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vauxxy · 4 months

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SECOND THAT

luke castellan x reader

★ “i’m restless, i’m wrestling with the song that you love, it’s been stuck in my head”

ABOUT - luke castellan is the only one at camp who sees right through your perfect and poised persona; and all he wants is the satisfaction of ruining it.

WARNINGS - smut, mentions of choking, both the reader and luke are TERRIBLE but luke is much worse lol, swearing, written from the perspective of a deranged luke, penetration, only loosely proofread.

A/N- i have NEVER written and posted smut before EVER. like i get close but i never go all out. so… no hate guys 😘 also i feel like this is a bit ooc for luke so just pretend he’s actually insane and terrible guys!!! if you ignore his incoherent ramblings, it’s PWOP sooo… anyways this might be the first and last time i ever write smut who knows

luke castellan is no amateur when it comes to pretending to be something else. growing up, the only thing that mattered to luke was receiving praise or recognition for being ‘great’ or ‘honourable’ or whatever.

when you live your whole life pretending to be a perfect person, you kinda start to believe you really are a perfect person.

and if everyone you meet also believes you are indeed a perfect person, what’s the harm in continuing to pretend?

at the end of the day, both parties gain something. you get the validation and acclaim that you truly deserve, and they get a role model they aspire to at least halfway resemble.

luke is the sweetest guy at camp- everyone loves him. and he deserves it, doesn’t he? he deserves their praise and love and respect. gods, he should be rewarded for pretending to be so admirable for so long. he’s entitled to it.

you, on the other hand? you don’t. you don’t deserve an ounce of the praise luke has worked so hard to receive.

to luke, you’re vermin. behind your polite smiles and sweet words, there’s darkness. there’s an evil lurking within you- he’s sure of it.

he sees it during early morning sparring sessions, watching from the wings while you tactfully dodge every attack that comes your way. and when you eventually falter, he sees how your eyes turn cold and your smile fades.

he sees how you take a shaky breath, brushing yourself off with your bony hands before flashing a toothy grin. he feels nauseous when you extend your arm out to shake the hand of your opponent- because how the fuck can they believe your little act?

your gentle kindness and bashful charisma is so obviously fake. of course, he’s not pissed that you’re acting; everyone at camp is acting to an extent. but you’re going all out, and he can still see through it. what pisses him off, is that nobody else seems to recognise how truly malicious you can be.

maybe it’s because you’re pretty. luke is no stranger to getting special treatment based on his appearance, and neither should you be. maybe that’s the whole basis of your appeal. it seems to be the only thing holding your pathetic little facade together, considering your sloppy acting skills.

if you were ugly everyone would be able to call out your bullshit straight away, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about sharing the spotlight. honestly, the only reason why everyone loves you so much is because half of them want to fuck you, and the other half want your attention or approval- not that it’d be worth anything.

it was the last week of spring, meaning only the year-rounders and a few of the older kids were at camp. you just graduated high school, and arrived at camp early.

of course, you just had to return to camp prettier, taller, more confident, and with a fancy college acceptance letter. maybe you were much smarter than you let on- but it became very apparent that your intelligence wasn’t the reason you got accepted into NYU once he learned what you were studying.

“oh, i’m getting a degree in art history,”

seriously? art history? that’s gotta be the funniest thing luke has ever heard in his entire life.

“really? why art history?” he asks politely, watching your every move as he awaits your dumbass explanation.

you shrug cheerfully, looking around at the few other campers scattered around in a tight-knit circle as they wait for you to tell them about your ‘lovely’ 18th birthday and ‘eventful’ senior year.

“i don’t know, my mum works with a lot of artists, so she said it’d be a good conversation starter,” you say cheerfully, as if it wasn’t the stupidest thing to ever exit your mouth.

luke can’t help but let out a little giggle, before instantly lowering his head to offer some non-verbal apology. but to his surprise, you laugh along. “yeah, i really wanna score a job at the MET or something. i don’t mind either way,”

luke nods politely, letting the conversation continue without interrupting with a snide comment or unsolicited laughter.

he plays along as the conversation continues, pretending he doesn’t want to grab you by the throat and push you against the wall, demanding you to confess. demanding you to tell the fucking truth; that you’re a manipulative sycophant who’s bound to end up in rehab for getting addicted to designer drugs.

why is he the only one that sees you for who you truly are? gods, if he knew any better he might be charmed. you were naturally picturesque- or at least you seemed to be. the way that you were sitting on the grass with your hair draping over your body; you looked gorgeous. but you always look gorgeous, that’s your best quality after all.

of course all of camp half-blood was fooled- you were to pretty and kind to be lying. maybe it was better to let them keep on believing that you were this perfect image of a girl.

but he’d still appreciate the satisfaction of seeing you for who you are- seeing you in your rawest form.

and then suddenly, he saw it. some athena girl asked you if you wanted to go on a run with her later, to which you politely declined. of course, you kept your composure, told her that you had to take a nap, offered her a sympathetic smile and a ‘maybe next time’. but she didn’t see the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as soon as she looked away.

luke was astonished. you really were getting sloppy, huh?

and yet, nobody else saw it. nobody else saw the look of disgust on your face as soon as she finished talking. he was seething- how on earth could everyone be so blind?

luke looks around at the group of people surrounding him, his eyes darting back to you ever 5 or 10 seconds. they all look at you with awe- as if you’re the most precious thing on earth.

fuck that. he was going to put you in your place.

a few hours pass, and it was finally time for everyone to walk back to their cabins.

luke spots you walking alone to your cabin, your face dimly lit by the moon as it shines over the camp. he’s so overwhelmed with anger, he couldn’t fathom caring about the consequences of whatever situation he was about to put himself in.

he quickly catches up to you, meeting your walking pace as he shoots you a friendly smile.

“hey, y/n. you got a minute?” luke asks, still adorning that charming smile. you smile back at him, nodding your head ever so gently, as if it would fall off if you moved it too fast. like a rusty elvis bobble head bought 1976 that resides on the dash of your grandmother’s busted car.

“yeah, why?” you hold your hands behind your back as you walk beside him, slowly approaching your empty cabin. luke shrugs his shoulders. “oh, i just had a little question. mind if we talk in your cabin?” he asks.

you nod, opening the door for luke and letting him walk through. you close the door behind him, before leaning your back against the wall. luke stands in front of you, his cheery demeanour vanishing as he crosses his arms.

“why the fuck are you such a little bitch all the time?”

you furrow your brows, mirroring his posture as you cross your arms defensively. “excuse me?”

luke rolls his eyes, letting out dry laughter as he looks you up and down. “you heard me,” he adds, watching you anxiously begin to pick at your lips with your freshly manicured fingernails.

“do you have a problem with me or something?” your whole body feels tense as you continue picking at your lips, your eyes locked onto his.

“yeah, i do have a problem. i’m tired of your little ‘nice girl’ act. it’s getting fucking annoying,” luke scoffed, taking a step closer towards you. your eyes darken, before shaking away your hostile expression.

“are you sure you wanna do this right now, castellan?”

