people of other cultures. I've experienced a lot of stereotypes about myself as a South Asian woc. And while not everyone treats me the same, I do encounter alot of obvious stereotypical assumptions about myself.

Similarly, so many people when they read the "I will have you without armor" dialogue, completely stop looking further into Inej. Age factor is very miniscule. Most of this, whether you like it or not, stems from the internalized stereotype that "brown girls are mean and insensitive". Thats how we've typically seen them portrayed in majority of media and that's where many readers' thoughts immediately head to when they read the "without armor" dialogue. Those of you who say the quoted things mentioned at the top, don't bother to look as deeply into Inej's perspective as you do for Kaz or Nina or the others. You simply settle for calling her ignorant.

Did you ever give her more thought instead of reducing her to the stereotypical brown girl?

Did you ever consider that this girl has her own demons? That this girl was captured forcefully and sold into prostitution at 14!? That this girl sometimes even gets scared of touches from her own friends? That this girl finds it harder to handle contact that she doesn't see coming? That she suffered abuse and was rewarded with kindness by the same hands that touched her at the Menagerie!? That at some point she just fearfully anticipated for whatever was to come, be it a gentle caress or a harsh slap across her cheek? That this girl was raped again and again and again every single day when she was only 14? That she was violated and touched in places too private without her consent? That she was continuously treated so by men twice, thrice, even four times her age!?

Did you ever consider that this girl who struggles with so much didn't let her suffering define her!? That she rises above these atrocities and finds a purpose!? That she chooses to pursue her own goals and save any other kids from whatever horrid things she went through!?

Did you ever consider that despite everything this girl suffered at the hands of innumerable people, she wants to try again with Kaz?

For a girl like her to let Kaz kiss her neck completely unguarded (she doesn't have her knives with her in that scene)..to still be able to give her heart to Kaz, is a very beautiful thing. It means she trusts him so much more than she'll ever trust any other person..

Everyone expresses themselves in different ways. Thats what makes each human so unique. Just because Inej isn't saying poetic things in her pov chapters, doesn't mean she loves Kaz any less.

Inej Ghafa loves Kaz Brekker. And she always will. But her love doesn't mean she must give up on her own purpose. Kaz doesn't ask her to. And she doesn't ask Kaz to give up his position as the new King of the Barrel. They're equals who support each other in their goals. They're two people in love who will take their baby steps towards healing together.

Inej and Kaz love each other.

Inej and Kaz are together.

Inej isn't ignorant, just misread.

Rant over for now. Next I'll be talking about Matthias Helvar..:)

#inej ghafa #six of crows #pro inej ghafa #kanej #kaz brekker #inej isn't a bad person #y'all are poor readers if you think so #READ THE BOOKS AGAIN

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rocorambles · 4 years

Text

Better Than Imagination

Pairing: Aoba Johsai x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, PWP, Gangbang, This is just pure filth and self-indulgent, Also maybe kind of fluff and smut? Well, as fluffy as a gangbang could possibly be.

Summary: The Seijoh boys find out at a team reunion that their ex-manager has never done anything physical before and they plan on changing that.

Requested by Anon

You’re all sitting around Iwaizumi’s living room, catching up since it’s one of the few times that the whole team is around and honestly, if it weren’t for how much older everyone looks, it really feels like old times. You’re sandwiched on the couch between Oikawa and Hanamaki and both the social butterflies are talking your ears off, but you don’t mind. It’s nice to see Oikawa happy and if you’re being honest, you missed him. Now that he’s officially a citizen of Argentina, it’s very rare to see the charismatic brunette in person. You take a quick look around and you chuckle when you see Iwaizumi and Kyoutani in the middle of their seventh arm wrestling match with Matsukawa acting as referee, Watari and Kindaichi cheering them on, and Yahaba and Kunimi lazily sitting back and watching.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Startled, you turn to look at Hanamaki. “Where’s this question coming from all of a sudden? But no, I don’t.” Oikawa blinks rapidly at you. “Eh??? You still don’t have a boyfriend? Have you ever dated since high school? You weren’t dating anyone back then either.” You flush as they interrogate you and you shyly confirm that you’ve never dated anyone yet. It never felt like the right time to start dating and you just hadn’t ever found anyone who interested you enough to even try. You miss the exchanging of looks above your head, but suddenly Matsukawa is seated on the floor right in front of you and innocently asks, “So, have you at least kissed or hooked up?”. You screech as you try to kick the tall male, but he just laughs as he catches your ankle before you can make contact. “Mattsun, you don’t just ask a girl a question like that! Especially not in front of other people!”

Your face bright red, you turn to look at the rest of the room and your face heats up even more when you see all your juniors and Iwaizumi blushing and staring at you. “Well? Well? Well?” You groan as Oikawa and Hanamaki insistently pester you, intent on getting an answer out of you. Might as well put an end to this before it gets drawn out any longer. “No! No. I haven’t done anything. Forget hookups. I haven’t even kissed or held hands with anyone yet. Now can we all please just move on from this topic?” You’re ready to spit out a random sentence to get another conversation rolling when hands grip your shoulders and suddenly something softly presses against your lips. You stiffen at the foreign feeling, but Oikawa’s lips are so smooth and so gentle and your eyelids flutter close as you sink into your first kiss. Your body unconsciously moves to get closer to the delicious source and before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re completely in his lap as the two of you continue locking lips. You finally pull away to gasp for breath, but when your actions finally register in your mind, you bury your head in Oikawa’s neck in embarrassment.

You feel Oikawa’s head get smacked and hear Iwaizumi scolding him for kissing you without your permission before a gentle grip on your chin forces you to look up from your hiding space. “But Iwa-chan, she liked it! You liked it, right?” You lightly smack his chest, but you nod. “Not bad for a first kiss,” you tease. Chocolate brown eyes darken at your words, but suddenly Hanamaki shoves his face in your line of vision and with his trademark smile he says, “We can be all your firsts right now if you want”. Your mind short circuits at the implication behind his words and you sit there in silence with your mouth gaping at him, but you gasp as you feel a mouth kiss and suck along your neck and collarbone. Would it be so bad to have this group of men who’ve you known for so long and stood besides for so long be your many firsts? Maybe it’s the genuine affection you see in Hanamaki’s eyes, maybe it’s the intoxicating feeling of Oikawa marking your neck, or maybe it’s the soothing stroke of Matsukawa’s hand in your hair, but you let out a shaky “okay” and they all smile at you.

Oikawa wastes no time in removing your shirt and bra and you moan as his fingers playfully tug and twist your nipples. Matsukawa makes a move towards you, but Iwaizumi nudges him away from you. “You’re going last. It’s her first time. You’re going to fucking kill her with your horse dick if you go first.” Matsukawa grumbles something about Iwaizumi just being jealous, but he begrudgingly listens and sits back down, palming himself through his pants. Hanamaki whispers praises into your ear about how beautiful you sound and how gorgeous you look as he removes your pants and underwear. Oikawa and him rearrange yourselves until Hanamaki is lying on the couch, your thighs on either side of his head and Oikawa is seated on the couch in front of you, still lavishing his attention on your sensitive neck and hardening nipples. Your hands clutch tightly to Oikawa’s shoulders as Hanamaki firmly grabs your thighs and pulls you down until his nose brushes against your clit. You moan as his mouth earnestly sucks your outer lips and his tongue dives deep inside of you while his nose continuously grazes your clit. You’ve played with yourself before, but nothing’s felt like this and your eyes roll back as he twists his tongue within you while Oikawa sucks on your nipples. It’s too much and you can feel yourself about to cum, so you try to move away from Hanamaki’s mouth, but he holds you fast and Oikawa roughly kisses you, shoving his tongue deep inside you as Hanamaki sucks on your clit. Your body tenses and you wail as your body convulses, but Oikawa swallows your cries with his mouth and you fall limp in his arms.

Oikawa gently lays your torso on the couch as Hanamaki slips out from beneath you and you flush when you turn around and see his face slick with your juices. Your hips are still in the air from your previous position and Hanamaki uses that to his advantage as he strips out of his clothes and places one hand on your hip, while the other slowly begins guiding his cock into your glistening cunt. The stretch is uncomfortable, but you’re grateful for how wet you are from your orgasm and with Hanamaki’s patience and Oikawa’s encouragement, he finally bottoms out within you and you both groan as you adjust. He slowly thrusts in and out of you and you wince at first, unused to the feeling of something so big moving in and out of you, but Oikawa holds your hand and gently kisses you until the strange feeling turns into pleasure and you begin moaning as Hanamaki’s thrusts become deeper and stronger. You watch with hazy eyes as Oikawa removes his pants and you drool at the sight of his cock, so pretty and dripping with pre-cum.

Oikawa feels his cock twitch at the sight of you licking your lips at the sight of his length and he moves until his tip is brushing against your lips and his head rolls back when you start peppering his shaft with kitten licks and kisses. He gently nudges your mouth open and you obediently begin sucking as much as you can fit in your tight mouth and Oikawa assists you by fisting the parts you can’t reach. It feels so overwhelming in the best way to be filled on both ends and you moan as Hanamaki digs his hands even harder into your hips as he thrusts balls deep inside of you. The vibrations from your mouth and the sight of your face lost in pleasure tip Oikawa over the edge first and he can’t help himself from pulling out and painting your innocent face white. Hanamaki reaches a hand down to furiously rub your clit as he feels his own release coming and when you reach your peak a second time and your pussy clenches around him, he pulls out and leaves sticky white strands all over your lower back.

Exhausted, you let your entire body slump flat on the couch, but a firm hand gently lifts your head up and you stare into Oikawa’s gleaming eyes. “Now, now, we aren’t done yet. It wouldn’t be fair to leave the rest of the team high and dry now would it? Doesn’t a good manager take care of everyone?” You hazily blink before turning your head and your mouth goes dry as you see the rest of your old team all stripped down and stroking or palming their erect cocks. You nervously gulp and sensing your hesitation, Iwaizumi steps forward and crouches down until he’s eye to eye with you before softly smiling and assuring you that you don’t need to do anything, but a mix of pride and lust has you determinedly staring at the remaining boys and urging them forward.

Kyoutani lunges forward and you scream as he fully sheathes himself inside in one swift motion. It hurts, but he’s filling you so well that you don’t know if your cries are from pain or pleasure as he continues his brutal pace. He doesn’t even bother to lift your hips, instead laying his entire body over yours as he ruts into your prone figure sprawled on the couch. You squeal as he harshly bites you in the junction of your neck and shoulder, but the pain of his teeth almost tearing through your skin fuels the burning desire within you and you can already feel another peak coming. You wail as his brutal pace gets even rougher and you almost sob in relief when Yahaba steps in to yell at him to ease up a bit. Kyoutani grunts in annoyance, but he removes his teeth from you and slows his pace a bit and you gratefully look up at Yahaba who now sits in front of you. You eagerly take his cock in your mouth, intoxicated by the feeling of being double stuffed, and the three of you continue until Yahaba is filling your throat with his seed. A depraved pride rises within you as he opens your mouth and calls you such a good girl for swallowing everything he gave you before cheekily ruffling your hair. He moves down to where Kyoutani is still plowing into you and he circles your clit as Kyoutani’s hips begin to stutter and you feel your pussy walls spasm as you orgasm again, Kyoutani following soon after and releasing deep inside of you.

You think you might just pass out. Your body aches and pleasure and exhaustion make your limbs feel like bricks. But you manage to open your eyes when you hear footsteps right beside you. Kindaichi’s face is as red as a tomato and Watari isn’t faring much better. Kunimi trails a little behind the two, but if how red and swollen his cock is is any indication, he’s also not immune to the heady lust filling the room. Watari at least has the decency to look worriedly down at you and ask you if you’re really okay to keep on going and you almost take the easy way out, but your heart warms at the sight of Kindaichi and Kunimi looking at you with so much concern (and let’s be honest, you’d always had a soft spot in your heart for your youngest kouhais) that you smile at them and tell them it’s fine. You try to get up, but you instantly collapse back down, your arms and legs feeling like jelly.

Matsukawa hums thoughtfully. “She’s not going to last much longer. Think you can try taking all three of them at the same time?” Confused about how that would even work, you look at the curly haired man who just smiles wickedly back at you. Suddenly you feel a finger begin to tenderly circle an area that makes you squeal. “Mattsun, stop it! That’s so dirty!” He just hushes at you as something slippery is poured all over your puckered hole. “We said we’d be all your firsts didn’t we?” Watari cradles your head in his lap and holds your hand as you wince at the discomfort and pain of Mattsun slowly stretching your ass, but thankfully the pain dissipates and it doesn’t necessarily feel good, but you feel comfortably full as he works three fingers in and out of you. Deeming you sufficiently prepped, he ushers for Kindaichi to sit on the couch before picking up your body like it weighs nothing and gingerly holding your lubed hole over Kindaichi’s dick. With Kindaichi’s help, he slowly lowers you down inch by inch until you’re finally all the way down and sitting in Kindaichi’s lap. You pant heavily as your body adjusts to being stretched in an area you’ve never even touched yourself and you’re thankful to be able to just lay back and lean on Kindaichi.

Kunimi hesitantly stands in front of you and you feel him slowly work himself into your aching cunt. You're thankful for his slow pace and self-control as he carefully watches you to make sure you aren’t in pain and it takes some time, but finally the three of you stay still as they let you get used to being stretched so much farther than you ever thought was possible. Kunimi starts slowly moving first and you moan at how you can feel every inch of him sliding in and out of you now that your pussy is even tighter than before and you lose yourself so much in the feelings that you begin to rock your hips which makes Kindaichi groan and start jutting his hips to match your pace. Matsukawa, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Oikawa stare at you, so turned on by the image of their innocent ex-manager being so lewd as you shake your hips and wantonly moan. Watari finally joins in and he stands with his foot planted on either side of Kindaichi as he pushes his cock into your drooling mouth and the four oldest boys think they could cum from just the sight of you with all your holes stuffed. Kunimi finishes first and he pulls out and releases all over your stomach before kneeling down and sucking your clit. You wail at the stimulation and soon you’re clenching around Kindaichi as you climax yet again, although there’s now pain laced with the pleasure as overstimulation begins to set in. Kindaichi groans at the feeling of your already tight hole further squeezing him and with a grunt he spills his seed inside you and lies back as Watari chases his end. You moan as bitter warm fluid fills your mouth and you try to swallow, but you’re so tired and sticky white liquid seeps out of your mouth, mixing with the drool trickling down both sides of your mouth and pooling in a sloppy mess on your chest. Kindaichi carefully lifts you off of him and you whimper at the feeling of his cum sliding out of you as he gingerly lays you on your back.

Your eyes close and you think you could fall asleep right there and then, but a gentle hand cradles your cheek and you hear Matsukawa’s low voice in your ear. “Stay awake a little longer, baby girl. Don’t worry. Iwaizumi and I will do all the work for you. You just let us make you feel good, okay? Be a good girl for us.” His words send a jolt of arousal through you. A good girl? Yeah, you could be a good girl for them. You want to be a good girl for them. You forcefully blink the drowsiness from your eyes as Matsukawa and Iwaizumi lift your body between them, Matsukawa’s arms laced underneath your thighs and Iwaizumi’s hands firmly holding your waist. You feel so warm, so safe squeezed between the two of them and you let your arms go limp by your sides as you lay your head back on Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

Matsukawa begins to push in and at first it’s fine. After being fucked so many times, you’re not worried, but you whimper as his girth stretches you far further than anyone else and it’s only Iwaizumi’s voice in your ear urging you to relax and breathe that stops you from panicking. You close your eyes and escape in Iwaizumi’s calming voice as Matsukawa continues pushing and pushing and you wonder if it’s ever going to end. How big was he? But finally, just when you’re about to beg him to stop, feeling so stuffed you’re sure his tip is pressing into your cervix, you feel him bottom out. The boys hold you there for a bit and Iwaizumi murmurs sweet comforting words in your ear while Matsukawa gently kisses you and only when your body fully relaxes does Iwaizumi carefully enter your loosened ass. They stay true to their words and you just lay there as they both begin to thrust into you. You barely recognize the needy voice filling the room as yours and you let your eyes close as you drown in the shattering pleasure that overtakes you. You sob in pained pleasure as Iwaizumi reaches from behind you to rub your sensitive clit and it takes an embarrassingly short time for you to fall apart in their arms, your body twitching and tightening as you reach another peak. You let out broken cry after cry as the two continue to ravage your body, but soon enough you feel the stuttering of hips and uneven strokes and they hold you tight as they both release inside you.

Thoroughly spent, you let them lay you back down on the couch and you don’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed as the nine men who’d just filled every hole and covered your body with cum stand and sit around you, all of them unabashedly staring at the mess they made of you. Heat does flare in your face when Oikawa spreads your legs apart and examines the white liquid seeping out of both your holes and you whine at him to stop when his long fingers attempt to push the sticky fluids back into you. You glare at Hanamaki and Matsukawa who wolf whistle at you, but they just laugh when you tell them to go fuck off. Mortified, you cover your face with your hands as Oikawa goes on a whole excited rant about how dirty and corrupted they made their cute manager-chan and you almost punch Matsukawa in the face when he says they probably ruined you for anyone else, so you should just become the team’s cum bucket. But you smile when Iwaizumi knocks them both on the head until they shut up and you cuddle into Hanamaki’s embrace as he wipes down your body with a wet cloth one of the younger boys had fetched. This wasn’t how you imagined any of your sexual firsts from happening, but as you close your eyes and let yourself finally succumb to exhaustion, you can’t help but think this was better than anything you could have imagined.

#haikyuu smut #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hanamaki x reader #matsukawa x reader #kyoutani x reader #yahaba x reader #watari x reader #kindaichi x reader #kunimi x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu #haikyuu writing #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

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may-fanfic · 3 years

Text

A Time For Love

summary: your bucky’s daughter who’s in the closet and dating wanda. turns out, bucky has a secret of his own.

word count: 1,426

warnings: none but feel free to correct me if i’m wrong

a/n: this was such a cute request, i hope i did it justice. hope you enjoy, anon 💕

masterlist

((feel free to send in any request you may have))

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as you got older, the topic of your sexuality seemed to become your main focus. you were often confused about your feelings toward both genders and you never knew where you stood with it all so when you and wanda began hanging out, you never gave much thought about the innocent friendship. it wasn't until wanda kissed you one night did you realize that you indeed liked her.

you knew that as the time went on and the more your relationship with wanda blossomed into something more serious, you knew you'd have to tell your dad. you had always been the best of friends with him and it felt eerie keeping such a secret from him. wanda often encouraged you yet not rushing you out of the closet. you couldn't help the fear that weighed you down, what if he'd look at you completely different?

wanda's hands softly traced the outline of your back causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. you laid there awfully still, questions and concerns racking your brain. "your thoughts are so loud, dear." she uttered out as she pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder blade.

you sighed softly, turning in the girl's grasp to look at her. her gaze was delicate as she looked at you. a gentle smile tugged at the corners of her plump lips when you reached up and caressed her smooth skin. "don't worry so much." she whispered, leaning into your palm lightly.

"my dad's old fashion," you stated, talking about it out loud made your stomach feel as if it was in knots. she let out a sigh, shaking her head lightly.

" we're not doing anything wrong." she reminded. leaning down, she brushed a kiss to your hairline causing your eyes to flutter closed for a moment.

"I'll always be here, y/n. even if it goes bad, I'll be right there for you." you cared for wanda and you knew, there wasn't a chance that you'd keep her hidden away forever. you wanted to enjoy your relationship without all the added stress but for now, you weren't ready and that was okay was with wanda, she just enjoyed being with you.

-------

when wanda first uttered out that she loved you, you realized that enough was enough. you wanted nothing more than to enjoy your relationship without the added stress of your father finding out. you knew he loved you and there was nothing he wouldn't do for you. if this confession changed his views on you, it was just something he'd have to get over. you were done being afraid, your entire life your sexuality felt like a burden in your life, and now it was something that you welcomed with open arms.

it was quiet at the dinner table, you had been trying to work up the courage of finally uttering out those words to your dad. it wasn't as simple as you convinced yourself because now that he was sat in front of you, shoving food into his mouth, you choked on all your words.

"Why aren't you eating?" your dad pointed at your plate with raised eyebrows, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. wanda perked up beside you, her gentle hand traveling under the table and finding its place on your thigh. "um-" you began, looking down at the untouched plate. your thoughts taunted at you causing you to gulp lightly.

"y/n?" he questioned, leaning into the table to get a look at your face. "what? you don't like the food?" he joked lightheartedly to ease the tension in the room but when that failed his smile drop, noticing the way wanda had been gazing at you. "doll, what is it?" his voice softened, his eyes full of concern. his heart dropped slightly at the thought that something might be wrong with you, something he couldn't fix.

bucky had always done everything in this power to protect you and now as he looked at you in distress, he couldn't help but feel like he failed as a father because you couldn't even look him in his eyes and talk to him. and then he feared that you had found out about him and steve, glancing at wanda, he suddenly remembered that she could read minds. maybe she had listened in one day and found out everything that he kept hidden so privately.

if you had somehow found out about him and steve and you didn't approve, bucky wasn't sure what he would do because your happiness was always his main priority. he loved steve but if it was to cost him his relationship with you, he knew it would never be worth it.

you suddenly looked up at him, taking a deep breath causing his eyebrows to knit together. "we need to talk." you suddenly mumbled, and with that, he let out his own shaky breath, not thinking much before he spoke.

"is this about steve and I, doll?" he noticed the way you and wanda both looked at each other, confusion written over your expressions. "what?" you uttered out, your words laced with curiosity.

"what?" he suddenly stumbled, looking between you and the witch. it seemed to be a staring contest for a couple of moments until bucky let his guard down, looking over at you gently. "okay, so it wasn't." you shook your head, your eyes widen but you couldn't help the teasing smile that began to form. your dad and his best bud? you couldn't even imagine it but then you realized that wanda was your best bud too and now it suddenly wasn't so hard to believe anymore.

"no, but let's talk about that." you encouraged causing a warm blush to appear on his cheeks as he stared down at your plate just like you had done moments ago. you glanced over at wanda, feeling yourself grow at ease with that fact that she was just there.

"Okay..." he breathed out, looking at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he thought fondly of steve. he wished he was there to help him break down the foundation of their relationship. "we've been dating for about 2 years, honey." the confession made him feel so much lighter than before and he couldn't help but feel relieved.

"Wow," you whispered, the room itself felt so much relaxed. "I had no idea," you whispered but then wanda made a gentle sound as if she had known all along. she thought it was pretty obvious from the way they looked at each other when they were supposed to be working, she just had no evidence for her theories so she never brought it up.

"I mean..." she trailed off lightly causing a soft chuckle to erupt past bucky's lips as he shook the head at the girl. the three of you shared a lighthearted laugh but once it died down, he seemed to remember. you let your shoulder drop when he questioned you about the original nature of your talk. you didn't feel as nervous anymore as his eyes held a soft reassuring gaze.

"wanda and I are dating." you now uttered it out so casually, you could hardly believe how easy it was for you to say it. bucky's grin grew, his eyes trailing past the two teenagers who were sat in front of him. if he was honest, this was the first time his gaydar failed him and he couldn't be more disappointed. bucky had always liked wanda from the moment she teamed up with steve to help him so if anything, this turned out to be more of a blessing in his eyes.

"you and wanda?" he chuckled, waving his finger between the both of you, you nodded lightly, snapping your gaze over to the girl who had already been looking at you, you found her hand from under the table, intertwining your fingers with her own.

"you better take care of my little girl, Maximoff." he tried his hardest to appear intimidating but the smile gave away his act. "of course." her Russian accent had been thicker than ever as she nodded over to the man. "if you do anything to hurt her, the Avengers will kick your-"

"dad!" your eyes widened and he laughed lightly, putting his hands up in surrender. he knew wanda was a good kid and there was nothing he'd have to worry about but it was his job as a father to protect you and he'd do just that until the day he dies.

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

All Men Have Limits - VII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,500+

Warning: Mention of domestic violence

Previously on…

“The Court is holding session two weeks from now,” Y/N announced to the group.

“How do we know they’re going through with it after all the recent attention?” Damian challenged.

“They haven’t missed one in over over 20 years.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Dick asked.

Y/N took in a deep breath, “We need a diversion.”

“Diversion?” Jason asked.

She nodded. “The Court has two kinds of protection: the Talons and then the protection they either buy or blackmail. The Talons are at every meeting, making sure nothing goes down and protecting The Court.”

Y/N eyed all of them before continuing – except for Bruce. The two of them hadn’t spoken since their argument, and Y/N hadn’t so much as acknowledged him.

“We need to do something to drag the Talons away from The Court – something big,” Y/N clarified.

“Like what?” Tim asked.

She didn’t say anything. Instead she just awkwardly shifted her weight.

“No,” Dick shut down, being the first to put it together.

“It’s the only way,” she countered.

By now the rest of them had figured out that Y/N wished to put herself in danger once again.

“They almost killed you,” Dick started to get heated.

“Yeah, and they’re even more anxious to kill me after the trouble we caused them. We all know it. The quickest way to get the Talons out of hiding is to dangle me in right front of their faces. Make it so easy that they can’t say no.”

They all went quiet.

“It’s a good idea,” Jason broke the silence.

Jason wasn’t one to beat around the bush. He was brutally honest. Also, he wasn’t scared of a risk.

Dick glared at him.

But to his surprise, so did Bruce.

“We don’t use our own as bait,” Bruce finally spoke for the first time.

But he wasn’t even looking in Y/N’s vicinity.

That didn’t stop Y/N from rolling her eyes at ‘our own,’ as if she were actually treated the same as everyone in this family.

“Fine,” she snapped. “So what’s your genius plan for getting the Talons away from The Court and where we want them?”

Bruce was quiet, but clearly because he was thinking.

“B, we only have two weeks to get this together,” Dick tried to reason.

Y/N just continued, “While we’re distracting the Talons, the FBI and Gotham PD can raid The Court’s meeting. Security will be at an all-time low and they won’t be able to fight their way out with the distraction of a Talon defense.”

“We can think of another way,” Bruce said. Then he addressed all boys, “We’re heading out for patrol in 15.”

Dick stood up to join them.

To everyone’s shock Y/N and Bruce simultaneously said, “You’re staying here.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re still injured,” Y/N argued. “You’re stitches aren’t even out yet.”

“You’re staying here with Y/N,” Bruce added on.

Tim, Damian, and Jason all looked at each other in amusement from seeing Bruce and Y/N gain up on Dick.

Bruce muttered out radiuses at the other three boys for patrolling.

“Just to be clear, I’m going back to being a lone wolf when this Court of Owls bullshit is over with,” Jason announced. “But I have to admit, the drama is entertaining.”

“Aww! Come on, J! You know you love the quality family time,” Tim teased.

“I personally can’t wait for him to go away,” Damian mumbled.

“Do you know what a swirly is?” Jason asked the youngest boy.

“No.”

“Do you want to find out?”

Damian looked at Tim for some kind of hint. But Tim just aggressively shook his head in warning.

“Enough,” Bruce warned, but he wasn’t all that annoyed.

When they all left for patrol, Y/N walked to her computers.

“What are you doing?” Dick questioned.

She gave him a look, “Uhhh…doing my job?”

“You did your job,” he countered. “Give yourself a break.”

Y/N knew he was technically right. She already had everything they needed to show the FBI and Gotham PD in order to take down The Court of Owls. Now they just had to wait – even if Bruce wasn’t on board with Y/N’s plan on playing bait.

“Plus,” Dick smirked. “I need someone to entertain me.”

She playfully glared at him. “Oh, I see. So this isn’t about me needing a break. It’s about you needing attention.”

He had no shame. “Maybe.”

Y/N shook her head at his ridiculous, but couldn’t hide her smirk.

“How about I teach you some self defense?” Dick offered.

“Dick! What part of ‘you’re recovering’ is so hard for you to understand?”

He had the audacity to laugh at her reaction. “Fine. Fine. But you should learn a few things at some point.”

Then Dick started walking to the training area, specifically where all the gymnastics equipment was.

Y/N hadn’t seen anyone using it while she was down there, but she assumed it was mostly for Dick.

Without warning, Dick did a press handstand mount on the balance beam, and then he held the handstand.

“Dick! Stop!” Y/N said in a panic.

And she did exactly what he wanted, leaving her computer and walking down to where he was on the balance beam.

“What?” He shrugged as he now stood on the balance beam. “It’s just a handstand. Relax.”

“I swear to god, Dick Grayson, if you do a fucking flip on that thing…”

“You’ll what?” He challenged with a smirk. “Come up here and stop me.”

Y/N crossed her arms and glared at him. “Fine. I will.”

Dick was beaming from his success.

Y/N might not be a gymnast or a vigilante the same way as all of them, but she wasn’t completely hopeless when it came to athletics. She managed to lift herself up enough to sit on the balance beam.

However, standing up was an entirely different thing.

“Fuck,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

“You got it,” Dick encouraged.

But he was still walking across towards her as if the thing was a runway.

“Have these things always been this fucking narrow? I thought it was like width of bleacher seats.”

Dick chuckled as he offered her a hand.

“I got you. Come on,” he urged her softly.

Y/N slowly stood on the balance beam, but gripped Dick’s hands tightly.

“I have some newfound respect,” she laughed lightly as she looked down at their feet.

“Harder than it looks,” Dick agreed.

“Do you think you could’ve gone to the Olympics?” Y/N genuinely asked.

He shrugged, “Who knows. Probably not.”

But Y/N knew he was most likely being modest.

Then Dick let go of her hands to grip her waist, “Try walking.”

“I feel like we’re in Dirty Dancing. You know, like the scene where they’re working on lifts and walking across the log in the woods.”

He smiled.

Y/N lost her balance a little bit and panicked.

But Dick’s grip on her waist was strong. “You’re OK. I got you.”

It was hard to focus on balancing and walking when his gentle voice said things like that to her, making her stomach drop and her heartbeat quicken.

And it all proved to be too much when Y/N really lost her balance and there was no stopping her from falling. She shoved into Dick too hard, making him lose his grip as well.

But as they fell, Dick quickly maneuvered their bodies so he took the fall and caged her body protectively.

Y/N instantly sat up in hysterics.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Are you OK?” Y/N cried out as her eyes went down to where he still had stitches, half expecting blood to be on his t-shirt from the wound reopening.

But Dick was laughing his ass off.

“It’s not funny!” She slapped his chest.

“I’m not made of glass, Y/N.”

She couldn’t keep her own amusement in check much longer and started laughing along with him.

But then Dick’s phone lit up and vibrated beside them. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when they fell.

Y/N didn’t mean to look. She really didn’t. But her eyes couldn’t stop from reading the name ‘Barbara Gordon’ on the screen.

Her smile dropped for some reason.

But Dick didn’t see the problem.

He casually reached over and looked at the message.

Y/N moved off of Dick. “Texting your ex?”

Dick narrowed his eyes at the framing of her question. “Do you know every woman I’ve ever dated?”

She smirked at that. “Maybe.”

“Yes, I am. She’s a friend.” He tilted his head. “Don’t you stay in touch with any of your exes?”

Y/N shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t really have any ex-boyfriends. Just…” she hesitated, “people I’ve hooked up with or whatever.”

Dick nodded slowly.

“Why hasn’t she been around?” Y/N changed the subject quickly.

“She’s been working her own case – had to go undercover for awhile.”

She nodded. But wasn’t looking at him as they talked now.

“You know…just because that’s what’s happened in the past doesn’t mean that it always has to be that way,” he told her quietly.

“Easy for you to say.”

Dick winced a bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her gaze finally moved up from the floor to his. “You’re a serial monogamist. Being in relationships is easy for you.”

“That’s what you think of me?” Dick couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “You think I don’t know how to be alone?”

“I didn’t say that,” she quickly defended.

“But that’s what you were implying.”

Y/N got up from the mats and started to leave.

“No. Don’t do that,” Dick caught her arm.

“Do what?” She challenged as she pulled her arm away from him.

“Don’t make up problems that don’t exist, Y/N.”

She huffed at that.

“Yeah, I’ve been in serious relationships for most of my life. Not because I didn’t know how to be alone, but because I loved them.” He shook his head. “I know men have treated you like shit, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same.”

“What are we even talking about, Dick?” She shot back.

How did they get from messing around on a balance beam to discussing their non-existent relationship?

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You’re one of the smartest people I know. Act like it.”

It wasn’t until now that Dick saw how Bruce and Y/N were similar. He’d never met anyone else that could push people away like they did. But it was clear they both thought it was easier and less complicated to isolate themselves.

Maybe that’s why they gravitated toward each other. Like if the faced it together than they were cheating their way out of their own rules.

Except Dick couldn’t help but wonder what Y/N’s life could look like with someone who really loved her, who showed her that she didn’t have to face the world alone. Obviously he wanted to be that person for her. But his ego wasn’t too proud to allow someone else to do that for her. Even if it hurt like hell.

“Dick, I can’t–”

But he didn’t let her say another word, and his lips crashed against hers.

She tried to be stubborn and pull away, but he wasn’t letting her get away.

Dick deepened the kiss. This wasn’t like the night of the gala. It wasn’t innocent and soft. No, this was filled with fire and infatuation.

Dick wasn’t being polite anymore. His hands slipped under her t-shirt to grasp her waist, needing to feel her and refusing to allow fabric between his touch and her skin.

Maybe he was trying to prove something to Y/N now.

But just when Y/N was about to push it further, Dick pulled away.

Their lips were both swollen.

And he kept close to her, tempting her with another kiss – but not giving in.

“You don’t want to talk about it? Fine.” His voice was raspy.

Eventually he’d push her to talk about them. For now, he’d let her figure things out.

“But don’t convince yourself that I’m no one to you.”

———————

Y/N couldn’t sleep.

Her mind was restless.

She knew Dick had been right: she was trying to point out issues that didn’t exist, picking unnecessary fights.

Getting Dick frustrated was a great way to stop herself from actually reflecting on how she was starting to feel about him.

Instead of tossing and turning in bed, Y/N decided to go to the library. She hadn’t spent much time there – too busy practically living in cave. But it had intrigued her since she arrived. It was so beautiful, and even large enough to hide in.

She was a hour or so into a book she grabbed from the shelves when someone cleared their throat.

Y/N jumped in fright and looked up to see Bruce leaning against one of the book shelves.

His hair was wet and he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Clearly he’d just taken a shower.

“You’re back early,” she noted.

It wasn’t even 4AM yet.

“Quiet night. The boys had patrolling handled.”

She just nodded and went back to her book.

But Bruce’s presence made it impossible for her to even focus enough on the words to keep reading. So, she faked it.

“I owe you an apology.”

Her stare snapped up.

“I should not have spoken to you the way I did.”

Y/N was silent.

“It was unfair, and I was mistaken. I apologize.”

Y/N watched him for a moment before saying, “Apology accepted.”

She expected him to leave after that. He’d checked his little box. Now they could both move on.

“I was scared,” Bruce confessed. “That I was going to find you dead. And then I was scared Dick would lose it and…” His words died out.

“Well… you hid that very easily.”

“I have to.”

“I know. But you don’t realize how frustrating that can be for other people.”

Bruce sighed and frowned. “I understand.”

Y/N finally put her book down and got up from the love seat to slowly walk to where Bruce was standing.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” she apologized softly. “And I’m sorry for scaring you. I was only doing what I thought was right.”

Bruce didn’t even realize what he doing until he pulled Y/N into his arms and felt her bury her face into his chest and hug him back. He tightened his hold around her, breathing in her hair.

Y/N was surprised by his hug, but she was grateful for it.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. It was either his body wash or his cologne, but Bruce always smelled like musk and wood. Y/N was rarely close enough to smell it this well. But when she did, it instantly soothed her.