“is that a threat?”

you pull your fingertips away from your lips, shifting your weight to the other side of your body as you cross your arms once more. you let silence fill the room before finally speaking up.

“listen, luke. everyone pretends to be someone they’re not. you and i just tend to do it more than others-“

luke cuts your off, taking another step forwards. “fuck off, we are not the same.”

you roll your eyes, banging your head against the wall as you groan irritably. “so what? are you gonna go around spreading cheap lies about me now?” you ask tiredly. luke shakes his head, slightly shrugging his shoulders.

“nah.” he replies curtly, his voice blunt and expression vague. “mkay, then what the fuck is your problem?”

luke takes another quick step forward, tightly holding your chin in his hand as he lifts your head to face him. “you’re my fucking problem.”

you let out a dry laugh, staring into his eyes as you attempt to intimidate him. “you’re such a loser.” you whisper, refusing to fight back against the way he’s gripping your face.

he stays silent, biting his lip as he looks over your form. “and you’re a brat.” he retorts.

“are we just going to keep throwing insults back and forth all night, or are you gonna explain why you’re so obsessed with me?” you ask playfully, cupping his face in your hand as an attempt to patronise him.

luke is stumped. to be fair, he is entirely obsessed with you. and he has been for years now. and now he has you cornered, watching your weak attempts at asserting dominance over him.

luke was over it.

suddenly, luke leans in, harshly pressing his lips against yours. you retract your hand from his face, pressing it against the wall as you feel his body moving towards you.

he wraps his other hand around your neck, only gently gripping it as to not alarm you.

luke is surprised by how you sink into his grip, pulling away to see your closed eyes and swollen lips. when you wipe your mouth and look at him with those hauntingly innocent eyes, he’s almost fooled.

you scoff, smirking as you tear away from his grip and take a few steps back. “is that all you wanted?” you say confidently, watching him turn around to watch you carefully pace around the room.

he shakes his head, groaning quietly as he walks over to you once more.

luke purses his lips, trying to suppress any sense of genuine attraction to you. but when his eyes gaze over to your red lips and flushed cheeks, he can’t help but let his mind wander.

“if you’re done, you can leave, castellan.” you say irritably, leaning against your bed frame.

it goes straight to his dick when you call him that, especially when your voice sounds so hoarse and cocky. he feels as though he’s finally accomplished what he’s been yearning to do for years now. he’s seeing the real you.

he couldn’t dare squander this opportunity now.

he pushes you down onto your bed, watching how your hair flows over your newly made bedsheets as your head hits the pillow.

“but you don’t want me to leave, do you?” luke says lowly, hovering over your body as his hand hold your wrists together above your head.

“i don’t care what you do, castellan.”

luke groans, pressing another rough kiss against your lips. you kiss back for whatever reason, and your firsts relax within his grip. it was almost as if you got off on the idea of someone calling out your bullshit. or maybe you got off on the idea of somewhat hating your guts. either way, luke knew you were more than eager to continue.

he let go of your wrists, before biting your bottom lip. your mouth opens slightly, offering entry to his tongue, deepening the kiss.

you hand cups his face, while the other grips his shoulder. after a few moments, he pulls away and begins sucking at the skin of your neck, leaving purple marks on your delicate skin while you let out hoarse whimpers.

his hands begin to fiddle with the fabric of your shirt, causing you to push his body forwards as you position yourself to sit on his lap. you take off your shirt, throwing it away as you run your hands down his back.

luke looks down at your chest, growing more aroused at the sight of your lacy little bra. it’s as if you knew someone was going to see it.

you feel a hardness growing from under his jeans, poking against your upper thigh as you slowly grind against his lap. luke let’s put a low moan, continuing to bury his face in your neck.

“i fucking hate you,” he growls, gripping the sides of your waist with his hands as you move against him.

“don’t care, take off your shirt,” you demand hurriedly, running your fingers through his hair as you tilt his head up to look at you.

luke rolls his eyes, before taking off his shirt. he quickly presses another series of harsh kissses against your neck, fiddling with the clasp of your bra as you push your chest up against his. you giggle softly at his incompetence, before he finally unhooks it and ravenously pulls it from your chest.

luke pushes your body backwards onto the bed, trailing kisses down from your neck and onto your tits. you let out a quiet moan, before biting down onto your hand in order to stifle the sound. his large hands knead your left breast, while the other grips the area just under your right breast, resting on top of your ribcage.

luke’s hands slowly move downwards, hip thumb tracing circles against the side of your hip as you gently grasp onto his hair. his fingertips gently pull down your shorts, leaving you in only your underwear.

he rubs his thumb over the wet fabric, before tilting his head to look up at you. “pathetic,” he mutters, smirking at your flushed faced. you groan, burying the back of your head further into the pillow as your back arches involuntarily.

luke’s thumb massages your clit from over the soaking fabric, watching you squirm in response. he lets out a dry laugh, before pulling down your panties and tossing them onto the floor.

“luke…” you moan quietly, closing your eyes as your hips jerk into the mattress. his fingers trace your wet folds, before letting his thumb rub circles against your clit and forcing two fingers inside of you.

you whimper before pursing your lips, rolling your head around as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out. he quickens his pace, pressing down harshly against your clit while beginning to suck on the skin of your upper thigh.

luke holds down your hip with his free hand as you begin to squirm.

suddenly, he stops.

you look at him with a confused expression, your face red as he pulls his fingers out. he chuckles at your disappointed face, before taking off his pants and boxers. you stare at his length unashamedly, biting down on your bottom lip.

“so fucking needy.” he says lowly, his voice horse as he softly begins to continue massaging your clit. you moan, feeling your back arch as he positions himself in front of your legs. he forcefully spreads them open as he teases your folds with the tip of his erect member.

you let out a little whine, your voice trembling as you try to move your hips against his length.

luke rolls his eyes at your poor attempts at penetration, before slowly pushing his cock into your entrance. you let out a breathy, high pitched moan, your hands eagerly gripping your bedsheets.

he gradually pushes in the entirety his length, continuing to rub circles into your clit. luke tightly grips your waist as he begins to slowly pull out, before jamming himself back in. you let out a breathy yelp as you body moves with his thrusts.

like continues relentlessly pushing in and out of you, massaging your waist as his thumb gradually increases the speed of its attack on your clit.

you try to steady you breathing, your face flushed as lukewarm continues to deliberately overwhelm your body.

“mm… luke, i’m gonna…” you mutter, your hips jerking upwards. he smiles at you, amused by how blissed out you look taking his cock. “so soon?” he teases, rapidly moving against your body.

you let out a stammering series of whimpers as your back arches upwards, feeing yourself suddenly release. luke grins, continuing to rub circles into your clit as he rides out your orgasm.

luke slowly retracts his thumb, repositioning the hand to gently grip your hip. he begins to slow down his movements, before quickly thrusting into you repetitively. you squirm, the movements of your hips constrained by his grip.

suddenly, he pulls out, releasing onto your stomach. see? he was a gentleman.

luke gazes over at the girl he just reduced to a panting mess as he stands up and puts his clothes back on. he smiles at you as he zips up his jeans, before kneeling besides you as you turn your head to look at him.