“Why are you up so late?” Bruce asked when they finally pulled away.

Y/N let out a long sigh, “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”

“You do not know how to make tea,” she answered while trying not to laugh.

“I am not as hopeless in the kitchen as you’d imagine,” he told her with a smirk.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she replied, as she followed him downstairs.

True to his word, Bruce made Y/N lavender tea, making it just as Alfred had taught him as a child.

He gave her a smug smirk when he handed her one of the mugs and saw how surprised she was by him.

Y/N never expected he would linger.

But an hour later, they were still sitting on the barstools at the island.

The conversation was slow, but light.

Now that Y/N had spent so much time with the family, she mostly talked about the boys with Bruce, asked him questions about each of them.

It was easier for him to talk about them than himself – or them.

Little did Bruce know, Y/N was learning so much more about him from the way he talked about all of them.

Bruce was subtle, but Y/N could tell how proud he was of all of them – even Jason, who he had a tumultuous relationship with. He loved them with all his heart, even though he was terrible at showing it.

“Damian’s the only one who still lives here. Tim has a penthouse in the city. And Dick is constantly jumping around place to place. But it’s been...nice having them around so much recently,” Bruce admitted with hesitation.

“And what about Jason?” She asked. “He never seems to stay here.”

Bruce hid his sadness and disappointment well, but Y/N could still see it.

“I’m lucky Jason even speaks to me,” he answered darkly. “He tends to like his space and prefers to…keep to himself.”

She nodded, not forcing the subject more.

But then her eyes got a glimpse of the clock. And she looked inside her now empty mug. How long ago did she finish it?

“I should probably attempt to get at least a couple hours of sleep,” she murmured as she got up from the stool.

Bruce nodded, and did that thing where men stand up as soon as a woman does.

No matter how many times he did it, Y/N was always caught off guard by it.

“Thank you for the tea,” her voice was so quiet, but sincere. She smiled, “I’m sorry for ever doubting your skills.”

He grinned and watched her leave.

But when Y/N reached the edge of the kitchen she turned around. “If I asked you a question, would you answer truthfully? And I mean really answer.”

Bruce observed her for a few seconds.

He knew she deserved his honesty.

They constantly answered each other’s questions with questions. It was like a dance – or a fight – which one probably just depended on the day.

He nodded.

“It’s okay if I am. Really, it is.” She took a short inhale. “But was I just another one of Bruce Wayne’s conquests?”

The desperation for honesty was so clear in her face and voice. If he said ‘yes,’ it would hurt her, but she would get over it. After all, that’s what she’d been assuming all this time.

Bruce did not have the words. Furthermore, he saw this for what it was: the two of them approaching dangerous territory.

But he owed her this.

Bruce didn’t break her stare as he carefully shook his head.

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

——————

LATER THAT NIGHT/EARLY MORNING…

Bruce knew Dick would be in the gym in the manor.

Everyone trained in the cave, so Dick knew no one would find him there. And he could workout in peace without being reprimanded about resting and being cautious about his injuries.

Dick had been sprinting on the treadmill when Bruce walked in.

When he spotted his entrance in the mirror, Dick stopped the machine.

He was dripping in sweat, proving that he’d been training hard – too hard for his condition.

Wonder where he learned that from…

“What’s up?” Dick asked as he wiped his face with a towel.

“I had a feeling you weren’t resting,” Bruce said as he crossed his arms.

“I’m fine,” Dick shot back.

But he did a double take when he realized how deep in thought Bruce seemed to me. He was staring off, an extremely unusual thing for him.

“Bruce?” Dick asked with concern.

“Y/N’s parents abused her,” Bruce told him firmly all of the sudden. “Her father was an alcoholic – beat her and his wife. Her mother emotionally and mentally terrorized her. After running away countless times, Y/N was finally able to emancipate herself at 16.”

Dick’s entire body froze. “How do you know that?”

“She told me.”

Bruce didn’t mean to sound smug.

But Dick still took it that way.

“For obvious reasons, she didn’t go into great detail. But I filled in the blanks with research – though she’s hid her past well, as you can imagine. She was homeless after that. Broke in where she could. Tried to stay off the streets. Even dressed like a boy for safety.”

Dick felt sick as he listened. Stories like this were all too familiar to their family.

“One day, she saw someone coding on their computer at a coffee shop. She had always overachieved at computer science in school, and it intrigued her. As you and I both know, she caught on rather quickly.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because she’s not going to,” Bruce replied as if it’s obvious.

Dick scowled, still not putting together the deeper meaning. They had never shared a conversation like this before. And it was confusing him.

Was Bruce trying to shove his past with Y/N in Dick’s face?

“I was the first person she ever shared her past with,” Bruce said slowly. “And it took me far too long to realize that I mishandled her trust. I did not deserve it.”

Dick could see the regret on Bruce’s face as he spoke.

But Dick finally understood what Bruce was actually trying to tell him: ‘If she does you the same honor, don’t you dare make the same mistake I did.’

“I understand,” was all Dick responded with.

Bruce gave a curt nod.

“Need I remind you that the cave has cameras?”

Bruce saw them kiss. But little did he know, it wasn’t their first.

Dick only quirked an eyebrow as if it say, ‘So? What of it?’

-----------

Part 8

Guys, I was 30 minutes early. You’re welcome.

I want to point out that Y/N’s dark past was always part of the story. But I avoided actually including it because I am not a fan of fanfic writers often romanticizing abuse or mental health issues or other serious matters. I just want everyone to know that I take things like this seriously and I’m not just using them as a plot point.

So here is a resource if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence.

#all men have limits #all men have limits part 7 #bruce wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader x dick Grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick Grayson x reader x Bruce Wayne #dick grayson reader insert #bruce wayne reader insert #batboys #batfam #batman x reader #nightwing x reader

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tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

Text

This Is New For Me

Loki x Reader

Summary: Life on Asgard can be straining - especially if the God of Mischief has taken a liking to you.

Warnings: Loki being so terrible at flirting it physically hurts, bullying, this got way angstier than I initially intended

Words: ~2800

A/N: I’ve written this trying to distract myself from personal problems, but honestly I can’t think straight rn. Dunno I kinda hate how this turned out but here you go I guess...sorry.

Loki Odinson must really despise you.

No matter how often Thor would stand up for his brother and try to justify his behavior, there was no other explanation for you other than that he must truly hate you with every essence of his being.

In the beginning, having been invited in the palace to train magic under the Allmother sounded like a once-in-a-lifetime chance - yet all that’s left from your initial excitement had been replaced by pure annoyance.

Lately, whenever you knew that you had to attend class with that certain raven-haired prince, your insides would churn before you even arrived.

Weeks have turned into months, never once ceasing his condescending remarks or childish pranks. Of course, he wasn’t called the God of Mischief for nothing.

All nine realms had tales to tell about his sheganinans - yet with you, he seemed especially invested. There was not one encounter where he could leave you at peace, always ending with you being victim to his wicked humor.

The man did not seem to respect you at all - and it made you furious.

Today, you’d show him just what you were capable of!

“Greetings, great Allmother.” Polite as always, you bowed deeply in front of your queen, her magnificent presence still making you jittery beyond belief.

“No need for formalities, my lovely student” she responded heartily, only making you admire her even more - until a loud, exaggerated sigh cut through the calm atmosphere.

“Her again?” There he stood, maintaining his defensive pose as he rolled his eyes at you. “Mother, why would you keep on bringing a lowlife like her to defile this holy place?”

This was probably the millionth time that Frigga apologized deeply for her son’s behavior, and you were always amazed by her patience with him. How could a person so formidable end up raising such a troublemaker?

But then again...if she believes that there is good in the God of Mischief, then so would you.

“For today, I have prepared a spell that can only be cast by two mages at once”, Frigga explained, while Loki would still not bid you a single look. “So throughout this lesson, you will need to work together to succeed.”

Irritation was clearly visible on his face - and if you were perfectly honest, you weren’t really fond of that idea either. Yet if it was your scolar’s wish, none of you would protest.

“Spontaneous creation of complex concepts puts a huge stroll on one’s mind and body, so do not be frustrated if it doesn’t work within the first try.”

The idea was simple: Create a blooming meadow in midst of the palace floor, since creating life would be way too complex - only masters of the sorcery arts could take this spell to completion.

You and Loki were now sitting on the bare floor in front of each other and only now you realized how tense he had become, sweat dripping from his forehead and biting his bottom lip.

Was your presence really so terrible that he couldn’t bear with it?!

“Hey” you whispered, taking his hands to form a ring just as instructed “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get this!”

“I don’t need your encouragement...” he spat between gritted teeth, now that you noticed his palms were just as sweaty as his face seemed to be.

One second. Two, tree...fourty....a hundret and two...

“Relax” Loki repeated to himself as if it was his mantra - but now, with your fingers entangled in his? Sheer impossible.

Distraught, he shot his mother a desperate look, just for her to point towards you, sitting cross-legged and seemingly completely relaxed.

Since your eyes were closed, Loki took this chance to observe every detail of your face, without having to fear that you’d notice his little infatuation.

By the norns - you were as fair and bewitching as always. So way, way out of his league. An unreachable, vigorous being. No angel, valkyrie or similar could ever reach up to you - at least in his eyes.

Was this what they called love at first sight? Loki only knew those sentiments from novels he always ridiculed before he got to know you.

Slowly and steadily, Loki aligned his breathing pattern with yours, picturing the cycle of energy the two of you formed. Carefully, he began infusing you with his magic, trying his best to allow yourself do the same to him.

Another minute passed by and you were finally able to let your magic flow through each other’s bodies entirely, like a serene stream.

With things being like this, he felt so different from the Loki you knew.

His magic was strong, indeed - but so gentle, warm and somehow comfortable to be coated with. You wondered-

“HEY!”

As soon as Loki slapped your hand away, breaking the cycle, all of the flowers that had previously bloossomed through you would wither in an instant.

“What the hel do you think you’re doing, you mewling quim?!” Loki shoutet as loud as his lungs allowed him to, while his mother’s face distorted in second-hand-embarrasment at her son’s choice of words. “Who do you think you are?!”

“I-I’m sorry, I just-” You only wanted to scan his emotions through the magic bond you shared, just peek under the cover for a mere second - what was he so afraid of you to find?

“Know your place, woman!” The god pointed at you before he rushed up, ignoring the ache in his heart as he saw your face contort in sadness. “You are beneath me, never forget that!”

Why were you even surprised?

“You’re right” you sniveled quietly as you balled a fist in your dress, and Loki hated himself so much that he wished to just disappear. “My apologies. You don’t have to put up with me ever again.”

As always, instead of fighting, you made your leave without ever fighting back.

Frigga’s pleads for you to stay and talk this over were all for naught when you rushed away, muttering curses directed towards youself rather than anyone else.

Instead of scolding her son, she’d punish him through her silence, furiously shaking her head as she rushed away as well.

Why did he always have to ruin everything?!

The God of Mischief was very well aware that whenever you were close, his mind went completely blank - and that made him panic.

Never before he had felt so goddamn vulnerable in front of anything, terrifying him beyond belief.

And Loki loathed that feeling: Losing control over himself, being reminded once again how alone and unloveable he is, facing a goddess as stunning as you are every single day.

So he concluded it to be best to cope like he did all those millenia: Cover up those insecurities, shove his anxieties in the back of his heart and protect his heart from anyone coming close.

Good thing you believed that presumptupus, disoblinging duplicity of his to be his true self.

That would make it easier for the both of you, having as much distance as humanly possible. Vicinity could become dangerous terrain.

Yes, he would only save you some time - it would be a waste if you would try to actually give him a chance, just to be let down by what kind of disappointment he truly was.

But it wouldn’t end here - since the only way Loki Odinson first and only communication was through causing mischief.

A scream of yours startled the servants early in the morning, with your personal maiden being the first to rush to your side.

“Milady, wha-” She stopped in her tracks as she saw you standing in front of the mirror, touching your scalp in disbelief, where everything had been cut short.

That was it. Enough of it!

Dismissing the servants, you took a scissor and tried to at least make an acceptable hairstyle out of the mess he had made, before you would leave to the royal garden.

“You!” Pointing towards Loki, innocently sitting on a bench to watch the sunrise, you screamed and let a strand of hair run from your fingers to the floor. “You did this!”

“Now relax, would you” he chuckled, wearing his smug grin like a trophy as he defendingly held his hands into the air. “You should be grateful, it looks much better like this.”

Next thing he knew was the feeling of your backhand, mercilessly crushing against his collarbone.

Usually, you’d be shocked at yourself, for you had never been a person to choose violence ever before - but right now, you were too full of anger and hurt to even realize.

“You conniving craven pathetic worm!” you exclaimed, breathing heavily as you swung yet another fist towards the prince - however, he grabbed your wrists, trapping you in his hold.

In his life full of wrongdoings, he had been called worse than that - yet still, hearing insults coming from you of all people shot arrows through his heart with every word escaping his lips. Not that he’d ever admit, though.

“It was just a little prank.” Loki would’ve never thought that his actions would affect you this much. “What are you so worked up about?”

“All this time I believed there could be a good person beneath all that...but now what?” The compassion you detected in his eyes were only upsetting you even more. “You are a selfish, cruel and terrible person, and I gave up on you.”

Loki let go off of you, staring at you in disbelief:

You actually believed in him, all this time?! That was impossible!

If anything, the Odinson had always believed you to ignore his existence completely, if he wouldn’t use such drastic measures to attract your attention.

“Wait a second, I-”

“I hope you know that you deserve to be alone...” you sniveled, turning around to face him one last time before you fled the scene. “And you always will be.”

Several minutes had passed until Loki had given up in silencing he voices inside his head that told him you were right: He was indeed a despicable being, tainting your pure goodwill - repelling anyone that would still be willing to give the God of Mischief a chance.

Out of a whim, he jumped up from his place, wanting to rush after you. He was very well aware that he was probably beyond forgiveness by now, yet he at least wanted to make things up to you - even though he had no clue where to start.

“Calm down, Lady Y/N.”

Thor’s voice drang to Loki’s ears just a mere second before he saw that particular heart-wrenching scene unfold in front of him:

You were lying in his brother’s arms, crying to your heart’s extend while soothed you, softly petting what remained from your hair. Loki remained hidden in the shadows, even though his guts told him to stab his brother right here and now.

“My brother...you know-” The God of Thunder was trying to find the right words, even though poetic speeches were not really his forte. “It’s just his speecial, twisted way of interacting. Who knows where he got that from.”

“I rather wonder if he realized how his behavior truly makes me feel” you snapped back, unwilling to keep defending him. “Weak and worthless, that’s how I feell. And every time our ways cross, he’s making it worse!”

By the gods, Loki never wanted to make you feel that way, let alone think such ways about yourself! He of all people, who knew best what its like to feel unfit and nowhere near enough.

Loki grabbed the fabric of his shirt tight, feeling that his heart might burst if he didn’t. It took everything in him to not let out a loud sob and be caught - but then, his brother snapped him out of it with an impossible question:

“Do you still love him?”

“L-Love might not be the right word, I mean-” Lately, you had let Thor in on your secret admiration for his younger brother. “With the way he’s treating me, and all-”

You just couldn’t help being drawn to him against all reason. After everything you had endured, just to be close to him - and he never even acknowledged your feelings.

And still, here you were, crying over a man that didn’t want you.

“Lady Y/N?”

Loki’s voice made you panic, immediately wriggling out of Thor’s embrace. The Odinson understood immediately, nodding towards his brother before leaving the two of you alone.

“Since when have you been standing there?!” Panic dropped to your stomach, wondering just how much he had heared.

“From the very beginning.”

Before you could even think about what to do now, Loki summoned a dagger, cutting off his raven locks in one swift move. “Wha-”

“Please, accept this as means of apology.” The man now dropped to one knee, humbly facing the ground. “I have never intended to make you doubt your most perfect self.”

Frantic, you were scanning his voice, face, anything for the slightest hint of a lie - but nothing. Loki seemed determined and sincere when he looked up to you, hesistantly taking a hold of your hand.

“This is new for me...” he uttered under his breath as his lips graced your knuckles, and only now you realized that he was trembling ever so slightly.

“I-Is that another trick?!”

“What kind of vicious being do you think I am?” Well, after everything he had commited it was only natural of you accusing him. “There are lines not even I do not cross.”

Only for a brief second your heart felt a little bit lighter, as his eyes were locked with yours, lost in this moment you have been waited for so long...

...a little too unexpected, right?

Suddenly, you tugged your hand away, and Loki could only sigh in frustration. Of course it won’t be that easy for him to gain your trust. “I don’t need your pity, Loki...”

No matter how he racked his brain around the matter, he had burdened your shared past probably beyond the point of repair.

That would be his last chance, maybe the last time he’d ever see you again. He was so desperate in his attempt, and yet - what else could he do?

So for the first time in millenias, the God of Mischief decided to speak from the heart for a change:

"Y/N, I-I...As I said, this is new for me, so...” he cleared his throat before continuing, stress literally dropping out of every pore. “From the first day we’ve met, you...I mean...you were the most magnificent being I ever laid eyes upon, and...when I think about it now, I-I may be enarmored with you.”

Your eyes widened at this wholeheartedly confession, a sincere smile playing on his lips in contrast of sole tears running down his face.

Never before you had seen him like that: Flustered, vulnerable, and honest...

“I thought to be unworthy of your affection, so I tried to belittle you, to...I don’t even know. I’ve been told many times I am quite assertive of anyone but myself. I-I mean, I am a mess...I don’t understand my own feelings and thus drive away any chance of happiness, and...how could you ever-?”

“Mhh...” you silenced the man as your lips crushed over his, falling straight into his arms. It took Loki quite a second to fully grasp the situation before deepening the kiss, his arms wrapping around you as if you’d disappear if he was to ever let go.

“Y/N...” the prince gasped when your lips parted from that breathtaking kiss - and this time it was you who wore that thug grin on your face.

"Apology accepted” you giggled, just to smother the face of this flabbergasted man in yet another thousand smaller kisses.

This had to be a dream, he thought...and immediately, a wave of guilt washed over him. He did not deserve this in the slightest.

“Now, don’t give me that look.” Cupping Loki’s face in your hands, you gifted him that heartwarming expression he had ignored for so many years, thinking it was not meant for him. “That kiss wiped my memory from everything you’ve done...by now.”

Out of sheer, genuine happiness, Loki leaped from the floor and excitedly swirled you around in his arms.

After another kiss that would kick the air right out of your lungs. the god would peck a more gentle one afterwards, as sweet and tender as no one ever thought he could be.

Even if it’s gonna be a long way, Loki would prove to be worthy of your love.

“Lady Y/N...if you are to believe in me, then I swear I will be on my best behavior from now on!”

"Let's see about that."

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki Series #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #God of Mischief #Loki Friggason #Marvel #Disney #Writing #Fanfiction #Self Insert #Asgard

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honeyju · 3 years

Text

home run; lee minho

The four times you try to ask Lee Minho to the winter formal, and the one time he asks you.

genres: fluff, friends to lovers au, high school au, sports au (baseball player minho!!)

word count: 3.8k

a/n: merry christmas!! this is a christmas collab that i’m doing with my friend alice @jjacob in which we write for each other’s ult biases! (mine is juyeon, so if you’re interested in the boyz, i recommend reading her story here, especially since our storylines are a bit connected!) i had a lot of fun learning more about minho during the writing process, and i hope this story represents him well <333

TRY ONE: KEEP IT SIMPLE.

If there’s anyone in the world who knows Lee Minho better than you do, it’s Lee Juyeon.

The two of them have been joined by the hip for as long as you can remember, and if Minho is the relentless tease, spirited and carefree, Juyeon is the gentle thinker, all sweet smiles and wise words. So that’s how you end up frantically dialing his number at nearly one in the morning, too panicked to consider the possibility of him being asleep. You wait with bated breath as the phone rings once, twice, three times before Juyeon picks up the phone, his breathy laugh greeting you instantly.

“I was waiting for this.”

Juyeon’s words cause you to let out a small noise of surprise, and his chuckle sounds in your ear, a little choppy and distant-sounding due to the poor connection, but bright nevertheless.

“What do you mean you were waiting for this?”

“Silly girl,” Juyeon says, and you can tell he’s grinning despite not being able to see him. “Don’t think I didn’t see you look at him when they announced the dance this morning.”

Your face turns red as you recall the mention of the winter formal during the school announcements and the way your head had immediately turned to Minho’s. You were certain that no one else had noticed the longing upon your face when you looked towards your close friend, but hearing Juyeon now leaves you unsure.

“Was I that obvious?” You groan, burying your face in your hands out of embarrassment.

“I wouldn’t worry that much, it wasn’t too apparent,” Juyeon assures you, and yet the spark of doubt in your mind still lingers.

“You think he knows?” You question as you run your fingers through your hair.

“That you like him? I don’t think he’d get that from just one glance.” Perhaps he’s right, for you know that Juyeon is just naturally more perceptive than others, and the things he picks up on don’t tend to be the same as what others notice.

“I hope you’re right. This isn’t how I wanted him to know,” you groan.

“Oh? So you’re planning on telling him? That’s why you called, right?” You know Juyeon’s teasing you by the tone of his voice, and you resist the temptation to whine at him.

“Help me ask Minho to the dance, Juyeon,” you plead, trying to let every ounce of your desperation show in your tone, praying that his response will be yes. There’s a pause, and you find yourself holding your breath in anticipation as you await his next words.

“Well, I can’t exactly ask him for you,” he starts, “but I’ll try to give you some advice.”

“Thank you, Juyeon,” you breathe in relief, switching the call to speaker mode so you can peel it away from your cheek.

“Don’t mention it. First things first, though . . .”

Juyeon trails off without an explanation, and you understand why a few moments later when you catch a flicker of light erupting from your phone out of the corner of your eye. When you lift it up a little higher in your hands, you see that Juyeon has turned his camera on, his face just slightly too close to the camera and his smile filling the screen. You rush to turn yours on as well, switching on a lamp so your face can be seen in the near darkness of the room. After an exchange of waves, Juyeon clears his throat, and even through the blurry quality you catch the blaze in his eyes that suggests he’s gotten idea.

“Y/N, Minho’s at your place right now, isn’t he?” Juyeon asks, and there’s something about his tone that strikes you as a bit too bold for your liking.

“Well, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, “but I think he’s asleep right now.”

“How about you just ask him whenever he’s awake?” Juyeon suggests, and you raise your eyebrows incredulously as you watch him shrug his shoulders like he’s just told you to do the easiest thing in the world.

“Are you insane?” You shriek, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth when you realize how loud you’ve gotten. Juyeon only laughs, his eyes morphing into crescents and his bunny-like smile widening. “You think I should just ask him like that, no preparations or anything?”

“Trust me, Y/N. It’s nice to make things special, but I think that Minho will appreciate your honest confession more than anything else.” Juyeon’s advice is laced with sincerity, and you don’t need to look at his face in the camera to know that he wants the best for you.

“I’m blaming you if things go wrong, Lee Juyeon,” you sigh reluctantly. “But I suppose there’s not really any other way to do it.”

“Give it a try,” he encourages. “I think he’ll like it.”

“Thanks, Juyeon. For picking up so late and for the advice,” you tell him genuinely, and he smiles.

“Anytime, Y/N.”

With that, the two of you hang up, and your head automatically drops to the table to rest in between your arms.

“Just ask him whenever he’s awake,” you mutter to yourself, “How am I supposed to do that? Oh, good morning Minho, breakfast is over there, and by the way, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the winter formal with me?”

The words sound stupid no matter how you say them, and you can’t stop yourself from the feeling of hopelessness that strikes you as you trudge back to the bed where you find Minho laying peacefully on his side. You smile, tilting your head as you watch him for a moment until he suddenly turns over so he’s lying on his back, blinking repeatedly until his eyes focus on you.

“You’re back?” His words are hoarse and followed by a yawn, which you laugh at softly.

“Sorry, Minho, did I keep you up?”

Minho says nothing and instead pats the space beside him on the bed, to which you oblige, instantly climbing in to lay next to him. He inches closer to you, resting his head next to your shoulder and quietly snuggling into your side. Trying to ignore the way your heart has sped up in response to his figure latching onto yours, you recall Juyeon’s words from before, realizing that he’s awake right now, and perhaps you have a chance.

“Minho?” Your voice comes out in a whisper, and you don’t dare to look at him out of fear for your heart.

“Hmm?” Minho’s response is sleepy, slightly muffled from your shoulder but unbelievably soft.

“Are you by any chance going with someone to the winter formal?” You ask hesitantly, squeezing your eyes shut out of embarrassment. Minho makes a small noise of disagreement, and you can feel his head shaking against your side as if in extra confirmation.

A relieved sigh falls from your lips, but your next words get stuck in your throat when you come to the realization of just how scary it is to confess. You can’t stop the swarm of worries that hit you, overcome by the question of whether he doesn’t see you as anything more than a friend, and if asking him to the dance will jeopardize your relationship with him. You know that you can’t hold your feelings in forever, though, and you think of Juyeon’s kind motivation when you say your next words.

“D’you maybe wanna go to the formal together?”

There’s a heavy silence, your question lingering in the air unanswered, and your heart sinks in your chest at the lack of response.

“Minho?” You try again quietly. Dread overtakes you as you guess that perhaps his silence is a form of his rejection, and you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to get yourself out of this one. When you turn on your side to face him, however, you find that he’s already fallen back asleep, light snores emitting from his parted mouth. A small smile creeps up your face as you unconsciously lift your hand to stroke his hair, mindlessly dragging your fingers through the silky strands. He leans into your touch, eyes still closed as he mumbles meaningless words out of fatigue and shifts so he’s closer to you.

Maybe tomorrow, you think to yourself, resting your head on the top of his and letting your eyes fall shut as sleep overtakes you.

TRY TWO: MAKE IT SPECIAL.

Your heart pounds as you tug the door open to the café, peeking inside to find the area mostly empty save for a handful of students at the far end. You thank the heavens for appearing just on time, the familiar sight instantly soothing your nerves. You set the large plastic bag you’d brought along with you on one of the tables, laughing a little as you begin to empty it of its contents one by one.

“Look at you, Y/N,” you mumble to yourself, “bringing this food and getting all dressed up for a man.”

The last item in the bag makes you smile, despite yourself, and you pull out the small box of chocolates that you had bought in the morning, setting it down to complete the collection. You marvel at the assortment of treats you’d gotten for him, shaking your head as you sit down to try and calm yourself from the slight tension of it all. Glancing up to check the time in one of the clocks hung up on the wall, you realize with jittery anticipation that he’ll be arriving soon.

Five minutes pass, and he’s nowhere to be seen.

You think nothing of it until another ten minutes pass, and you begin to wonder what’s holding him up, trying not to let the feeling of unease get to you as you assure yourself that he might just be running a bit late. Your foot begins to tap quietly against the tiled floor, an anxious habit of yours you’d never managed to quite get rid of.

Thirty minutes pass, and you pull your phone out from your side pocket, unlocking it to stare at his contact in part hesitation and part concern.

Should I call him?

You weigh out your options, wondering if you’ll sound too demanding if you call to ask if something’s wrong. However, your phone appears to solve the problem for you, the shrill sound of its ringing interrupting you from your thoughts. You jump at the sudden noise, but accept the call instantly upon seeing the caller ID.

“I was just about to call. Is everything okay?” You ask, and your eyes widen in worry at the sound of Minho panting on the other end.

“Y/N,” he breathes, “I—I’m sorry. Coach is keeping us in an extra hour, and—”

“Slow down, Minho,” you urge, “first catch your breath.”

He hums in agreement, and your face falls when you process his words, realizing the true reason he called. Although you know he’s not the one to blame, you can’t help the feeling of disappointment that creeps up inside of you as you glance down at the chocolates and favorite foods of his sitting on the table.

“You’re saying you can’t make it today, right?” The words come out softer than you mean for them to, and Minho sighs regretfully.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. You know we have that big game coming up tomorrow, and—look, if you want, I can leave practice.” His voice is gentle, apologetic, and tears sting your eyes upon hearing how willing he is to risk getting kicked from the team for you.

“No, you can’t,” you shake your head frantically. “I’m not letting you suffer the consequences of that for something this small. Go have fun, okay? We do this regularly anyways, we can just meet up next time.”

You hear a rustle on his end, followed by the voices of his teammates calling out for him. “Are you sure?” Minho asks, a twinge of concern in his tone.

“I’m sure! Now go, they’re calling you,” you encourage, trying to sound as cheerful as you can to convince him.

It works, to your relief, for Minho’s next words are bright. “You’re a lifesaver, Y/N,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice before he ends the call.

There’s a moment of silence as you look at the goodies once more, before your eyes land upon the box of chocolates, and you pry the lid open to find them already beginning to melt. Reminding yourself that you won’t be seeing him today anyways, and that there’s no use wasting a perfectly good box of chocolates, you pop one of them in your mouth. The corners of your lips tug upwards at the savory taste, and you let out a deep exhale as you remember that you’re not out of ideas just yet.

“More for me, I guess,” you mutter, trying not to lose hope. “On to try three!”

TRY THREE: GO ALL OUT.

The sign leaning against your legs serves as a constant reminder of just how whipped you are for Minho, and at times it amazes even you just how far you’re willing to go for him. Making sure no one else can see it, you take yet another glimpse at the cardboard sign you spent the entirety of last night making, lifting it enough for it to rest in your lap. You stare at the bolded words drawn on the surface in capital letters, surrounded by small designs and stickers in a variety of colors.

I might strike out asking, but will you go to the winter formal with me?

An embarrassed laugh bubbles out of your throat and you find yourself yet again bewildered by the sheer cheesiness of it all. You can’t bring yourself to raise it, however, telling yourself that tensions are too high right now and that you’ll show him later when there’s no potential of the sign distracting him. You set it back down at your feet, and you look past the sea of people to search for Minho in the group of players on the baseball field.

Murmurs of “the score is so close,” “we need a home run to win,” and “we’re gonna lose, aren’t we?” echo around you in the stadium, and your mind immediately flashes back to Minho’s words from before the game.

“If I win, you have to do any one thing that I want for me.”

You had teased him and asked him what he’d do if he lost, but Minho had only shrugged nonchalantly, telling you that he’d do anything you wanted if that was the case.

Looking down at him on the field now, you watch as he readies himself at the batter’s box, and despite the near-impossible chance of him securing the team a win, something about the blaze in his eyes tells you that he won’t be losing today. Just before the pitcher can pitch the ball, he looks up towards the stands, his eyes scanning the crowd to find you. When he does, he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t mouth anything, but somehow through his gaze, you already know exactly what he wants to tell you: he’s going to win.

The pitcher steps forward, raising his leg and leaning back with the ball before he throws it with a single fluid motion. The ball spirals forward towards Minho with immense speed, and you watch breathlessly as he positions himself to hit it. He swings the bat, and a gasp leaves your mouth.

What happens next is a blur, and by the time you can process what’s happening, Minho has already tossed the bat and reached base one. You squint your eyes as you search for the ball, managing to glimpse it right before it falls outside the gates of the field. You cover your mouth with your hands in shock as you look back down to Minho just in time to watch his foot touch the second base.

“He hit it all the way out!” Shouts and exclamations of surprise reverberate around you as the audience rises to its feet eagerly.

Base three.

All attempts to stop him are useless at this point, you realize, for Minho’s already making his way to the final base, his features hardened by determination. Just before he reaches the end, Minho finds you in the crowd once more. His gaze remains locked on yours as he flashes you a small grin, his foot touching the home plate at the exact same moment.

Home run.

For an instant, there’s nothing but dead silence, and then the entire audience erupts into applause, the noise turning almost unbearable as it rings in your ears. The edge of the sign scratches against your leg as you stand up, and you’re reminded of the dance as you impulsively grab hold of the cardboard, getting on top of your seat as you prepare to raise it. When you inspect the field one last time to ensure Minho is still there, you find that he’s lost in the arms of his teammates, all shouting excitedly and clapping him on the back among cheers.

Your shoulders slump as you realize that there’s no way he’ll be able to see your sign with all the ruckus, and you dejectedly get down from your seat, making your way off the stands and exiting the stadium.

As you trudge home, you wonder if you’ll even be able to face him without blushing, let alone ask him to the formal.

TRY FOUR: NO INTERRUPTIONS.

The next time you see Minho, you’re stepping through the open door of Chan’s house, and you’re met with the sight of the entire team laughing recklessly, joking around and shoving each other playfully over a set of pizza boxes. Small decorations and streamers are hung up in colors of red and green to highlight the approach of Christmas, and something about the setting makes you feel delightfully warm. It’s somehow exactly the kind of celebration you imagined, and when you look towards the team once again, you find Minho in the center of all the chatter, just as you always do.

When he catches you standing before them, he freezes, and his gaze morphs into something different, almost hungry, as his eyes slowly trail over your figure from top to bottom. The intensity of his stare seems to burn into you, and you watch in quiet anticipation as he separates himself from the group to walk up to you.

There are no excuses now, you think. No interruptions, no distractions, no reasons to prevent you from asking him.

“‘Come to the celebration party at Chan’s place, and I’ll tell you there,’” you greet, quoting his text from hours before, and Minho smiles sheepishly. “Well, I’m here now. What is it that you want?”

“You look beautiful,” is his response, and your next words are forgotten as your face goes up in flames.

“I’m glad you think so. It took me a long time to find this dress,” you mumble, staring down at your feet to hide your blush.

“I’m not talking about the dress,” Minho says, and your eyes widen as you look back up to search his face. He turns away before you can look too hard, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks turn red. “Anyways,” he mumbles, avoiding your eyes, “you told me you wanted to ask me something too, right?”

“You first,” you blurt, still too flustered from his compliment to think straight. Your words, however, are drowned out by a particularly loud screech emitting from the other end of the room, followed by the booming laughter of the rest of the team. Furrowing his brows, Minho cups his ear and leans closer to you, prompting you to repeat the words in his ear. Another series of laughs sounds from the room, and Minho takes your hands in his to bring you to a more empty section of the house.

“Finally,” he breathes when the two of you are safe from disturbances. “I swear, they can get so loud sometimes.”

You giggle at his words. “Tell me what you want for winning,” you urge him, trying to do whatever you can to delay your turn. Minho’s face darkens, and something about the way his gaze turns intense makes your heart race.

“Look up,” he whispers, his hands tightening around yours. You obey, your eyes drifting up as you find yourself staring at what you think could be one of the most beautiful bunches of mistletoe you’ve ever seen, hanging from the ceiling and twinkling under the soft light. You gulp upon realizing its implications, your tongue swiping over your lips out of nervous habit. You look back down to face him, and you find that his expression reflects the same desire he displayed before, his eyes sparkling as the corners of his lips turn up.

“We can’t break tradition, now can we?” He teases, leaning forward just enough for your noses to touch, his lips barely ghosting over yours so you can feel the warmth of his breath upon your face. When you close your eyes, your own lips parting, he closes the distance.

Time seems to freeze in place as his soft lips meet yours, his hands dropping to your waist as his lips move slowly against yours. There’s a passion in his kiss that you’re reciprocating before you even know it, and a slight smile shapes his lips that you can’t help but mirror. He’s the first to pull away, resting his forehead on yours for a moment as he catches his breath.

“You have to do any one thing that I want right?” He breathes. “Go to the winter formal with me.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, your eyes flying open in shock and immediately finding his as you soften at the sincerity in his face.

“You mean that?” You murmur, and a smirk graces Minho’s features, one you’ve become so familiar with after countless years of him teasing you.