“i wont tell anyone how fucking pathetic you are, don’t worry, princess.”

you nod, staring at him as he continues to look at your defenceless body. “such a pretty girl,” he hums, cupping your face in his hand before kissing your forehead.

he reaches over to your discarded underwear and gently pulls them up your legs, the gesture acting somewhat as a peace offering. he takes a step back, simply taking in how endearingly stupid you look.

you slowly sit yourself up, grabbing your camp t shirt and putting it on. “goodnight, luke,” you choke out, your voice hoarse and breathing shallow. he nods, smiling softly as he turns to walk away. “night, princess.”

#luke castellan enemies to lovers #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fic #luke castellan smut #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader smut #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #pjo x reader #pjo tv show

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feninina · 8 months

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𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐭𝐞 ༉‧₊˚.⁀➷

therapist! jonathan crane x female reader.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: when your father decided that you needed therapy, taking you to his dear friend dr. crane to treat and help you, you thought it wouldn't work at all, but it turned out to be everything you needed.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: SMUT(minors dni!!), noncon/dubcon, depression, cursing, crane is a mysoginistic prick, using therapy for unhinged reasons, smut, hair pulling, jonathan just being an creep, choking AND strangulation, dacryphilia, hitting, unprotected sex (safe sex its great sex!!), breeding kink, forced breeding, power dynamics, i think crane should be a warning himself, reader being borderline stupid and naive. also this has a lot of backstory i’m so sorry i got carried away lol.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 7.1K

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: omg my first fic on here!! this is also my first work on english and my first smut ever so i apologise in advance for any mistake!! i hope y'all enjoy it anyways ahahahaha live laugh love jonathan crane👏🏻 feedback its very appreciated so i can improve and continue to publish better works, anyways enjoyyyy 💓

𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁

It was awkward, to say the least.

You were sitting across from Doctor Crane in the couch at your dad's house, legs crossed as you watched him write on his clipboard, something about it making you feel anxious, a little nauseous, even.

This wasn't your first session, you started doing this four months ago, not long after your divorce that caused you to fall into a spiral of sadness and misery. Your failed— and short marriage was the main reason you started taking therapy with your dad's friend, the chief of Arkham, Jonathan Crane, and still, you couldn't bring yourself to talk about it.

He was patient, you told him several times that he was a saint. Regardless, before you started with the sessions, he explained to your dad that he didn't really do this; therapy really wasn't his strong suit, but for a friend, a desperate one, he would gladly do it.

Your dad came to him, offering a big stack of money if he would talk to his little girl, make her recover her once joyful personality, like you had one to begin with. Jonathan really couldn't say no, and not really because of the money, he had other reasons in mind, unethical reasons.

And there you were now. You were quick to open up to him, eager to talk, to be listened and he, on the other hand, was ready to listen, to give you advice, console you and help you get through the sorrow that was following you since you were young, playing the role of your knight in shinning armor.

"I can't believe you don't actually do this" you said once, sniffling your nose with a handkerchief he gave you as he examined you with a warm gaze, an empathetic grin on his face. "You're really helping me"

Jonathan was quick to wave his hand and tell you that it wasn't a big deal, that he was just doing his job, and if you weren't so innocent, so stupid, you would have noticed the mischievous sparkle that flickered in his eyes for a split second.

You were landing right in the palm of his hand.

Not even thirty minutes into the first session you told him everything about your past; every little thing you thought he needed to know to treat you. And you were slightly right; he did need to know those things, but not to treat you, just to manipulate you and mold your little brain into what he was envisioning for you and your future together.

Truth was, you hated everything about your life, regardless of the fact that you had everything. That's what you've been told since you were a child; a big house, a lot of money, maids taking care of you so you wouldn't have to move a finger and just sit pretty and relax inside the walls of the huge mansion that confined you since you could recall.

You have everything. That was bullshit.

Sometimes, you couldn't help but think that people told you that out of pity, like they knew how miserable you felt, but not daring to say a word about it. Your dad was a powerful man, and you were aware of that, ever since you were born, he had bussines with Falcone and you knew that people feared him, he practically ruled Gotham, that lifeless and dangerous city that you had to live in.

You have everything. You were tired of that sentence. You didn't care at all about these nice things surrounding you, those dresses in your closet, those diamonds in your jeweler, that fancy car you owned since your eighteenth birthday, no, that was useless in your eyes, because all you really wanted, was love.

It was a lonely life; you learned how to do everything by yourself, how to comb your hair, how to deal with your period when it first came, how to dress up properly and do your makeup. You didn't even had to learn about boy problems because there weren't any boys in your life, you were homeschooled. So you were quiet, not really having to talk at all, there was nobody to talk to.

And since Jonathan was the only person you were talking to at the moment, you started to feel like you loved him, the idea sitting right with you without you even knowing it, thinking that this was how therapy normally went.

Loneliness striked your life at a young age; your mother died from a strange disease when you were eight, leaving you with a shattered heart thad bled everytime you walked past her bedroom, or saw a picture of her. You practically watched her die, a witness of how she lost her strength, how her once beautiful skin turned pale and yellow, and lost every little spark within herself, and the worst part was that all the money you had, couldn't even help her.

It was a deep wound that you carried with yourself, with nobody to talk about it.

Your father spent his days locked up in his office, and when he wasn't there, he was out in the city doing unthinkable things that you didn't even wanted to know about, leaving you on your own, having to fill all of those silent and empty rooms by yourself, with nobody to laugh with, nobody to hold you and see you grow. He wasn't really around, working all the time, too busy to know that his daughter didn't seem to care about all the expensive stuff he bought for her, not even taking the time to have dinner with you or hold a simple conversation. He loved you, you knew that, he just wasn't the type to show his affection with words or actions, but with gifts. And you hated everything about it.

But now, Jonathan was there, making you feel listened, finally saving you from falling into loneliness again. Your whole life, you thought you had a horrible sickness, that you were doomed to this awful destiny of sorrow and silence, but now, with his sweet words and good company, you couldn't be more than relieved.

You wished sometimes that you met him earlier, that this whole therapy stuff started before, and you even confessed it to him. And it irked him a little, that you didn't even remember how you two really met each other, hiding his annoyance with a warm smile.

Some months ago, your father started to brought you to parties he attended, parties were all the corrupts scumbags from Gotham reunited and celebrated how they were dragging the city to the gates of hell on their benefit, and you couldn't be more happy to attend them. You knew he was bringing you because he recently broke up with the young girl he carried with him— that was most likely your age, and needed a pretty thing to hang of his arm and take care of the people he didn't feel like talking to.

So you accepted this new life, eating up this role of socialite like it was made for you.

It was a chance to know people, to speak and make new friends, but you learned quickly that those people weren't there for that, and picked up on how mostly of the people who talked to you just wanted to climb up the social ladder and gain some extra points from your father.

He, even, introduced you to a couple of people that seemed close to your age, and you chatted with them, feeling extremely anxious because you weren't used to this, so it was weird to them seeing such a pretty woman, with your status and fortune, acting so shy and quiet in a place that your dad practically owned.