“’Course I do. That’s what you were gonna ask me too, right?” He raises his eyebrows knowingly. You blink for a moment, tilting your head slightly as you process his words. Then it hits you.

"Juyeon told me I wasn’t being obvious!” You grumble, pouting in dismay.

“Well,” Minho laughs, “I only had a small idea that you liked me. What confirmed it was that sign you made—I might strike out asking, right? I may have gotten a peek at it when you left to get water before the game.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t look! That’s not fair,” you whine, hitting his shoulder playfully.

“It’s the reason I’m asking you now though, isn’t it? So tell me, Y/N. Will you go to the dance with me?” Minho smiles softly, the light in his eyes is akin to that of the mistletoe berries gleaming above you. You can’t stop your mouth from pulling into a wide grin, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pull him closer to you, letting your lips answer his question as they meet his once more.

LEE MINHO; TRY ONE: SUCCESS!

492 notes · View notes

waithyuck · 4 years

Text

beautiful

pairing: cambion! lee donghyuck/haechan x reader (f) **halloweenie special**

genre: smut, supernatural au

word count: 4.6k

warnings: brief allusions to darker themes, brief thoughts/desires to harm the reader in a consensual sexual context (reader is really into it and encourages it), explicit language, sexual content, unprotected sex, cumming inside, blood, rough handling, hyuck has a big dick whoops, hyuck is also a half demon so he gets a lil sadistic you have been warned

a/n: this was really fun to write and I’m really excited to see all of your reactions after reading lol

{cambion: offspring of a demon and a human; commonly has physical deformities and can exhibit evil and malicious behavior.}

< previous | next >

~10/17/2020~

~~~~

the world you lived in now was one that society probably could have never predicted back a hundred years ago. you were sure no one thought that humans would live amongst creatures far beyond the common imagination, nor did you think that they thought the human race would still come out on top.

most would assume that supernatural creatures would have taken over the hierarchy easily, but that was not the case for this world. even though there were demons, angels, dragons–you name it, they existed– somehow the humans still ruled.

from what you could understand, it was because the supernatural were threatened since the very beginning of their known existence. unfortunately for them, the human government now had the means (and the firepower) to keep them subdued. they were essentially forced to keep their powers subdued, for the “greater good of the population”, as the people in charge put it.

ever since you were a child, there had been at least a handful of non-human children that were part of your classes at school. not many, since there were fears of bullying and harm from other students toward them, but enough to make a lasting impression on you.

at first, you were curious. you remember one instance back in grades school where you wouldn't stop staring at a young werewolf boy; too young to hide his teeth or his tail. you didn’t stare because you hated him or wanted to pick on him; you really thought he was amazing, but didn’t have the words to explain that to him at such a young age.

you’re proud to say you’ve grown a lot since then. now in college, you treated those different to you as equals, as you should. you try not to stare or question, and of course you’re never mean and you don’t bully, nor do you condone bullying.

seeing the supernatural constantly being picked on was something that always made you feel sick. they weren’t legally allowed to use their powers or strength, leaving them at a disadvantage to cowardly human bullies. you didn’t doubt that if the supernatural were able to fight back, the humans would cower in three seconds flat, and you would have yourself a good laugh.

speaking of bullies, you unfortunately had to pass by a group of girls who were berating a boy you’ve seen across campus a few times. as you walked, you couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could see the boy becoming visibly more upset (or angry, rather) as time went on.

lee donghyuck was usually an individual who kept to himself, most definitely because of his genetic makeup. the experts around the school determined that he was a cambion; a half human half demon offspring, to which donghyuck apparently confirmed. people would constantly come at him for his singular red eye or the talons that were only on his left hand.

to be honest, you were always a little afraid of him. sticking up for him was very heavily outweighed by the fear he might lash out at you for helping, making him feel weak or something. but today something inside you screamed for you to help him, no matter the consequences.

you just hoped he didn’t tear you to shreds with his sharp talons.

you changed course and walked straight up to the group of nasty girls, them not even noticing you until you stepped in front of donghyuck, much to his surprise as well as theirs.

“can you guys leave him alone?” you stupidly asked, your voice not coming out as strong as you would have liked it to. the ‘leader’ of the pack looked shocked for a second, before laughing in your face.

“oh my god!” she laughed, clutching her stomach. “why are you trying to defend this freak? hoping he’ll fuck you or something?”

you felt your face heat up in embarrassment but you held your ground, not tearing your eyes away from her or moving from your spot in front of the half-demon boy.

“no,” you firmly stated, “I’m just trying to defend him from low-lifes who think it’s cool to pick on him for things he can’t control.”

you gave yourself a mental high five for maintaining your composure. you couldn’t see donghyuck’s face but you were really hoping he wasn’t angry. you didn’t turn to face him just yet.

the girl in front of you dropped her smile, a scowl replacing it as she scoffed in your face. she let out a “whatever,” before motioning for her posse to follow her as she walked away.

well, that was easier than you thought it was gonna be.

“why did you do that?” the boy behind you suddenly asked, his voice soft but it still managed to startle you. you turned to face him, putting on your biggest smile.

“I can’t stand when people pick on others for things that can’t be controlled.” you explained simply, looking him in the eye even though your heart was ready to explode out of your chest. “you didn’t decide to be what you are, so no one should belittle you for that.”

he cracked a small smile at you, and at that moment a friendship formed, whether the two of you realized it or not.

donghyuck allowed you to grow close to him, which you thought was the most amazing thing. he opened himself up to you, and you became great friends over the course of the winter semester into the spring. in turn you opened up to him, and the two of you had a pure and healthy friendship.

he smiled with you and joked around, laughing and being playful in your presence. not many people bothered him when you were around, most likely because they didn’t feel like fighting with someone, which you and hyuck were grateful for.

hyuck was always gentle; he never wanted to hurt anyone or anything, not even the smallest ants on the ground. he was very careful not to touch you, in fear he would be unaware of his inhuman strength and hurt you or accidentally scratch you with his sharp claws. you didn’t mind him being wary, but there was a part of that wished he would be comfortable enough for at least a hug.

of course you didn’t push him.

currently you sat with him in an empty art classroom, helping him with his literature paper while you painted the way the sun reflecting off the walls on your canvas. the sun touched his face beautifully, and as much as you wanted to paint him instead of the boring room, you kept your mind on track.

you worked in silence for a few moments, enjoying each other’s presence in the warmth of dusk, but of course no good thing lasts forever, and your peace was rudely interrupted as you heard the door slide open.

“hey, half-breed!” a girl shouted, causing hyuck to grip his pencil so hard it splintered completely in half, shocking you as you watched the top half fly in the air. “who’s this? your new little girlfriend?” the girl smirked evilly, looking at her painted nails before going on. “best be careful you don’t scare her away with your demonic tendencies. I bet you can’t even touch her without wanting to tear her to shreds with those ugly claws.” she snickered along with her posse of friends, and at that point you scowled at them, ready to rip them all new assholes. as you prepared to stand up to defend your friend, he stopped you with his own actions.

donghyuck let a loud growl rip through his throat, turning to face the bullies and effectively silencing them with the menacing sound. it shocked you, but you stood your ground and gripped his jacket sleeve to ground him despite your trembling fingers.

“I didn’t ask to be this way!” he practically screamed, intimidating the group standing before you even further. “do you think my mother asked for this? to have a burden of a son?” his voice was starting to fill with despair, and you could feel it inside you that he was struggling to keep his composure.

donghyuck sniffed and glared at the wall, not giving his tormentors the time of day any more.

“just leave me the fuck alone, would you?” he asked quietly, an aggressive air still present in his low tone.

one by one you watched the bullies file out, most of them shocked at hyuck’s sudden display of hostility. you supposed that they weren’t expecting him to finally fight back after all this time.

he stayed brooding beside you, and when you tried to find his gaze with your own, he shut his eyes as a stray tear fell down his cheek. before you could comment on it, he roughly wiped it away, still not meeting your kind eyes.

“donghyuck…” you whispered, your voice gentle as you tried to get his attention. “will you look at me?”

when he didn’t move or respond, you grasped his hand gently, failing to ignore the way he jumped at the contact.

“come on,” you spoke softly, tugging his arm slightly. “let’s go back to my place.”

he didn’t say anything in response, but allowed you to lead him back to your empty dorm room across campus. it was a silent walk, but you never let go of his hand, and he didn’t seem to want you to let go either, the tight grip he held on you being a clear sign.

when you arrived, you lazily pushed the door open, and led him to sit down on your creaky bed. you tried to pull your hand out of his own to go switch on the lights, but his grip only grew tighter, pulling your arm and causing you to fall down to sit next to him. you didn’t comment on the sudden slightly aggressive way he handled you; you only worried for him as he sat in the darkness of the room.

“...are you alright?” you asked, silently cursing yourself after a moment for asking such a stupid question.

he was silent for a moment, only breathing softly in the quietness in the room, before he sighed shakily and spoke up

“she should have gotten rid of me when she had the chance,” he whispered, his gaze cast downward as he shakily breathed before you. “she told me she couldn’t do it. she told me she wanted to be able to love me.”

you could safely assume he was referring to his mother, and the solemn tone in his voice made you fight back tears. you still never let go of his hand.

“I’m a living reminder of the trauma she went through…yet everyday when she looked at me, she never complained.” at this you saw a tear escape his left eye, the red iris glassy as the tears spilled forth.

“I’m a fucking monster.”

you felt your heart shatter.

here was this broken boy in front of you, claiming he was a monster for things he could have never even hoped to control. he was never malicious; he was always so gentle with everything, especially toward you. He stayed quiet when people relentlessly picked on him, never fighting back until today. as far as you were concerned, there was no way that he could ever be considered a monster, no matter what his genetic make up was or how he looked to other.

“what?” you questioned abruptly, your voice raising sightly above a whisper. “how could you say that? you’re not a monster, lee donghyuck.” he turned to look at you then, his eyes wide with curiosity as he watched you continue to speak. “you have a heart of gold. you’re always so gentle and caring with me, and other living creatures around you. you never fight back and i’ve never seen you hurt anyone.” you tore your eyes away from him, panting as you looked down at your lap, the rant you were going on making you emotional. “you are absolutely not a monster.”

he looked conflicted and turned his back to you, and you assumed it was because he didn’t want you to see what he was feeling. your hands were now apart, no longer in the comforting embrace of each other's warmth.

“...I could hurt you.” he mumbled quietly, and you weren’t able to detect the emotion in his voice. your eyebrows furrowed at the sudden statement, and you were quick with your rebuttal.

“you won’t.”

when he turned around and abruptly gripped your throat with his clawed fingers, you flinched instinctively but didn’t react further than that, challenging his angry gaze with a hard and confident stare. even though your heart was beating through your ribcage, you decided to grip his wrist with your own fingers as you looked at him, preparing to speak with a hard swallow that he surely felt against his palm.

“you can’t hurt me,” you said in a small voice, your lips quivering despite you trying your best to keep your composure. “you won’t. I know you won’t.” you continued, watching his face subtly change into one of confusion. his eyes were still transfixed on you; one crimson red like the blood flooding through your veins, and the other warm and brown, almost inviting you to get closer.

your grip on his warm wrist tightened, your other hand coming up to daringly caress his face, not hesitating to smooth over his soft cheek as he stared at you in complete awe.

“I trust you, donghyuck.”

fuck, you really wanted to kiss him.

he beat you to it though, pressing his lips against yours tightly, causing you to squeak in surprise. you kissed him back with as just as much feeling, your mouths moving together in sync. his clawed hand moved from your throat to rest on his leg (a little to your dismay, if you were being honest), and his other came up to gently caress your cheek as he deepened the kiss with his tongue.

“h-hyuck,” you played, pulling back only a centimeter, hips lips chasing yours. “is th-this okay? are you—“ his lips on yours cut you off, and he hummed into it before pulling away.

“I-I want you,” he stated quietly, looking down at his lap before flitted his eyes to yours once more. “if you’ll have me.”

you stared at him for a moment, overwhelming emotions filling your eyes and heart before you nodded and practically pounced on him.

the two of you kissed like there were no other worries in the world; it was just you both enjoying each other in the dim light of your room, feeling one another.

his hands didn’t touch you, but he allowed you to pull him over top of you on the bed, your back against the sheets as his body laid on top of yours.

with every moment that ticked past you grew more confident, and after a while you began fitting your hips up against his, delighted at the small friction you were creating.

“hyuck,” you whined, your hands moving to grip at the hair at the base of his neck. “pl-please, I want your fingers,” you were begging, but didn’t feel an ounce of embarrassment as his lust filled eyes stared back you, his plump lips parted. “please,”

he didn’t hesitate to help you out of your clothes, careful of his claws as he removed your pants and shirt. he freed you from your underwear and bra, leaving you bare in front of his full clothed form.

his right hand delicately smoothed down your thigh, spreading your legs apart so he could take a good look at you. you were wet and you knew it, and you threw an arm over your face to suppress your moans as he experimentally drug a finger through your soaked folds.

you didn’t have to wait long for him to sink a single digit inside you, and you let out a drawn out whine in response as he started gently thrusting it in and out of your clenching hole.

“is that good?” he asked lowly, not taking his eyes off the sight of his finger disappearing inside you. he was bold enough to add a second finger and even moved his thumb to press on your clit, and you keened at the sudden feeling.

“yes, so good baby,” you breathed in response, gripping the sheets beside you on both hands.

donghyuck eventually worked up to push a third finger inside you, and you practically howled at the feeling of being filled. his fingertips pressed into all your sweet spots, making you feel dizzy.

“mmnnff, hyuck,” you whimpered, catching his attention. he looked at you with dark eyes, his mouth parted as his tongue poked out to lick his lips. “what do you w-wanna do to me?”

it was a valid question, and it seemed to catch him off guard for a moment. hyuck seemed to be holding himself back from doing what he actually wanted, or behaving like he actually wanted to.

he quickly recovered, and withdrew his fingers from you in one quick movement. he moved them to your mouth and you caught the hint, only able to take in two of them. you suckled on his digits as you stared at him with doe eyes innocently, like you weren’t sucking off the excess juices from your pussy.

“I wanna fuck you,” he simply stated, watching you like a predator as you released his fingers from your mouth. “I wanna feel you, y/n. all of you.”

you couldn’t deny him that.

you sat up quickly and moved to tear at his shirt, the fabric peeling over his head before being thrown across the room in your haste. you worked at his pants and was successful at undoing the button and zipper, and he kicked them off his legs in one swift move.

you stared at the impossibly large bulge in his boxers, but didn’t allow yourself to become intimidated.

you would make him fit. you wanted to feel him stretch you out. you would make it work.

once his underwear was discarded, you watched his cock twitch against his stomach in awe. he sat at the edge of the bed, his feet planted on the floor as you moved to situate yourself on his lap.

you kissed him once more before a determined look graced your face, and you positioned your entrance above him, ready to begin.

“what do you really want to do to me?” you asked him again as you sank down onto his cock, watching as his nose scrunched up at the feeling of your wet and hot walls surrounding his painfully hard member.

in your periphery you could see his fingers flex like he wanted to reach out and touch you or grab you, but he was fighting himself. you sat still in his lap, his dick buried to the hilt inside you, pressing against your cervix because of how deep he was. you reached out and grabbed both of his hands, placing them on your hips.

“I w-wanna…” he started, gulping as his hands stayed feather light against your skin, still afraid to touch you fully. you clenched your walls around him playfully, watching as his expression changed from innocent and hesitant, to cold and dark in mere seconds.

his fingers gripped you fully, but he was still careful not to pierce your skin with the talons on his left hand. his right hand gripped your hip posessively, and it felt like he was close to crushing the bone. you gasped at the feeling, but welcomed the pain.

“I wanna hurt you,” he snarled, moving forward to nip at your vulnerable throat, causing his cock to move ever so slightly against your walls. “I wanna make you scream, cry, bleed...everything.”

you gasped at his words, your pussy clenching at the thought of him absolutely annihilating you, leaving you broken and unable to function as a normal human being ever again.

he must have taken your gasp the wrong way, and definitely must have not felt your walls clamp down on him, because he pulled away from your neck to look you in the eye, looking ashamed at his confession.

“you must be scared of me now,” he mumbled, looking away. “I knew this would happ–“

you cut him off by gripping his jaw in your hands, forcing him to face you as you crashed your lips against his. you moved your hands and gripped his hair, tugging roughly as you both made out messily, your body still impaled on his insanely large cock.

“fuck, donghyuck,” you panted, pulling away. “that’s so fucking hot, please,” you began rolling your hips against him, causing you both to groan. “I w-want it, please,”

he looked at you briefly before nodding his head, a movement so slight you would have missed it if you had blinked.

even though he had nodded his head, he didn’t go rough on you like you knew he wanted to. instead, he began helping you lift yourself up and down his cock, effectively fucking you onto himself. he threw his head back and moaned, and you took the opportunity to kissing along his throat and around his adam’s apple. you shivered as he growled, feeling the deep vibrations against your lips.

it felt so incredibly good to be filled with him; your walls clamped tightly around him as you swiveled and lifted your hips up and down on his lap, continuously making the both of you moan out in pleasure. it was indescribable; the way you felt almost overwhelming and you felt wetness forming in your eyes as you buried your face in his warm neck, the tears finally spilling. your broken cries egged him on, causing his hips to lift in time with you, thrusting his hard cock in and out of you with more force.

his soft grunts and groans in your ear had your walls fluttering, and with every grind against him you felt his skin brush your clit, pushing you further and further toward your impending climax. you were more worked up than you originally had thought.

“I-I thought you wanted to hurt me,” you provoked, the pace not faltering as you fucked each other with abandon. he let out a low snarl in response, but still didn’t become rough like you really wanted him to. “ come on, hyuck,” you whined out, tugging on his hard harder.

he seemed to be growing close to his end, his hips moving faster and with less precision. an idea popped into your mind, maybe not a good one, but an idea nonetheless.

you weren’t sure if it was going to work, but it was worth a shot.

you smirked to yourself.

“c-cum inside me,” you whimpered quietly in his ear, and you heard him slightly gasp at the request. “pl-please,” you begged further, your nails digging into his shoulders in result of the stimulation you were being subjected to. “I need t-to f-feel you cum inside…”

as you trailed off he roughly gripped your hips, lifting you off him with a loud growl, causing a sharp whine to escape you at the feeling of his cock slipping from your sensitive walls.

he had you on your back in seconds; lifting your legs to wrap around his waist tightly before he grabbed your hips and hoisted them in the air, pushing his cock into you again and starting a fast and rough pace immediately.

you were seeing stars at this point, not even acknowledging the pain of his talons suddenly ripping into the skin of your right side, causing blood to trickle down onto your clean sheets. it didn’t matter to you, and in some fucked up way, you seriously enjoyed the pain.

your orgasm was building very quickly, and with one final and brutal thrust from him, you were coming undone, his cock buried incredibly deep inside you.

he held you against him as he shot his cum inside you, not allowing you to squirm away as your walls clenched hard around him to the point where it was almost painful. he growled lowly as he emptied himself in your pussy, watching your face as it contorted in pleasure with an almost sinister smirk on his face.

as you came down from your overwhelming climax, you realized that he was still hard inside you, filling you up to the brim with not only his cock, but his cum as well.

you looked up at him surprised, and he only looked back at you with that same sinister smile.

“I’m not done yet,” he growled out, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it before. you breathed out heavily, looking up at him and taking in the largeness of his pupils; they were blown out so wide that you could barely make out the color of his irises.

he leaned his body down over you, his head moving next to yours as his lips brushed up against your ear. his movements caused his still hard cock to nudge even deeper inside you, and you gasped at the sensation.

“can you take it?” he asked, lightly nipping at your ear as he began softly grinding his hips into you once again.

you were sensitive, but the feeling of him moving inside you had your stomach fluttering, causing your walls to clench around him. you could practically hear his smirk as he chuckled, and your heart jumped at the sound.

you breathily begged for him to fuck you again, to really fuck you how he wanted to, and of course he couldn’t say no to that.

his hips pulled back and plunged into your core, the mess of both your juices squelching and spilling out as he ravaged you completely. he kept his face buried in your neck, his panting breaths tickling your skin as he groaned out with each powerful thrust.

you gripped at his back and allowed your nails to scratch down his skin, a desperate attempt to keep yourself sane. each hoarse whine that escaped from your throat only encouraged him further, and he quickened his pace to an inhuman speed.

your clit barely needed any stimulation for you to cum again.

“I-I’m sorry hyuck, I c-can’t,” you breathed out, gasping for air. “I can’t h-hold it,”

he bit your throat lightly in response, soothing the area with his tongue before speaking.

“It’s okay, baby.” he grunted, his hips losing their rhythm slightly as he pressed on. “I’m close too. just let go.”

that was all you needed to allow the band to snap, your second orgasm washing over you in waves. you didn’t realize you had sunk your teeth into his shoulder until he moaned loudly, causing you to open your eyes as he shot his cum inside you for the second time.

his hips continued to buck reflexively, and he lifted his head to capture your lips in a messy kiss, his tongue finding its way inside your mouth immediately.

it was quick but passionate, and you swore you could feel every emotion he felt for you with just that one kiss.

when he pulled out, you observed carefully as his eyes watched his cum drop out of you, his pupils still wide as he licked his lips. he snapped himself out of it when you opened your arms, inviting him to lay with you as you both came down from the exertion.

you played with his hair softly in the silence of the worm, the only sounds being of your breaths. as you closed your eyes, you heard him mumble.

“I think I love you.” he said quietly, trailing his finger up your stomach.

you immediately smiled, your heart warming with happiness.

“I think I love you too, hyuck.”

#haechan smut #nct-writers #neothestars #neowritingsnet #nct #nct 127 #haechan #donghyuck #lee donghyuck #nct dream #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #haechan scenarios #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #halloweenie special

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utterlyinevitable · 3 years

Note

Darling Dom😘 kiss #4 for e&b? Please and thank you🌻

Again.

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Becca Lao) Rating: Mature/NSFW Summary: It’s been three months since the incident. They haven’t been intimate since.. except today Becca thinks it’s time to try again. Warning: Eludes to pregnancy termination/loss Trope: NSFW, Partnership, Pregnancy, In Love, Traumatic, Ethan POV.

#4 …where it hurts.

A/N: from the write a kiss list. Oh Petra thank you for requesting this 💚 I was seriously stuck on what to write for these beans for a very long time. One night I was in my feelings and spilled this out in the dead of night. It’s raw, got away from me and I’m not really sure there’s a coherent plotline. It’s also my very first attempt at smut. This is in the DWHAF? universe with the intended audience of just you and me. I know you’re on hiatus right now and hope you’ll find this soon. I love you 💕

A/N2: this is emotional porn. again, i have done ZERO editing to this. please be gentle.

__________________

It hurts.

Not physically, no.

It’s an ache in the chest that never seems to heal.

Becca thought she was ready. It has been months, after all. Three weeks was the recommended recovery time, her own proclivities chose six just to be safe. Just to make sure everything healed the way it should.

The reality is it’s been three months.

They haven’t had sex since the week before she took that daunting test.

Ethan hadn’t pushed her. It wasn’t his place too. And he had bigger worries than their libido - like the grim look on her face, and getting her back to work. Bringing the color back to her smile. Even when it did return, duller than before but there, he worried.

If Ethan was being honest he hasn’t felt like it either.

So Becca got to choose when they were ready to go farther than sweet kisses and soft above-waist caresses.

She chose tonight; quite randomly Ethan must admit. Nothing about the day was very romantic nor inspiring, everything about it was the same mundane routine they’ve fallen into.

The only difference being the hunger in her eyes as they left work and the fervent kisses up his arm and on his neck in the elevator up to their condo. The way she pulled him down to her lips the moment his key scraped against the lock of their door. Her determined fingers unbuttoning half his shirt before they’ve even crossed the threshold. Shoes tossed in the same motion as their tops.

Ethan gathered her in his arms. Hiked her up around his waist carrying her to the bedroom. His lips never leaving her skin. It’s been so long it feels like the first time. The butterflies and electricity and static and wonton anticipation, he’s already hard and twitching just thinking about being in her again.

He sets her down on the bed as gracefully as a his inherent carnage would let him. Becca bounces on top of the memory foam, her fists gripping at his pants.

Ethan playfully bats her away - a few fingers to her shoulder pushes her back towards the mattress. Now she’s laid out before him like so many times before - her open mouth and flush cheeks saying more than she has all day.

He leans down to try to seductively remove her trousers, wants to try to have a semblance of lasting foreplay. Ethan wants her to be ready. Sure. Confident that it’s the right time. Becca wiggles with splendid impatience that has his devious smirk broadening. He peels the skin-tight pants off her legs and admires his woman.