After a couple of hours, you learned the agenda. All you had to do was put on a fake smile, get them off your father's shoulders and pretend you were very interested in what they had to say, hiding your uncomfortable expression behind your glass of champagne, promising them that you would arrange a reunion with your father someday.

One of those nights, your father introduced you to someone, someone who you didn't pay much attention because he seemed to be uninterested too, only being there for the sake of his job.

"Pretty girl, come here" your father said, a cheerful tone of voice as grabbed you by the shoulder to get your attention, snapping you out of your train of thoughts. "I want you to meet my friend, Doctor Crane"

You looked at the man in front of your dad, his pale blue eyes already sizing you up discretely, looking at you up and down in a way that didn't go unnoticed by you, a shiver running down your spine as his eyes finally locked with yours.

You couldn't help but feel small under his gaze, your glass now forgotten in your left hand, the right one extended to take his and stretch it for a quick second, returning to your first position, his expression remaining serious.

"Nice to meet you" he spoke, his voice sounding like velvet in your eyes, not quite sensing the undertone behind it. "Your father told me wonders about you"

You grin, the irony of that sentence making you laugh a little, what wonders could your father know about you? But you kept your composure, the conversation not going any further, and you forgot about him fast enough, when in another of those annoying parties you met the love of your life — or so you thought.

That same night, when you went back home, you were thinking about spending the rest of your life with some guy that flirted with you at the bar, and Jonathan, prayed to whatever thing listening to him up there, that crossed your path with his again.

He practically obsessed with you, because it felt right. You were young, beautiful, wealthy and had a last name that could open even more doors for him, getting tired of saving Falcone's man of going to jail; you were an opportunity, tied to a nice pair of legs.

After a few weeks of stalking, it kinda broke his heart that naive as he expected you, you got married to the guy from the party; he told you then his name was Lewis, and now you doubted it that was even true.

You were finally going to get what you always wished for, a family, love. And it was perfect. Everything was perfect.

It was a dream that you were living in. A dream that shattered in front of you no longer than three months after.

After you contracted married with this man, you took care of the house, now learning all of these housewife duties that you didn't know anything about, but making your best effort to please him, to be the perfect woman ever created, departing from your old life and habits and adjusting them to his own.

You couldn't be more happy, regardless of your bad cooking, the bad-swiped floor and the half-done bed that welcomed you both every night, you finally had love.

It lasted three months. Your wholesome real life fantasy of a marriage destroyed when you found out, accidentally, that this man was just an employee of your dad, willing to get a promotion if he married you. At that moment, you didn't know who you hated more, if the bastard, or your dad who was literally bribing the bastard to love you.

But your dad only wanted to make you happy, tho.

You were embarrassed, not quite sure of how to tell this to Jonathan, because after all, he was there for you, just for the money your dad was paying him. Your cursed the day your dad became rich, because all of it was making you miserable and it felt like it wasn't going to stop.

At this point, a feeling of despite against you was growing within Jonathan, after a few weeks treating you, he quickly remembered why he didn’t chose this path of career, but remembering that he was there because of a major reason; a reason more important than your helpless cries for attention.

He was sick of you, all you ever did was complain in the commodity of your million dollar house, unaware that there were more important problems in the world. It isn’t completely your fault, Jonathan thought one day, you were just an ungrateful brat, and his work was to tame you, and he planned to do just that today.

"So," he startled you, narrowing his eyebrows, an expression in his face that you could only understand as concern. "remember, if you don't speak, I can't help you".

You chuckle and shift your weight in the chair, immediately feeling your eyes fill up with tears as you confronted the fact that you had to speak about it, right now. He was quick to offer you his handkerchief, as he always did and with shaky hands you took it, sniffling onto it, closing your eyes as you felt your whole body shake with each one of your cries.

You felt Jonathan put his hand on your knee, softy caressing the skin that his thumb could reach, opening your eyes and looking at his, Jonathan welcoming you with a pitying look. You put the tissue aside, both him being so close and his scent impregnated on the piece of fabric making you feel a little giddy, a little confused.

Why was your heart racing so much? He was your therapist, here to talk about your former husband.

Jonathan couldn't help but grin a little, knowing he was maybe breaking a rule here, touching you like this, being so close. He couldn't care less, after all, he wasn't here listening to you cry and bitch about your whole life for the sake of your well-being. He was here because he wanted you to break and get on your knees to him. Figuratively and literally.

"It's so embarrassing" you struggled to spit out "He didn't even love me, Doctor"

He hummed, dragging his chair so he was a little closer to you, you looked at him through your teary lashes and tried to keep it together, this wasn't the first time you cried in front of him, but the reason itself was enough to make you feel full of shame.

He didn't say anything, this being a motivation for you to continue.

"My dad was paying him" you murmured, cleaning the mascara off your cheeks. "It was all a lie"

The whole situation was absurd, what happened to you still felt like a sick joke they were playing on you, your dad and Lewis, probably waiting for the perfect moment to tell you the truth.

But that wasn't going to happen, right now the only thing that felt true to you was Jonathan. He set you up to that, and you blindly fell on his silly trap.

"Poor thing" he cooed you, moving his hand a little further up your thigh, noticing the goosebumps on your skin. A mastermind, that's how he felt. "How could they?"

That was all the mendacity he fed you with since you started seeing him, making you believe he was actually empathizing with you, full of loathe against everyone who hurt you, who dared to leave you alone, but now he was there, his task being to pretend to care.

"It's pathetic" you blurted out, leaning into his touch when his prying hand went up to your cheek. You really couldn't say anything more, crying against his hand like it was something you did every monday morning. "I'm so sad. I don't know what to do"

He shook his face, your eyes meeting his with a confused expression, black stained tears dropping on your lap and wetting his hand before he returned it and looked over his clipboard, pretending to think.

You were so vulnerable, ready for him to destroy. He finally got you where he wanted. He then explained you that you were so sad that it made you unaware of a lot of things, blinded by your own pity against yourself that every door that opened, you closed. It all came down to a thing; you needed a diagnosis.

He gave you a moment to process the information, ready to continue with his plan.

"Actually," he started, his tone now more firm, more strict, the one he used when you were approaching the end of the session. On the last one, he recommended you to touch yourself, to liberate oxytocin on your brain or something you really didn't understood.

It was almost evil from his side, he knew that your only thought while doing it would he him ordering you to do so.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of such awful news, Y/N" he stated, making your heart skip a beat. "But I think you're sick"

You nearly gasped, the air got stuck in your throat, more tears gathering in your eyes. You lifted one of your hands to your chest, a million thoughts crossing your head as Jonathan's clever eyes examined your expression.

Bingo.

"Sick" you repeated after a moment, almost like you were making peace with the revelation. "How sick?"

It was an innocent question, your tone of voice shaking as your inferior lip trembled, holding it with your teeth in an attempt to not burst into tears again, your whole body feeling like it was going to break into a million peaces by how much you were shaking in the couch.