She’s in the most remarkable unremarkably mismatched lingerie - a horrendously lime green everyday bra and blue cotton panties.

It’s his favorite sight to behold.

Then her hands are reaching for him, opening and closing like a toddler reaching for a parent.

For a moment Ethan falters.

For a moment he’s forced to remember why this time is special.

Why he needs to be careful.

That even though she hasn’t talked about it, it’s a heart wound that may never heal.

Ethan swallows back the emotion that begins to build in his throat. The leftovers of which manifest in the glaze of his eyes. Mixes with every ounce of love for his beholder.

He’s resigned to believe he’s made peace with what’s happened weeks ago. It wasn’t his place to get involved more so than as a supportive partner. He didn’t have a right to make any part of this about him. It may have been his baby but it wasn’t his body, his life on the line. He’d take a thousand more weeks like that one if it meant keeping Becca by his side.

Ethan laces his fingers through hers, uses her as an anchor to bring them closer together until their clasped hands are pressed into the mattress and he’s hovering above her. Until mandarin oranges and peony are in his nostrils. The smell of her mixed with the sweetness of sex starting to transpire on her skin. Until one of her legs hooks around his and pulls him closer.

It’s a tender kiss with soft lips. Another to her jaw. To the other side. Peppers of pecks down her neck. His hands follow to free her breasts, tongue swirling around one nipple while the other is teased by the tips of his fingers. It’s the switches when she groans, perfect lustful reverberations. Then she’s wiggling more seeking friction between her legs, grinding against what she can get from his thigh.

Ethan can’t help but oblige.

Lips trailblazing the plain of her body, hands following until fingers curl in the waistband. Tugs one side then the other down.

Becca lifts her hips eagerly.

The motion shouldn’t have stopped Ethan in his tracks.

But it did.

He has to take another moment to appreciate this sight. Her. His Madonna. His siren. The love of his life. The woman who far surpasses any of his wildest dreams.

His partner.

She feels his intense gaze - his azure eyes weighted down with so much love. It makes her uncomfortable.

Bare and barren in front of him Becca throws her arms over her face.

She didn’t want this. She didn’t want the attention - didn’t want the cloud of despair that hangs over her every moment of the day to rain on this one bit of normalcy. She wanted to get back to the way they were. Wanted to get so intoxicated on him that she didn’t feel anything anymore.

She wanted to go back to before.

Ethan catches the shift. His hands are rubbing up and down her thighs comfortingly, and Becca feels one side of the bed dip below her hips.

The air is filled with terminal understanding.

His fingers are still grazing her upper thighs, to her hip bone, through her tuft to the other side and around again. Drawing a parallelogram around her most sensitive area. Sparking sensations she hasn’t felt in months and desensitizing her all the same.

Becca peeks out from her hiding place. Even in the dampened glow of Boston through the windows, she can see him so clearly. His eyes so dark and large, inviting and questioning.

She forces a half smile.

He responds with a kiss to her lips with every ounce of understanding he has to offer.

His smiles matches her own when he receives a roll of her hips as his forefinger grazes the crease of her legs. Then he gets a moan of encouragement. She parts for him and his finger meets her labia, sticking out like always. He gives it the attention it deserves then dipping further into her folds. Wet and biologically ready.

Further up he circles her clit and the little groan she makes is music to his ears. It’s a groan of pure satisfaction. Deep and pleasurable. Ethan looks over and Becca's eyes are shut once more. Enjoyably light and without creases. Like she’s lost in his touch. Her hands twirling in the sheets in anticipation for what’s to come.

Ethan shifts. Swift movements down the bed to kneel between her legs. She smells sweet and a little like chlorine and undoubtedly like sex and they have barely started yet. It settles deep in his abdomen, his cock twitches.

He wants to keep going.

He will keep going.

He’ll worship her and bring her to ecstasy multiple times.

But, before he does anything else, he leans over.

He leans over to place a delicate everlasting kiss to the inner area of her pubic bone. To the area she’s clutched and cried out in pain over. A quick recognition of what was, has been.

They’ll never forget.

But they’ll move on.

They’ll make it better, together.

__________________________

a/n: woowee this was a doozy. can you see what i mean by i didn’t edit and just sent it off into the void? this was also my first attempt at smut so i hope it wasn’t cringe-central 🤞

thank you for reading ♥

@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

> complete masterlist <

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#open heart #choices open heart #open heart fanfics #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #nsft

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years

Text

Tiptoe around this (Poe Dameron x reader)

Summary: Poe x short!reader. He CANNOT deal with your smolness.

Rating: TEEN

Author’s note: I’m doing soft blurbs this week bc you all deserve a hug from one of our fave fictional husbands. Let’s all destress and be comforted one blurb at a time, okay? (I’m doing these quickly so I can complete as many as I can for you, so they’ll be a bit scrappy, please forgive!) This one deleted itself and then I ahd to recreate it from nothing. The first version was better and probably had fewer typos but here we are. Ran out of time to check before dinner!

Warnings: short!reader; kissing (mildly steamy, no smut or implied smut).

GIF: @thestarwarsdaily LOOK HOW PRETTY

Poe’s dying. He swears he’s dying.

He’s doing his best to obscure this fact from Rey and Finn, however, so continues engaging in casual chat all the while as he hurtles towards his demise.

Poe’s dying, and, cause of death? Your cuteness.

Poe watches you surreptitiously from across the hangar. Watches as you realise someone has stolen your step ladders again, despite the fact you etched your kriffing name onto them in Aurebesh last time this happened. And so, to reach the tools you need -valiantly struggling on with your tasks anyway- you clamber up the face of the shelves and stretch to your full length as you attempt to grab down the box.

It appears you can’t quite reach them, even having climbed into a pretty precarious position.

The trouble is, you’re just too kriffing smol.

And it kills Poe. Every single time.

Of course, your height is only one of the reasons he likes you. He’s never even had a preference for his partner’s height before, to be honest. There’s just something about you. Something about how short you are which brings out his protective instincts. Makes him want to hold you and take care of you and spoil you. And Poe is already the type of guy to spoil his partner, so you can imagine how he feels about you.

Oh, and it certainly helps that you’re so kriffing gorgeous too. And funny. And nice. And did he mention SMOL?

Poe would never be patronising towards you because of your size, of course. He knows you’ve been underestimated plenty of times because of it - by both the enemy and allies- and without good reason! You might be cute to a lethal degree, but Poe is also well aware that you’re badass, capable, intelligent, and fierce. Small but mighty, you could say.

Still, when he sees you on your tippy toes trying to reach the box of parts, his heart melts and dribbles out of his feet. Or, at least, that’s what it feels like.

Death, by cuteness.

As you continue to persevere, Poe stops pretending to listen to Finn and Rey’s chatter altogether, a dopey smile settling on his face. He stands from the chair he’s straddling to zoom over to you, before some other handsome, height-endowed recruit can come to your assistance. He couldn’t have that, now, could he?

“Hey,” he says from behind you, a warm and gentle hand settling on your shoulder in greeting. “Can I help you?”

Poe hopes he can reach the damn shelf, because whilst he’s certainly taller than you are, he’s not exactly Chewy. Now, that would be embarrassing.

“Sure,” you say, even as you huff and puff, successfully grappling the box down to the floor without any further intervention. You recognise the Commander’s familiar, sandy voice before you even turn around, but when you do, you flash him a warm smile, and he could swear -if you killed him a moment ago- that smile has revived him back to life. “You can tell your damn recruits to stop stealing my ladders, Commander. I wouldn’t tolerate this behaviour from my squadron.”

You’re adorable, for sure, but there’s a fire in your eyes telling Poe you are not to be messed with. In fact, he’s sure that given half a chance you could raze the whole First Order to the ground, even if you did the whole thing on your tip toes.

Poe simply looks at you goofily, trying to remember how to speak, your eyes big as you gaze up at him from beneath your lashes. You’re basically a whole head shorter than him, if not more, and he can’t help but want to pull you into a hug, imagining how it would feel to enfold you against his chest and rest his chin on top of your head as his arms wound around you.

“Commander?” you ask again, clicking your fingers in front of his face. “I’m sick of doing everything on my tiptoes - I’m not a ballerina.”

Your gesture brings him back to the real world, and he notices the rolled-up sleeves of your flight suit as they hover in front of his face, his eyes dropping to the rolled-up cuffs of the legs resting on top of your boots. Standard-issue is too long for you and… yes, you’ve guessed it…

Kriffing adorable.

“Sure thing, Commander,” he finally says, still retaining that dopey, lovestruck expression on his face.

You nod to thank him, getting lost in his umber eyes somewhere along the way. He’s always entirely flustered when he speaks to you, and quite frankly, it’s so adorable that it makes your heart melt out of your feet. At least, that’s what it feels like.

You like Poe, and you think he likes you, but... both of you have been tiptoeing around this for far too long now.

“You know, there’s maybe one thing I like to do on my tiptoes,” you say with a knowing smirk as Poe looks helplessly between your eyes and lips, helplessly lost in yearning.

“What’s that?” he asks, and he can swear he intended the words to come out at a normal volume, despite the fact a mere whisper is all that emerges. Still, he’s happy as it causes you to lean in closer.

“Kissing,” you say with a gentle suggestion in your eyes, voice breathy and matching his hushed tones. You think it’s about time one of you makes a move, and it may as well be you.

Poe visibly gulps, and shuffles his feet a little closer to you.

Is this really happening?

He’s not sure how many times he can die and be reborn in one day, if he’s honest. The implication of your words and in your eyes encourages him though. Besides, he’s waited long enough for this moment, and now is as good a time as any, right?

“Kissing, huh? Well, honey, do you think you’d need to be on your tiptoes to kiss me?”

Your tongue darts out over your bottom lip, and an eagerness swells in your whole being, your body tingling with nerves and heat. Your mouths inch towards one another as if magnetised, your chin tipping up and his head stooping lower to greet you, as months of tension is compressed into the diminutive space between you.

“Guess we should find out,” you suggest with a sultry smirk, pausing a small distance from his lips, sharing the same air in the tight space between you.

Poe wraps his arms around your back, his hands feeling large and broad against you. You feel delicate encased in his strong arms, and you grab firmly at the holsters around his wide hips, tugging him close and bringing his body flush to yours. Poe feels warm and big and sturdy pressed against you. You’ve always been independent and capable, and yet there is something about Poe Dameron which makes you want to swoon for him, if only he would pledge to protect and care for you in all the ways your diminutive form might suggest you need him to.

Poe’s face inches closer and closer to yours, his lips pausing a hair’s breadth away from yours as your eyes fan shut, leaving you wanting. You swear your lips are tingling from the near-contact alone, crying out to brush with his.

“Oh oh,” he teases. “Can’t reach.”

You smile as you stand up on your tiptoes, closing the distance in an instant and crushing your lips to his, finding them soft, a hint of stubble grazing your cheek and he tips his head to the side. Upon contact, his tongue melds immediately with yours, deftly probing the cave of your mouth and melting you from within. Your hands slide up and up, coming to rest with your fingers laced around his neck, slipping into his hair.

As the kiss sparks and grows, Poe’s arms wrap firmly around your waist, and he bundles you up towards him, easily taking most of the weight of you, until your toes are entirely lifted off the floor as the kiss reaches its peak. You feel like you’re floating, in every sense.

Breathless and floored by that kiss, Poe sets you gently down, idiotic grins spreading across both of your faces as you stand there for a moment, still holding each other close. Poe looks down at you with adoration shining in his eyes, backlit with a gentle heat.

Feet back on the ground, more or less, you look self-consciously around as you both become suddenly aware of the hubbub created by the fact you both did that in the middle of the hangar.

Oops.

When your eyes look up at Poe again, he still has the softest, lovestruck smile on his pretty face.

“See you later?” he asks hopefully.

“Yeah. I hope so,” you respond, returning his smile, and you stand on your toes to plant a quick chaste kiss to his cheek, cupping his face in your hand. You could swear his skin darkens in embarrassment, and he turns from you with the most bashful and adorable expression you’ve seen on his face yet.

You’re dying, you think. You must be dying. Death by cuteness.

You ignore the commotion you’ve caused, for the most part, and you watch Finn accost Poe for gossip as he tracks across the hangar. You see Rey beelining for you too, the dumbest grin on her face, and you turn back to your work as you notice her approach, taking a much-needed moment to catch your breath.

You kissed him. Poe Dameron. Your long-time crush.

It was true, that the two of you have both spent far too long tiptoeing around this, but it seems that Poe has finally swept you off your feet. It’s safe to say that you’ve never been so glad in your life to be too short to reach a shelf. Funny then, that his kiss has you feeling ten feet tall.

What’s more, this the last day that anyone steals your stepladders. Poe sees to that. Ain’t no-one gonna mess with his precious, smol bean. At least, not if he has anything to do with it.

#poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron blurb #poe dameron imagine #short!reader #petite!reader #star wars x reader #star wars #star wars fic #oscar isaac

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specialagentsergio · 3 years

Text

all we can do is keep breathing || chapter two

summary: Spencer’s doing better, but recovery isn’t linear, and some scars run deeper than either of you knew.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: angst (eventual happy ending)

content warnings: swearing, drug abuse & addiction, substance use disorder, ptsd, descriptions of panic attacks/ptsd episodes, recollection of past bullying, unhealthy coping mechanisms, yelling/fighting, negative feelings towards other team members, body image issues

a/n: i was so taken aback by the response to chapter one--i didn’t think anyone would even read it tbh. thank you all and thanks for being patient with my lack of an upload schedule. i'm so sorry the word count is massive again. you get tummy appreciation, though, because 1) we all love spencer’s tummy, and 2) i personally gained weight when i was in residential treatment and it can be a bit of a mindfuck lol.

a/n 2: repeated disclaimer that i'm not a doctor, psychologist, psychiatrist, etc., just a direct care staff, past rtc patient and trauma recovery enthusiast. the horse therapy is pretty much entirely based on my own personal experience from nearly a decade ago, so don’t expect it to be an accurate portrayal of equine-assisted psychotherapy.

word count: 7.3k

song: you will be found from dear evan hansen

fic masterlist || masterlist

He’s been looking forward to the start of equine therapy since he got a spot in the program. But instead of being excited the morning of, Spencer ends up crying for an hour straight.

The day started off fine. It wasn’t hard to get up with the horses to look forward to, and he was able to get an extra plate at breakfast, so he could keep the pancake syrup from touching the eggs and sausage. Art therapy was a few hours later. He’d started to actually enjoy the pottery project—the recreational therapist had brought him a box of disposable gloves to use so the feeling of drying clay on his hands was no longer a problem.

Everyone’s projects were coming out of the kiln today and the next step was painting them. He’d been planning out the design and colors he wanted to use since the project started and was excited to finally start applying it.

Then he dropped his item, it broke into pieces, and he burst into tears.

He’d fled the room on instinct alone and curled up in a corner of the hallway, pressing his knees to his forehead. He was upset about the pottery, and upset that he was so affected by it breaking. He felt stupid and silly for crying over it, which only made him cry harder.

He heard distant laughter and he clapped his hands over his ears. He was being laughed at again for being a crybaby. He didn’t want to be a crybaby. He wanted to stop crying, he just couldn’t. The goalpost was cold against the bare skin of his back, and his wrists were starting to burn from the ties.

I want to go home. Just let me go home, please, I’ll do anything. Let me go, let me go--

“Spencer, it’s okay. You’re safe here. Can you repeat after me? I’m safe here.”

Safe here. Safe here.

Art therapy was over by the time he came out of it.

He has lunch at his therapist’s office instead of with the group. Lara asks what his flashback had been to.

He picks at his food. “It happened a long time ago. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright. Can you tell me how it felt instead?”

Spencer isn’t really hungry, but bites into his sandwich to stall for time. She doesn’t rush him. Eventually, he asks, “Do you know what alexithymia means?”

“No words for feelings,” she replies.

He nods. “That’s all.”

Lara opens one of her desk drawers and pulls out a composition notebook, which she then hands to him.

“What’s this for?”

“I want you to start trying to notice your feelings and sensations throughout the day. Make some kind of note, even if you don’t exactly have the words to describe it.”

He sighs. “Why?”

“Just noticing what you feel can help you develop emotional regulation,” she explains. She’s always been honest with him about the why of what she wants him to try and do. “It’s going to help you stop ignoring what’s going on inside you.”

I don’t want to do that.

“I know you don’t.”

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he blurts. “That either. I—god.” He quickly takes another bite of food before he can say more.

“It’s fine. I didn’t expect you to like it,” Lara says with a small smile. “I’m sure the thought of confronting what you’ve been suppressing and avoiding is scary. But getting better requires you to do a lot of scary things.”

Spencer wants to protest. Being strapped to a chair in a shed and dosed against your will is scary. Your mother being diagnosed with Alzheimer's is scary. Being sent to prison for a crime you didn’t commit is scary. Feeling things? That’s not scary.

Isn’t it?

He tries not to think on it too much.

Despite the unpleasant thoughts running through his mind, Spencer finds himself nodding off on the van ride to the horse ranch. His eyes unfocus, his blink rate slows… and then he jerks back awake at the sensation of his head falling forward.

A frustrated noise escapes the back of his throat. He’s sick of feeling tired all the time. He’s getting enough sleep in theory, but still finds himself drowsy at least once a day. It’s to the point that he’s regularly wearing his glasses instead of his contacts to keep his eyes from feeling quite so dry. He pushes them back up now as he tries to tune back in to his surroundings.

“… don’t get how seeing some horse is supposed to make me feel better.” That’s Aiden’s voice. He’s Spencer’s new roommate. He wasn’t happy when he found out he was getting a new one, having much preferred having the room to himself, but it’s been okay so far, mostly because they keep out of each other’s way. Aiden seems uninterested in making friends, and that suits Spencer just fine. Lara’s been encouraging him to talk to fellow patients instead of just the direct care staff, but he’s resisted it. The last time he befriended someone, they ended up--

Spencer’s fine with the two of them keeping to themselves.

Melanie, one of the staff accompanying them, is leaned over the back of the middle seat as she talks to Aiden. “Well, I couldn’t tell you why exactly, but I’ve seen this program help a lot of people in my time here,” she says. “Spencer?”

“What?”

“You’ve been reading a lot about horses, right?” At his nod, she continues, “What have you found out?”

“Equine-assisted psychotherapy lacks the rigorous scientific evidence to demonstrate if it provides benefits in mental health treatment. Horses have been used to aid in psychiatric treatment since the 1990’s, though,” he says. He intends to stop there, but can’t stop himself from continuing. “It doesn’t necessarily involve riding, but may include grooming, feeding, and ground exercises. The goal is to help the client in social, emotional, cognitive, and or behavioral ways.”

He can feel Aiden’s eyes on him and takes a breath before meeting them. He knows all too well that his infodumps aren’t always well received. He doesn’t want to be friends, but would prefer for his roommate to not view him with disdain or annoyance. But Aiden looks interested, and says as much--”that’s interesting.” He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t, and there’s silence between them for the remainder of the drive. It’s not uncomfortable, though.

When the van pulls into a parking spot and everyone starts to get out, Spencer begins to feel nervous. He’s read everything he could get his hands on, but as a relatively new therapy, there’s no standard program; it varies by facility, so he doesn’t know exactly what to expect. He’s been looking forward to this, but what if it turns out to be a bad fit for him? What if the people here don’t like him? What if the horses don’t like him?

He hangs at the back of their group of ten—six patients and two staff—as they’re led to a shaded area. They’re introduced to the program director and assistants, and are given an overview of what they’ll be doing over the next six weeks. They won’t be riding the horses, just doing groundwork (he’s not sure if he feels relieved or disappointed). Then he learns that intention of this specific program isn’t just for the horses to help the clients—the clients are to help the horses as well. The animals all have the gentle temperaments suited for therapy, but also have their own struggles. A lot of them were adopted out of poor situations.

They’re led to a circular corral next and spaced equidistantly around the edge. Spencer’s heart rate picks up as the horses are brought in—the animals will be picking their therapy partner, the director says. As they’re let off their leads a jolt of anxiety runs through his body, making him twitch slightly. This feels uncomfortably familiar to school P.E. when teams were picked. No one wanted him then. What’s gong to happen if none of the horses want him, either? He looks down at his shoes.

But just a few moments later, he hears his name, and looks up to see one of the horses approaching him. “Looks like you and Chance are our first pair,” the director is saying.

First?

Chance is almost entirely black, save for a spot of white between his eyes and above his nose. His size is a little intimidating, but his demeanor is gentle. One of the assistants comes up to Spencer and instructs him to hold out his hand so the horse can sniff it.

His hand trembles slightly as he lifts it. Warm breath hits his fingers as Chance sniffs at it. Then the horse presses his nose completely against his hand. The moistness would usually bother Spencer, but for some reason it doesn’t. Instead, a smile slowly spreads across his face. The assistant tells him he can pet Chance now. He runs his hand up and down the horse’s snout, and despite the slight coarseness of the hair, finds it soothing.

The horse shuffles closer when Spencer is given his lead to hold. A startled laugh escapes him when Chance presses his nose into his neck. He pats his head a few times, then takes a tiny step back. He’s thrilled that at least one of the horses likes him, but feels a little crowded by the large animal. To his surprise, Chance seems to understand, and takes a step back of his own.

He absently pats his horse as he watches the rest of the group pair up. He still can’t believe he was picked first.

The rest of their time with the horses is very simple. They’re taught how to lead them, and after practicing in the corral, they take the horses back to their paddocks. Spencer’s disappointed to say goodbye already, but understands the need to not overwhelm the horses or even themselves. “I’ll see you next week,” he finds himself whispering to Chance.

There’s ten minutes left in the session, and it’s spent with the director telling them more about each horses’ specific background. Chance was poorly treated by his previous owner, mostly kept locked up in a small barn and not properly cared for. He has many talents and abilities, the director says. He needs to learn that he didn’t deserve to be treated the way he was, and be told that he is brave.

Spencer rests his chin in his hand and stares out the window on the drive back to the treatment center. He knows from his reading that horses are emotionally intelligent creatures, but he’s still… well, amazed by how the horses all picked who was most similar to them out of the group instinctively.

He feels more understood by an animal he’s interacted with for twenty minutes than he has by a person for months.

Before bed that night, he chews on the stem of his pen cap, thinking over the events of his day. Slowly, in a manner that could almost be described as cautious, he picks up the empty composition book Lara gave him and opens it. His hand hovers over the blank page for a few moments, then he puts pen on paper and begins to write.

---

You made dinner reservations for his visit this Saturday. You’re getting ready for it when there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Spencer calls from the living room.

You return to fixing your hair up. You’re not expecting anyone, so it’s probably just a package or a neighbor. But just a few moments later, you hear Spencer raise his voice.

“No! No, I don’t—don’t touch me, please.”

You’re only half dressed, but hurry out to the living room anyways. When you round the corner, you immediately see what the problem is: JJ has dropped by unexpectedly.

It’s not that Spencer doesn’t want to see his team. They just bring memories with them, and he had decided shortly after his birthday that he wasn’t ready to confront that yet.

He’s standing a little ways back from the door, staring at JJ while she looks back with hurt on her face. “Spence--” she starts before she sees you.

At Spencer’s side, you place a hand on his arm and he takes a step behind you. “JJ, what are you doing here?”

She struggles to keep her eyes off of him as she answers. “(Y/N), I’m sorry, I just—Will and I made cookies with the boys today and we had a lot of extra, so I just wanted to drop some off for you. I—I didn’t know Spence was here. I didn’t mean to--”

You hold up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay, JJ. You couldn’t have known. You were just trying to do something nice.”