Jonathan was quick, standing from the chair he was on and taking a seat by your side, his hand swiftly placing in your knee. You looked at him confused, he never got this close, maybe your sickness was serious.

"What am I, Doctor?" you whispered, your eyes showing him a hint of fear that made him finally lose all his faked professionalism. "Depressed? Crazy?"

Both of you were dying of anticipation now; meanwhile you feared that you were going to get admitted to Arkham, Jonathan was seeing the golden ticket to the best future he could ever achieve, and all thanks to you.

"Oh, no, no" he purred, his hand making its way up to your thigh. "You're sick, not crazy"

You parted your lips as his hand moved more further, not really sure of what was happening, not daring to stop him, too scared of your mental health to think about anything else, not helping the way your legs started to part too.

A sudden gasp left your lips as his hand squeezed your tight, a smile you never saw on him appearing on his face. The crying stopped a moment ago, the surprise of having him so close making you go a little numb.

"I know what a girl like you needs" he said, almost sternly, like his hand wasn't centimeters away from your panties.

Was in that moment, that you knew this wasn’t about therapy anymore.

"You think so?" you whispered, your voice still shaky, but now for a whole different reason. "And what is it, Doctor?"

"To be fucked stupid"

It almost shocked you how he said that as it was a normal diagnosis, like he gave you a name of a medicine you could go and buy at any drugstore in town. You gulped and didn't move when his grip tightened on your leg, your face growing red.

A loud gasp escaped your lips when at your lack of response, Jonathan grabbed you hard by the jaw and forced you to look at him. Your eyes glistened with nothing but fear, your brows narrowing as you mumbled something that he really couldn't understand, and it wasn't like he wanted to.

"You're sick, Y/N" he repeated, more harshly this time, his hand moving your head as he spoke. "And I'm going to cure you"

He let go of your face to clasp his lips against yours, a kiss very far away from sweet, his mouth moving roughly against yours. You never had been kissed like this, so you tried to play it along, trying to show him some of the love you felt for him, that you thought you owed him.

But he didn't care if you felt loved during the kiss, trying to assert the dominance he held upon you, his hand now holding firmly the back of you neck to prevent you from pulling away.

It was a mess; your teeth clashed, drool was dripping from your chin as his tongue explored every space of your mouth, not leaving anywhere of it untouched. Your movements were a little stiff, unsure of what to do, trying to provide the sweetness that he lacked.

His hand moved to your the front of your neck and squeezed it a little, making you yelp in surprise, the sound muffled by his mouth. You tried to get away from the kiss, confused about his rough actions against you, a little scared of him even, almost like you didn’t trust him every little part of your brain in this same couch for the last couple of months.

But then it clicked on your foggy brain, he knew you, perfectly— you only knew his name, you didn’t know what this man was capable of.

You could only move a few centimeters away from his hungry mouth, your lips parted as tears welled in your eyes from the pressure he was applying to your neck.

“Stop” you managed to stutter, your breath mixing with his. “I can’t- breathe”

You doubted that he listened to you, your voice not coming out of your throat at all and getting stuck in your larynx, your voice-box completely muffled by his strong grip.

“Shut up, brat” he spitted, his tone sounding full of abhor, your eyes wide open as you felt the air leaving your body and your lungs starting to burn. “Always getting what you want”

You weakly placed one of your hands around his wrist, another attempt of gasp elicited from your agape mouth as he lifted his other hand and choked you with both, something in your dizzy mind telling you that he was possessed.

“Crying all the time- complaining” he continued, not caring if you were listening, the suffocation being to much to bare now. “So selfish”

And maybe he was.

Your brain was filled with fear, wondering how it all went from a kiss to this— almost getting killed by your therapist in your couch. You opened your eyes to meet his, feeling like your chest was on fire as there wasn’t any air flowing in, seeing how the blue of Jonathan’s eyes has darkened and his lips were parted as well, the muscles of his jaw twitching as he choked you to death.

Your eyebrows narrowed together in terror as you noticed that familiar tingly sensation in your lower belly and your thighs clenching together. Maybe it was something about him exercising this power over you, how you felt so feeble under his touch, that was probably leaving bruises on your neck for you to carry and show around what he was making you do it.

You didn’t have enough time to think about it, you were practically dying.

“And you are enjoying this?” he said with an amused tone, probably noticing how your thighs fragily contracted against one another.

You felt yourself slowly lose your consciousness when finally the relief came and the air started to flow again to your desperate lungs, taking long and loud puffs of air when his hand let go of your neck. Your erratic breath was interrupted by a loud moan that escaped you when Crane yanked you by your hair and shoved you to the floor.

He was quick yo position you between his legs, looking at you through his unfixed glasses, giving you a twisted smile that made you quiver in fear, that growing wet patch on your panties making you feel like a really sick girl.

“Doctor-” you mumbled, closing your eyes as he pulled your hair, withdrawing a mewl off your mouth. “Hurts”

“You talk when I tell you to talk” he snickered, adjusting the way his fingers gripped your hair. You thought that he might just pull out the strand he was tugging. “I’m sick of your whining”

You felt more tears well up in your eyes; not sure if it was from the pain in your head or how his words felt like a knife that landed right on your heart. You were confused, sad, angry— a little hot, too.

“I pay you yo listen to me” you said, your voice so shaky you were lucky he could understand you. You wished he didn’t understand you.

Another sort of moan left your lips as a hard slap made a landing in your cheek, your face turned to the side because of the impact. You closed your eyes in disbelief, a cry coming out as you felt helpless, wondering if this was some exposure therapy he was experimenting on you.

He repeated himself, instructing you to talk only when you were told so, nodding in defeat as you accepted whatever this was and continued to play along with Jonathan’s sick fantasy of controlling you, without even knowing it.

You looked at him with nothing but inquietude, the look in his eyes giving you the foreboding that nothing good was about to happen now, frightened of what we would do to you.

He didn’t show any hints of letting go of your hair anytime soon, just holding it firmly to keep you looking at him through your heavy lashes, a wicked grin on his smug face.

“Let’s give that whining mouth of yours a good use” he said, and you gulped, understanding what he wanted and quivering in fear, not really understanding why the sticky sensation between your legs grew.

“Undo my pants” he commanded, and you stayed still, your eyes not leaving his even when another slap landed on your tear-wet face. “Do as you’re told, brat. This might be your only cure”

You couldn’t help but sob a little, his tone sounding so definitive, so professional. Your trembling hands reached his belt and unbuckling it ungracefully, taking longer than he expected, you heard him chuckle as you unbuttoned his pants afterwards, then putting your hands back in front of your lap.

“C’mon” he pulled your hair again, causing you to moan in pain. “Don’t make me tell you what to do”

You looked at him again in nothing but shame, trying to resist to this humiliating request of his, but complying it anyways. He said he was going to cure you, but now you doubted it, right now, you only wanted this to be over.

With a last look at his eyes you returned your attention to the growing bulge in his slacks, the shame in your brain being present at all times, not quite helping the way your eyes were fixated on his clothed member. You were quick to free him out after your staring earned you a other harsh pull of hair, your lips turned into a line when his cock slapped his abdomen, causing his dress shirt to wrinkle a little.

“Go on, Y/N” he encouraged you, as you looked at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him for mercy, knowing that even if you screamed it at him, he just wouldn’t listen. “This isn’t about what you want, anymore. Is about what you need”

A tear slid from your eyes and disappeared down your cheek when his free hand placed the tip of his hard cock on your parted lips, gesturing you to take it and not waste more of his time— more than you already did.

“Open up, whore” he said under his breath, using your hair as a device to move your head and help you shove his length down your throat. You complied, the tears in your eyes now soaking in you cheeks by the effort that you were making trying to welcome his thick shaft down your mouth.

You were sure you scratched him with your teeth a few times as he bobbed your head up and down with his strong hand, manhandling you without care for his own pleasure. You placed your hands on his knees, trying not to gag, but when his tip touched the bottom of your throat, you couldn’t help it.

You cried as you felt suffocated again, now for a whole different reason, a more humiliating one, and you almost wished he killed you then. His hips buckled everytime your lips reached the base of his cock, the room filled with the sounds of your mouth and saliva coating his shaft and the soft moans that came out of his poisoned lips.

“Take it, whore” he said, his voice now husky and distorted by the pleasure, the pain that your teeth accidentally inflicted on him turning him even more. “God- you are horrible at this”

He chuckled between heavy breaths, pulling you by the hair and releasing his cock from your mouth, a vulgar pop filling both of your ears at the sudden separation of your lips and his member. Your eyes looked at the floor, feeling such a shame that the mere thought of meeting his face with your fearful face made you cringe, the pulsating pain on the back of your head making you dizzy.

“You can’t suck dick properly” he said, his tone sounding like he was making fun of you. “No wonder why your husband left you. You’re just pathetic”

You finally rose up your face to look at that insufferable smile of his, ignoring the way his cock was still hanging there in front of you, almost brushing your nose. His fingers finally untangled from your hair and giving you some sort of solace, the consolation that this traumatic session was over.

Maybe the remedy was worse than the sickness itself.

“Jonathan, stop it, plea-”

Your imploration was completely ignored, followed by another slap on your wet cheek that made you cry even more, not understanding how this man could’ve been the same one who made you felt loved and finally listened. You fell for a lie once again.

“Get on the couch” he simply said, his words were like a bucket of cold water fell on you. “Stop the bitching, don’t want to hear it”

“And I’m your doctor. Not Jonathan” he reminded you, making you feel even more ashamed.

You did as he told, again, half-standing from the floor and sitting next to him, trying to take as much space from him as you could before he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, your face growing red as his face was now centimeters away from yours.

“You look so beautiful when you cry” he whispered, caressing your face but trying to nor wipe the tears away, almost like he was admiring you. It made you melt into his touch, glad that his kind demeanor was there again. Even if his words made you cringe— and the fact that his cock was still out, you felt your heart grew warmer by the way he tenderly touched you.

It didn’t last much longer, when his lips twitched into a malicious smile and went down to nibble your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses around the bruised skin and bitting where his fingers hurt you previously, making your fingers wrap on his hair and cry for mercy, trying for him to stop hurting you this much.

“Shut up, stupid brat” he repeated that same insult, making you swallow your cries, closing your eyes in disbelief as he continued to injure your already suffering skin.

You arched your back in surprise when all of the sudden his hands reached for your breasts, groping your tits like his life depending on it, stimulating you through the fabric of your shirt, but all you felt was fear and anger, impotence flowing through your veins because you just couldn’t scream and push him away, fear was freezing you on the spot.

The worst part? You maybe didn’t wanted to push him away. Because maybe if he gets what he wants now you would be cured and he’ll be back to normal, returning you the sweet Doctor Crane that you met once, not this monster that was groping you like a piece of meat.

He clicked his tongue and dropped both of his hands to spread your legs open, forcing your back to drop onto the hand rester of the couch. You looked at him with big eyes, your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest and scream to Jonathan that enough was enough, you just couldn’t take any of this anymore.

But your heart stayed there, between your lungs that seemed incapable to hold any air, making your breathing erratic. So nobody screamed Jonathan to stop, and he continued with his profanation against your persona— your dignity.

He bit his lip at the sight of your fucked-up face, your legs open as it showed him the dark patch on your baby blue panties, darting his eyes from your half-exposed crotch to your teary eyes.

“God, keep crying and I might come now” he growled, lowering his face to meet your pussy, kissing it through your underwear, making you mewl, closing your eyes at the sudden attention your core was getting.

You felt embarrassed at how much you enjoyed when he moved the fabric to the side and started making out with your cunt, swallowing your fluids like a starved man.

“So wet” he mumbled against your labia, the vibration making your eyes roll back, bitting your lip to prevent any moan to come out; he was raping you, why did he make you enjoy it? “I bet you like this, to be treated like a whore”

You shook your head, more tears falling out of your eyes as you felt nothing else but humiliation, pleasure washing over your body everytime his tongue brushed your clit, your back arched against nothing.

“You like it?” he said, finally pulling out and pushing his body up so his face was in front of yours, his cock grazing against your now stimulated pussy, a gasp leaving your lips, a gasp that quickly turned into a hurting moan when his hand slapped you again, this time in your throbbing cunt. “Answer me”

“I- I do” you whispered, gripping his shoulders when you felt him align the head of his member with your whole, scared of how it was going to fit. You had trouble taking it when he face-fucked you, how the fuck it was going to fit down there?

“I’m going to fuck you so good” he whispered between pants, jerking himself off before entering you. “You’re going to forget that pathetic husband of yours”

You couldn’t help but cry, trying to push him off by the shoulders, a terrified look on your face. “It won’t fit, Doctor” you pleaded, a crooked grin on his face as you keep on calling him that. “I beg you, don’t-”

“Yes, beg me” he said, starting to push his member inside you with a slow but relentlessly pace, not giving you enough time to adjust, just to scream and hit him weakly on the chest, face and shoulders before ge grabbed your hands and pinned them down, on the sides of your body. “I’m going to cure you- do you so good”

His voice was low, as he barely could speak when he felt just how tight you were, your walls hugging his cock just the right way, his pulsating head making your mind dizzy, the stinging pain starting to be forgotten.

But when he slid out and entered back it, the hardness of his movement made your insides burn with pain, a loud cry echoing in the walls of the living room as he started to trust into your pussy with a fast pace, not caring at all if you felt good.

He snapped his hips against yours with an animalistic force, growls escaped from his mouth every time his cock was welcomed by the warmth of your stretch whole, the sensation making him go even more feral, making you cry more.

He let go of one of your hands and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at his eyes as he fucked you vigorously, the blue on his iris not existent anymore, only his widely dilated pupils meeting yours, your blurred vision distinguishing the depraved expression in his face.

“You- so tight” he snarled, his voice barely audible, covered by the sound of skin slapping and your loud cries. “I bet your stupid husband didn’t fuck you like this”

You felt nothing but shame as you felt his cock now sliding in and out more easily, the wetness of your cunt growing as he spoke to you like that, that familiar heat flourishing in your lower belly as his words degraded you, your cries quickly becoming moans.