She nods, relieved at your understanding. “Yeah. Yeah, I….” She blows out a breath, then holds out a plastic wrapped plate of cookies to you. You take it from her with a quiet thank you. Then she looks back to the man that’s essentially hiding behind you as best as he can, despite how tall he is. “Spence, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t want me to touch you.”

There’s a tug on your clothing as he curls his fingers into the fabric on the small of your back. You tilt your head to look at him, but his gaze is on the floor. “You…” he glances up once, then looks back down. “You should ask next time,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” she replies, just as softly. “I will.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheeks to hold back a smile. Spencer often struggles to advocate for his needs, especially with his friends and colleagues, in fear of being a burden or more of a nuisance than he thinks others already perceive him as. He did it a lot with you when you first started dating. It took a lot of time and reassurance that yes, you really did want to know his wants and needs, for him to open up. Telling JJ to ask before touching him may seem small from the outside, but it’s a big deal for him.

After a rather awkward silence, JJ speaks again. “Well, um, I should get going. Just… let us know if you need anything, okay, Spence? We—the team, we’re all here for you.”

“That’s rich,” Spencer mutters behind you and you freeze. You recognize that edge to his voice. It’s usually accompanied by sharp words and remarks that he’ll regret later.

Please please please tell me JJ didn’t hear that.

“I’m sorry?”

Fuck.

“I hate to rush you out, JJ, but we have dinner reservations, so--” you try to interject but Spencer speaks over you.

“I’m just saying, why should I believe you’re here for me when you weren’t last time?”

JJ’s eyebrows come together. “I… don’t understand, I’ve always--”

“No, you haven’t!” It’s like Spencer can’t get the words out fast enough, the way he keeps interrupting before either of you can finish a sentence. This is clearly something that’s been weighing on him. You just wish he was unloading it onto his therapist rather than poor JJ, his best friend outside of you, who’s just trying to be nice. “Ten years ago I was shooting up in police station bathrooms and Emily is the only one who said a damn thing.”

His grip on your clothes tightens, forcing you to take a step back. You move the plate of cookies to one hand and reach back with the other, circling it around his wrist. “Spencer.”

Realization dawns on JJ’s face and she crosses her arms. “Spence, I couldn’t--”

“You couldn’t.” The little laugh he lets out derisive. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

You don’t know where all this is coming from or what he’s referring to, but JJ does, her expression hardening.

“You know what would have happened if the higher ups found out,” she says. “I was protecting your job. We all were.”

“You shouldn’t have!” he cries, emotions other than anger seeping into the words. “This damn job is one of the worst things that’s ever happened to me! I got anthrax poisoning, I still have issues with my knee from being shot. I nearly died from a shot in the neck, and let’s not forget, I was framed for murder by a psychopath I arrested, who then kidnapped my mother while I was in prison! Oh, and what else? Oh right, this job is the reason I’m a fucking addict in the first place!”

JJ’s clearly trying to hold back tears now, but one slips out and your heart aches for her. You close your eyes briefly and take a deep breath, then speak quietly but firmly. “Spencer, you need to leave the room.”

You can hear him breathing shakily behind you. “(Y/N)--”

“Now.” You squeeze his wrist and he finally lets go of your clothing. He takes a few steps away, stops, turns back and opens his mouth to say something, but at the look you give him, shuts it and continues on his way out.

A sniffle draws your attention back to JJ, who’s looking up at the ceiling and swiping at the tears sliding down. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I shouldn’t have come by without giving you a heads-up. I’ve just made things worse.”

“No, JJ, don’t be sorry. It--” There’s thumping noises from further back in the apartment so you step forward and shut the front door behind you. She has her arms wrapped around herself when you turn back.

“It’s not your fault,” you continue. “You were just trying to be nice. You’re a good friend to him. He’s just… everything is really raw for him right now, if that makes sense?”

She nods, wiping at her eyes again.

“It’s, uh, not an excuse, though,” you clarify. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. You didn’t do anything wrong. That was all him, so please don’t blame yourself.”

JJ is quiet for a bit, staring at the floor. Then she says, “I should get going.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” you agree quietly. Realizing you’re still holding the plate of cookies in one hand, you lift it slightly and add, “Thanks for these. And, um… I’m so sorry about that.”

She shakes her head and glances at the door. “Don’t be. Like you said, it was all him,” she murmurs.

You know she’s right, but you’re still barely able to stop yourself from apologizing again as she descends the stairs. You can’t help but feel like you should have done more, stopped him somehow, even though you don’t know how you could have. The way his behavior changed… it was like he wanted to get it all out, and when Spencer Reid wants to say something, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stop.

The apartment isn’t quiet when you walk back in. There’s the scraping and clatter of a desk drawer, followed by frantic footsteps and the thud of books falling off the shelves. You know what he’s doing, and you know he won’t find anything, so you just lock the front door and continue on to the kitchen to put the cookies away.

You lean on the counter and cover your face with your hands. It doesn’t matter if you mess up your hair or face, or anything, really, because you’re not making it to dinner anymore.

You stay like that for a while, eyes closed, trying to think of a place to even start with Spencer after all of that. When the sounds of him tearing through the apartment stop, you lift you head back up and promptly jump—he’s staring at you from the nearest doorway.

“Jesus, Spencer--”

“Where’s my stuff?” he asks, and the seriousness in his tone of voice makes your anxiety spike. You know exactly what he means by stuff.

“It’s gone. What did you think was gonna happen?”

“Yeah, but it’s…” he trails off and his expression puzzles you. It almost looks like he’s confused. “It’s all gone.”

Ah. “Yeah, well, I know you think you’re sneaky, but you’re very much the opposite when you’re not sober,” you reply. “Finding your hiding spots wasn’t hard.”

He drops his gaze to the floor, frowning. “I don’t like it when you move my things,” he says quietly.

“I don’t like it when you use,” you counter.

He visibly flinches, then his hand tightens on the door frame. “I’m not going to—to take it, I just want to hold it. Where’s my stuff?” he repeats.

“Holding it, right,” you sigh.

“It’s comforting,” he argues.

“Even if I believed that, it wouldn’t matter, Spencer. I threw it all out. There’s none here.”

The humming noise he makes is angry, and he rocks back and forth on his feet in an agitated manner. “You shouldn’t… I don’t….”

I don’t have the energy for this. It’s a thought you feel terrible about as soon as you have it, but it’s the truth. Lara had cautioned you before his first visit that he was going to be hypersensitive to disappointment and frustration until he learned how to cope with the feelings he’d been using the Dilaudid to block out. Unfortunately, the information, while useful, didn’t always make his emotional extremes easier to deal with.

You run a hand down your face. “Spencer…” you start. You’re not sure what to continue with, but you don’t have to—for whatever reason, that sets him off.

He tears his eyes away from the floor to glare at you. “Don’t—don’t touch my things ever again!” Then he turns and all but runs to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

You suck in a breath and drop your head to the counter. The marble is cool and you thump your forehead against it gently a few times, focusing on breathing in and out slowly to calm down. When you’re ready, you walk as quietly as you can to the bedroom door and press your ear against it to hear the unmistakable sound of Spencer sobbing into his pillow.

Part of you wants to go in and comfort him, but you suspect that you’d just make it worse right now since some of his frustration is directed at you. And truth be told, you’re frustrated with him, too. So you retreat to the living room, flopping down on the couch and pulling out your phone to call the restaurant to cancel your reservations. Doing so is more upsetting than you expected; a few tears of your own slide down your face after you hang up. Before you know it, you’re calling Tara.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asks you.

“I…” You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Spencer’s… we’re having a bad day. If you’re not busy, can I talk to you about it?”

“Of course,” is her gentle reply, and you pull yourself to your feet, moving to the farthest point away from the bedroom in the apartment so Spencer won’t overhear.

“He got angry when you told him you got rid of everything?” she guesses when you reach that part.

“Yeah. He told me that he doesn’t like it when I move his things. I already knew that; that’s why everything else is where he left it. I think he was mostly just caught off guard that I knew all his hiding places.”

“If he’s having a trauma response to seeing JJ, he’s not going to be thinking clearly, either,” Tara points out. “I wasn’t there, so I could be wrong, but from what you’ve said, it sounds like she was some sort of trigger for him.”

“That’s more than a fair assessment. It’s just… confusing,” you say. “He wasn’t like this with her when he first got home from prison. He actually spent a lot of time at JJ’s house before his relapse. He’d go over and hold Michael when he couldn’t sleep. Why is seeing his best friend suddenly such a bad thing?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t have to make sense to us. It only has to make sense to the traumatized part of the brain,” she explains. “He may not even know why himself.”

“Hmm.” You ponder it for a moment. “I think I’d find that interesting if I wasn’t living it.”

Tara laughs out loud at that. “Yeah, I’ve found that to be rather commonplace sentiment in the field of psychology.”

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling calmer. “Thanks for listening,” you say. “I feel better now.”

“Anytime, (Y/N).”

You exchange goodbyes, making plans to catch up properly over lunch next week. You hang up, then tiptoe back to the bedroom door. It’s quiet now; Spencer seems to have stopped crying. You knock softly. “Honey? Can I come in?”

When he doesn’t respond, you try the door handle. It’s unlocked, which is a good sign—he’s upset, but not upset enough to completely shut you out. You open the door just enough to look in.

Spencer’s on the bed as expected, huddled under his weighted blanket. His back is to the door and you see his shoulders shuddering in the little breaths that follow him crying. In your experience, he usually seeks out comfort before this stage, often having the breakdown itself in your arms or stumbling into them halfway through. This is a bit of uncharted territory. You know that after outbursts of negative emotions, he tends to need reassurance and touch from someone to help him decompress and feel better. You just don’t know if that’s going to hold true for this kind of reaction. A trauma response, Tara called it. You hope it will, because you don’t know what else to do.

“I’m going to come in now,” you tell him before taking a step inside. You leave the door open behind you so he won’t feel trapped, then slowly approach him, looking out for signs that he doesn’t want you near—tensing muscles, slight rocking, shaking his head—but he stays still.

Once you sit down on the edge of the bed you can see his face. His eyes are puffy and his cheeks are red and raw from wiping away tears. A few are still slipping out, sliding sideways down his face and dropping onto the wet patch on his pillowcase as he stares blankly at the wall across the room.

Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his arm as lightly as you can. He takes in a deep breath, but does nothing to suggest that he wants you to remove it. After a few moments to ensure that he’s okay with touch, you start running your hand up and down his back. He whimpers a little in response, closing his eyes and titling back into your touch.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

You don’t get a straightforward answer. He chews on his bottom lip for a bit before speaking in a scratchy voice. “Can you…?” he mumbles, lifting his head up slightly from the pillow, then dropping it back down. You don’t know what he’s asking for until you see some of his fingers poking out from under the blanket and the stroking motion they’re making.

You maneuver across the mattress to sit against the headboard, jostling him as little as you can, and he shifts to place his head in your lap. When you start carding your fingers through his hair, his eyes flutter closed and he lets out a little sigh.

“What’s going on?” you ask once the tension has faded and his body has settled fully into the mattress. He just shrugs and you press your lips together to hold back a sigh. You’re familiar with him going nonverbal and you know that he can’t help it, but it’s discouraging. One of the main things he’s been working on is being more open about his emotions. It’s been a welcome change to not have to pry things out of him. But he seems to have gone right back to old habits tonight and it’s… well, it’s disappointing.

The silence carries on for a long time as you continue to run your hands through his hair. He’s so still and relaxed that you think he may have fallen asleep until he takes in a deep, shuddering breath and clears his throat. “I… I want to go back,” he whispers.

“Back whe--” you start, then your heart drops as you realize what he means. “Oh.”

Your hands fall to your lap as he sits up and clambers out of bed, muttering, “gonna get changed.” He shuts the bathroom door behind him—for whatever reason, he’s not always comfortable with you seeing him changing or in the shower anymore—and you sit still for a few moments, processing what he just said. After over a month of listening to him express his desire to come home—begging you, even, in the beginning—you were unprepared to hear the opposite.

You shake your head slightly to try and clear it, then follow his lead, leaving the bed and changing out of your fancy clothes, trying not to think about how much you had been looking forward to wearing them to the restaurant.

Spencer remains quiet for the drive back to his treatment center, staring out the passenger side window, legs pulled into his chest. He mumbles a quick “bye” to you when you check him back in—no hug or kiss on the cheek like you’ve grown accustomed to. Instead he turns right back to the nurse and staff member running the process and asks, “Is Matt working tonight? I need to talk to him.”

At least he wants to talk to someone, you tell yourself as you leave, trying to soothe the sting caused by the fact that the someone isn’t you.

---

The next time you see him is six days later, on Friday evening. You’ve only talked once since Saturday, over the phone on Wednesday night, and it wasn’t a long call. He was upset about the horse therapy appointment being canceled that afternoon because of the weather—it had rained hard all day—and didn’t say much else. He ended the call before the ten minute mark, saying that he was tired and wanted to go lie down.

He also didn’t request a visit for the weekend—he either didn’t think his treatment team would approve it or he just didn’t want one. So you’re visiting him at the center today. You’ve brought dinner with you—you cooked one of his favorites yourself—but before you eat, you’re having an appointment with him and his therapist.

Spencer glances up only briefly when you enter the office, quickly looking back down. One of his knees is bouncing.

You sit down on the other side of the couch, looking between him and Lara in the chair across from you. “So, um, what’s going on?” you ask.

Spencer looks to Lara and she gives him an encouraging nod. He takes in a deep breath before speaking. “I… I wanted to talk to you about what ha—happened last week,” he says quietly, keeping his gaze on his lap.

You don’t know why exactly he wants to do it here, with his therapist, but wanting to talk about it at all is a good sign.. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“Right, um. Seeing… seeing JJ, it--” he stops abruptly, and his hands tremble slightly as he runs them down his thighs. “Sorry, doing… doing this is making me really anxious.”

“Take your time,” Lara says and you nod in agreement.

“Okay.” He runs his hands through his hair a few times before continuing. “Se—seeing her brought up emotions and, and memories I wasn’t ready to, um, confront. It… it really tri—triggered me.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” you say quietly.

Spencer grimaces at the words. He lifts his hand, puts it back down, then lifts it again and rubs at one of his eyes. “I…” he starts, then fixes his gaze on the floor and goes silent.

“(Y/N).” You tear your eyes from him and look at Lara. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Spencer about Saturday? Maybe what it was like for you?”

“Oh. Um.” You chew on your bottom lip for a moment. You’ve worried about how what you say could effect him since his relapse—one of your biggest fears is saying something that would drive him to use. But it’s stressful to keep up with, and with his therapist is probably the best place to start ridding yourself of your new habit of… well, of walking on eggshells around him.

“I think it would be good for him to know,” Lara says.

“Alright.” You lace your fingers together in your lap. “I guess it was just… startling to me. JJ’s your best friend and you’ve never acted that way to her. Or anyone, really, other than your father.”

Spencer stays silent, but flinches at the mention of his dad.

“Do you have anything to say to that?” Lara prompts. He shakes his head, so she looks back to you. “How did seeing Spencer like that make you feel?”

You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly; you’re a little scared to say, not wanting to make him feel worse. “It was… distressing. Especially when he got mad at me for getting rid of his Dilaudid. I know he doesn’t like having his things touched without permission but I don’t think it was reasonable to expect that I wouldn’t have done that.”

Lara nods. “That makes sense. But our feelings aren’t always logical.”

“Yeah, I understand. I guess I just wish he would have told me what was wrong instead of being silent--”

Spencer finally speaks up then, in protest. “I couldn’t help it!”

“I—I know that,” you argue back. “I just—I’m just telling you how I felt.”

He looks away, folding his arms and sinking further into the couch.

“Spencer,” Lara says gently. “You wanted to know how (Y/N) felt, remember? And we talked about how you were probably going to hear things you wouldn’t like.”

You blink, taken aback that this was his idea. And with that comes the realization of just how long it’s been since he’s asked how you’re feeling. Thinking back, you realize that the last time you had a conversation that wasn’t only focused on his feelings and well-being was the day you found him asleep and tied to his mother. This… it’s Spencer before prison.

You’re drawn out of your thoughts by him sighing and muttering, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Alright. Anything else?” Lara asks you.

There’s a lot else, you’re discovering, but you’re not sure you can unpack it all right now. “Maybe…” you say. “Maybe he could just tell me what I can do to help when he’s… triggered?”

“I don’t know,” he says dully, and when he catches the small frown on your face, insists, “I don’t.”

“Yet,” Lara adds.

He sighs again. “Yet,” he repeats.

“I know it’s frustrating,” she says. “Your solution to these kinds of feelings before was denial or using. A solution, not just a problem,” she emphasizes. “I want you both to try and think of it like that, and get comfortable with the fact that it’s going to take awhile to overcome those habits.”

A solution, not a problem. It’s… weird to think of his addiction that way, but you can try, so you give her a nod.

“Yeah, yeah,” Spencer mumbles. But behind the defensive body language, he just seems tired.

He seems to relax a little when the meeting wraps up and it’s only the two of you in one of the rooms used for visits. He remains quiet, but when you place the plate of food you dish him across the table from yours, he slides it back and sits in the chair beside you. “Sorry,” he whispers as soon as you take a bite of food.

“For what?” you ask once you’ve swallowed.

“For yelling at you on Saturday,” he says quietly. “I was upset but I shouldn’t have yelled.”

His leg is bouncing under the table; you put your hand on his knee to still it. “Apology accepted,” you say softly.

He shakes his head slightly. “You don’t have to. I was awful to you on Saturday.”

You frown at his skewed interpretation of events. “Spencer, you really weren’t. You yelled at me, yes, but other than that, you were fine.” And you’ve said much worse when you’ve been high.

“I ruined dinner. And don’t say it’s not a big deal,” he adds before you can speak. “You mentioned it every time we spoke in the week leading up to it. You were really excited about it, and I ruined it.”

Spencer’s read you like a book—that was exactly what you were going to say. “Yeah, I was really looking forward to it,” you admit. “And it sucked to have to cancel the reservations. But there will be other dinners, and it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“But what if I did?” His voice is so quiet that you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t right next to you.

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean…” he rocks slightly in his seat, which you immediately recognize as one of his self-soothing behaviors. You move your hand from his knee to his hair, lightly running your fingers through the curls covering the nape of his neck to try and help. His head tilts forward a little at your touch and after a brief silence, he continues. “I just mean that self-sabotage wouldn’t exactly be something new for me.”

“Oh.” You take your time considering it; he won’t believe you if you give in to your knee-jerk reaction to protest the negative feelings he harbors towards himself. But he grows agitated at your silence, rocking a bit harder and rubbing at his eye. You tug his hair lightly without really thinking about it in response.

“I’m just thinking,” you assure. “You deserve an honest, thought-out answer.”

After taking a deep breath, he nods. “Okay. I understand. Maybe you could just, uh… to help c--comfort…” He swallows and his voice drops back to a whisper. “Could you do that again?”

“Do what?”

“Um, pull… pull my hair. You did that a few moments ago. Please?”

You almost want to tease him—a year ago, you would have. But he’s been so timid and unsure when asking for any intimate touch other than cuddling since he got back from prison. You don’t want to discourage him from asking any more than he seems to be discouraging himself.

“Of course, baby,” you answer softly, and do just that. He closes his eyes and drops his head onto your shoulder. “As far as the self-sabotaging goes, you’re… not good at lying to me,” you muse. “And after six years with you, I feel like I’m pretty familiar with all the ways Spencer Reid self-sabotages. This never even crossed my mind until you brought it up, so I don’t see that as being what happened.”

You can’t tell if he believes you. A neutral “okay” is all you get from him, but at least he’s not outright disagreeing.

You gently pull his hair a few more times. “You should eat before it gets cold and we have to heat it up again.”

He takes the suggestion, picking his fork up, but you’ve never seen him less enthused about eating one of his favorite foods. He’s only cleared half of his plate when you’re done with all of yours.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

You can’t help but sigh at the habitual response, and consider your next words carefully. “Spencer, I don’t mean to be pushy, but you told me you were working on not dismissing people’s concern for you when they express it.”

“I am,” he mutters, but doesn’t say anything else, just continues to push his food around his plate aimlessly.

“Well, is something wrong with the food?” you ask. “Did I get the texture wrong, or--”

“No, no,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “It’s not the food. The food’s great. It’s… it’s me that’s the problem.”

Your eyebrows come together. “I don’t understand.”

“I…” He starts to blush. “I’m not eating it all because I think I need to lose some weight.”

“Don’t you dare,” you say immediately without thinking. He makes a startled noise at the same time you clap your hand over your mouth. You definitely don’t want him to lose weight, you just hadn’t meant for it to come out like that.

On the day he came home and agreed to treatment, you’d seen just how underweight he’d become as you helped him unbutton his shirt. The stark outline of his ribs against his skin had been scary, and you had no desire to see that again. It was a relief when he started to gain back what he’d lost in prison and afterwards. And you were happy to see him continue to put on even more than that.

You clear your throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that. You were just so skinny when you got here. You look good like this.”

“I’ve never weighed this much before,” he says, and the distress in his tone makes you think that this is a fact that has been bothering him for a while. “Some of my clothes are getting too tight.”

“We can buy you new clothes.”

“But we don’t know how much longer the insurance will cover my stay here. Residential treatment is expensive. We don’t need to be spending extra money on clothes when I could just lose the weight instead and not need them.”

“Hey.” You put your hand on his cheek. “I don’t want you to worry about money. The insurance is covering it for now. If they stop, that’s a problem to deal with when we get there. Just focus on getting better.”

He looks away from you, down to his lap. “I should still lose some weight,” he says eventually.

“Have you medical staff told you that?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” he admits with a sigh.

“Then you’re not allowed to worry about it,” you say firmly. “Finish your dinner.”

Spencer hesitates, but picks his fork back up. The corners of his mouth turn up just slightly when he starts eating again, telling you that despite his fretting, he’s happy not to stop himself from eating as much as he wants.

He seems to be in a much better mood at the end of the evening than he was when you arrived, though a bit more subdued and quieter than normal. He also appears to be very tired. It’s only 7:30 but he keeps yawning. He denies dozing off with his head on your shoulder while you were talking after dinner, but you’re sure he did.

During your parting hug, he nestles his face into your neck just like he always does when you’re sleeping in bed together. “Try and get some good sleep tonight,” you encourage, smoothing your hands down his back. “And Spencer?”

He pulls back to look at you and you settle your hands lightly on his waist. “I meant it, you know.” You squeeze slightly. “When I said you look good like this.”

It takes him a few moments to catch onto what you’re implying; when he does, his eyebrows shoot up and his breath catches. “Oh. O—okay. I’ll, um…” he glances down shyly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better.” You look over your shoulder as you leave, and the small smile he’s wearing prompts one of your own.

---------------

tell me what you thought here!

i'd like to put it out there that i don’t hate jj and i really hope it didn’t come across like that. i hadn’t even planned that scene; it just wrote itself. i promise it’ll be resolved before the end of this fic.

another shoutout to the book The Body Keeps the Score for helping immensely with the planning and writing of this. i literally have pages of notes from it.

you can also find irl pictures of spencer’s therapy horse here.

all we can do taglist: @thatsonezesty13 , @jhillio , @elitereid

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #angst #my fic #tw substances #one day i'll write something that's short

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