“This was all you needed- fuck” he said, his spit splashing your face as he talked, his words full of disdain. “A good dick, that’s all it takes to keep bitches like you quiet” You nodded, thinking that if you agreed he would stop. How wrong you were.

In a quick movement Jonathan took his cock out and spun you around, not giving you time to get on your ass up by laying your chest down before he stabbed your hole again, pushing your skirt all the way up to see how his pelvis came into collision with your ass.

You were moaning like a bitch in heat now, sure that the maids were listening, not really caring about it anymore. Jonathan was fucking you nice and hard, your mouth wide open as his tip brushed your cervix, screaming to him to keep it right there.

“I’m close” he said, pulling your hair back to press his chest to your back, his other hand going down to play with your swollen clit, wanting your to come around his cock like the slut he knew you were. “Come with me, you whore”

“Yes” you moaned, your tongue out as his cock hit the right spots, making your hips to move against his, grinding against his hand and dick, feeling your wetness drip down to your thighs. “Yes, yes, I want to”

He laughed, approaching your ear with his tongue to bite it, leaving a long and wet kiss underneath it that made you grow hotter, your eyes closed as you let him use you; the only thought in your mind being him and his wonder-working cock.

Truth was, he was fucking you stiffly, every slam of his hips stronger than the last one, but you were so deprived of touch, so dick-starved, that even if Jonathan was fucking you like a lifeless doll, only for the sake of his pleasure, you loved it, even when it hurt you.

“I’m going to fill you up” he said against your ear, his hand leaving your clit unattended as he grabbed your hip to increase the velocity of his thrusts, ramming your hole like a demented man, making your head drop against his shoulder and scream at the ceiling, now knowing what he meant by curing you.

“Going to get you pregnant” he said, more to himself than anything “so you don’t have to bitch about being alone anymore”

You opened your eyes with terror, you didn’t want children, you were so young. The idea made you frightened, the moaning now sounding like little nos and pull outs, but Jonathan didn’t listen.

“Doctor please, please, pull out” you pleaded, reaching for his hips and trying to push him away, one of his hands slapping your ass and pulling you down by your shoulder blade so you wouldn’t fight anymore. “Doctor Crane please”

“I will fucking fill you up, Y/N” he chanted, laughing at the idea of your round belly and your swollen tits, carrying his baby all day and feeling all worked up and needy all day, only waiting for him to fuck you all day. “You won’t be alone again. You won’t be sad again”

Then you realized it.

When he came, your hot walls creamed every single drop of his cum, making his thrusts sloppy and slow, his moans filling your ears as you sobbed under his touch, feeling his seed paint your walls and load your insides with his sperm.

That was your cure.

His hot release that now flooded inside your leaking cunt, that was your so-promised antidote. He took away your solitude by giving you his and yours firstborn, a bastard baby that would give you the company that you lacked.

You felt him chuckle as he rode out his high, the chase of his own climax made you forget yours, so now there you were, your swollen cunt looking for its release while his rested among your insides calmly, like it was meant to be.

He didn’t pull out immediately, taking his time to appreciate the sight of your skirt resting in your hips all rolled up, your bruised neck and messy hair, the way your ass was exposed to him by the way he had you arching your back. All for him— for him to wreck.

He pulled out and rolled his eyes when you started crying, now being annoying instead of hot. You sat on the couch and saw him button his pants and fix his hair, hissing when you felt nothing but pain growing in your worn-out pussy. You explained through your weak voice how he ruined your life, that he was the worst person you’ve ever met and that now you had to carry the product of his sick and twisted rapist-fantasy, even tried to hit him, but your pathetic tantrum only gained you another slap in the face, and a stern look.

When he tried to stand up and leave, you grabbed him by the wrist and begged him not to, he couldn’t just leave you, not now, not ever.

“Don’t be so ungrateful” he said, a smile that made you feel nothing but trepidation in his face. “You’ll never be alone again”

You couldn’t help but feel scared. Scared of him, of what just happened, of what’s going to happen next, scared for your future son with this evil specie of a man.

When you continued to cry, and he pulled you for a hug as he assured you that he would never leave you; and how could he? He had a long life of success waiting for him now, giving a girl of your status his last name, his children. Oh, it’s going to be wonderful, he just needed to tame you and make you the perfect slave for him, and that wasn’t going to be hard.

You were sure that you’ll never be loved, but at least now Jonathan was going to be with you. You’ll never be alone again.

thanks for reading. w/love, fenina;)

taglist: @lovesickxcherries @genini @ilunapb @ostricx @devotedlyshadowytheorist

if you want to be added let me know, it’ll be my pleasure🫶🏻

#cillian x fem!reader #jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy x reader #cillian smut #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #jonathan crane fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #jonathan crane x you #cillian one shot #cillian fic #peaky blinder imagine #batman fanfiction #scarecrow x reader

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wintfleur · 3 months

Note

hi!! starting off, I love ur works omg theyre so cute im crying. I wanted to request a lando x f!reader where its set up after the Vegas crash :( and shes like very anxious and jittery even after they confirmed he was okay, she doesn't wanna let go of him and hes comforting her even though he was the one that was hurt. Im so sorry if this was too long!!!! love ur writing <3

ꔫ darling, I’m okay I promise

°. — pairings ( lando norris x fem! reader )

°. — summary ( you hate to see lando hurt, and lando hates to see his girlfriend worry )

°. — details ( g; angst?, comfort, fluff? w; kissing, I think that’s all wc; 1.9k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( it wasn’t to long don’t worry about it! I love detailed requests! Also thank youu, I’m so happy you love my writings 🥹 so sorry for how long it took me to get it out! I loved writing this! Please don’t be a silent reader, I love to hear your thoughts! )

main masterlist f1 masterlist

You forgot how to breathe for a few moments when his crash was shown on the screen, you immediately felt a cold blanket of fear cover you as you brought your hand to cover your mouth, year eyes blurring with unshed tears. You've seen many crashes before so you could tell that this crash was bad, and your mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusions. You only looked away from the screen when you felt a soft hand on your shoulder, you blinked away your tears and looked at Max who was giving you a small smile, but you could see the worry in his eyes for his best friend.

“Don't worry, you know lando he's going to be fine” Max nodded, moving to turn his body so you would be out of the sight of the camera that would definitely try to pan to you to see your reaction. ‘Lando Norris’s Girlfriends reaction to His Las Vegas gp crash’ Max could already see the headlines and all the tweets of your reaction all over the internet. You sniffle and do your best to give him a smile

“Yeah of course”

You didn't believe your words or max’s.

Max and Pietra didn't want to leave you alone, especially after the news of lando immediately being sent to the hospital came out, but you had reassured them that you were fine being alone in lando’s room in the garage, telling them to continue to watch the race. You couldn't watch any more of the race, feeling nauseous as you watched the cars continue and Lando's wrecked car being towed away, pieces of the car being cleaned up. The sweet couple had only left you alone when your phone rang, a call from lando’s mother.

You had calmed down a little as you talked with Cisca, you loved Lando's mother so much, and even though she was also worried, she reassured you that her son would be fine. The two of you stayed on the phone for a while until she had to go, ending the call with a i love you and letting her know that you would keep her updated on any news you would get. And as soon as the call ended those fearful thoughts came back.

You tried to busy yourself, cleaning up his room a little and hanging up Lando's clothes that he previously wore and didn't hang up, not wanting them to get wrinkly. But by the time you were done, there was still no news, so you sat on the small couch, your leg absentmindedly bouncing as you tried to focus on anything in the room other than your thoughts. You got bored staring at the wall, so you distracted yourself with a game lando had downloaded on your phone, claiming that he had no more room on his phone.

You looked away from the bottom of the screen of your phone that was filled with the bright colors of the game and to the top when you heard the familiar ding of a text. It was from a number you didn't have saved, but you quickly pressed on the notification. It was a picture of Lando smiling at the hospital, the message under the picture letting her know that Lando was fine and would be coming back soon. You knew it was someone from McLaren who texted you, Lando must have given them your number since his phone was in his bag next to you. You quickly thanked them.

You turned your phone off with a relieved sigh now that you knew that your boyfriend was okay, but that worry and fear still didn't go away, if anything you became more anxious. He didn't get hurt, this time. Every time he gets into that car there is a chance that he would get hurt, it makes you dizzy the longer you think of it. You remembered the talk you had with Cisca when you and lando first started dating, you had asked her how she copes with the fear of lando getting hurt or worse in the car. She had explained that the fear never leaves, you just become better at dealing with it. You had felt reassured and scared at the same time by her words.

You quickly texted Cisca letting her know that lando is okay, sending her the picture as well. A small smile forming on your lips when she responds saying ‘he's so silly’. You really wished he was here already, you lean your head back against the couch, your fidgeting fingers folding on your lap so you could stop picking at the skin around your nails, a bad habit you thought you had gotten rid of.

You tried to think of anything positive as you waited for your boyfriend to come back, hoping that the time would move faster. You thought of the vacation you, Lando and your friends would be going on after the season ends, you thought about how nice it's going to be waking up with him every day in your shared apartment. You missed the domestic life you had with Lando during the off season. He missed it too.

Your eyes flustered opened, and your head snapped up at the sound of the door to the room opening. Your eyes immediately go to the door, and you are quick to your feet when you see your boyfriend open the door and quickly shut it behind him, his arms already open for you. You rush to his arms, wrapping your arms around his waist and squeezing your eyes shut as you basically shoved your face in his neck. Lando smiles and wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you tight, his eyes shutting as well as the both of you just basking in the feeling of being in each other's arms again.

You held onto him tighter, but not too tight because you worried it might hurt him. Feeling his heartbeat against you and the image of his crash replaying through your head and remembering the fear you felt brought tears to your eyes. You nestled your face against his neck, the feeling of your nose brushing against his neck almost made him laugh, the smile on his lips turned to a frown when he heard you sniffle, holding in your tears.

“Please don't cry darling, I’m okay” Lando whispered as he brought one of his hands under your shirt, his warm hand caressing the skin on your back. He could tell that you were doing your best to hold it in, you hated seeing him hurt, he knew that crash wasn't easy for you to watch, and he hated that he was the one making you so worried. Your voice comes out muffled against his neck as your refused to let him go “I was so scared Lando.”

“I know baby, i know” Lando mumbled, bringing his other hand to the back of your nape to softly pull you back from his neck so he could see your face. You opened your eyes to look up into his and Lando felt his heart string get pulled when he saw the tears in your eyes, he hated seeing you cry. Lando moved his hand from your nape to cup your cheek, his thumb softly caressing your cheek “Darling, I’m okay I promise.”

“You promise” you asked as your eyes searched for signs in his eyes and face that he wasn't okay. Lando didn't like not being the best he could be, and he didn't like worrying you. He wouldn't lie to you; he would just try to protect you from the truth. Lando smiles and leans down, softly kissing your lips between his words “I promise darling” he rested his forehead against yours as he reluctantly pulled away from your lips.

You moved your hands from his shoulders and trailed them down to his arms where you softly gripped onto them and pulled him towards the couch, wanting him to rest as much as he could before the two of you could get back to the hotel. Lando sat on the couch, and you were quick to nestle yourself into his side, his arm around your shoulder and your arm around his stomach and your head on his chest.

“Baby i'm not going to disappear if you let go” Lando chuckles once he feels you squeeze him again, as if you were checking that he truly was there. You frown at the thought and find yourself clinging to him tighter, one of your legs moving to drape over one of his knees, wanting to be as close to your boyfriend as you can “I don't want to take the chance.”

“Don't worry darling, you're stuck with me” Lando smiled fondly as he thought of his future with you, he brushed your hair out of your face and placed a soft and long kiss on your forehead. You smiled and started to absentmindedly move your hand up and down lando’s side in a soothing motion that always calmed lando down “I like the sound of that.”

“You know what I like the sound of?” Lando asked you as he moved his hand that wasn't on your shoulder to your thigh, gently squeezing it. You hummed and tilted your head up to look at him, waiting for his answer. Lando could hear the faint loudness of everything going on outside the room they were in, and he desperately wanted the two of you away from the loudness. He didn't want to admit it but he was also still a little shaken up from his crash, but he wanted to put on a brave face for you. He smiled down at you “Me, you, our hotel bed, and room service.”

“The things I would do for some French fries” you playfully groaned as you shook your head, Lando's idea sounded amazing, the two of you snuggled up in bed watching a movie as you ate. Lando smirked and he rubbed your thigh as he whispered teasingly in your ear “Tell me more.”

“Lando!” You exclaimed with a shy smile, hiding your face in his chest, feeling flustered from his seductive and teasing tone. Lando laughs loudly, throwing his head back against the couch, very much enjoying your bashfulness. You pout and sit up straight from leaning against him, watching as he laughs at your expense, your boyfriend always did love to tease you.

You give him a deadpan look once he lifts his head up to give you a smile “I hate you so much.”

“No, you don’t” Lando smiles cheekily and before you could respond, he brought his hand that was resting on your shoulder to the back of your nape, pulling you down for a much-desired kiss. You let out a hum of surprise at the quick movement, but you close your eyes and move your hand from his side to cup his cheek, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

You only pull away from the kiss for a moment to catch your breath, but Lando was eager to lock your lips back into a kiss, trailing his hand down from your nape to your back, pressing your body against his. You let Lando take control of the kiss, your mouth parting and his tongue slipping in. As much as you loved to kiss your boyfriend, you really didn't want to get caught making out with him in his room. So, you reluctantly pull away from the kiss, whispering breathlessly against his lips with a smile.

“Yeah, your right, I don’t”

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @cixrosie @ophcelia )

#﹕─┈ roro’s works #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #mclaren

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strawbsj · 2 months

Note

hi, can u do gp Karina x reader?

I have been feral over rina and step sis smut so I had to write one!!!

STEP-SIS RINA!!

Pairings: Step-sister G!p Karina x step-sister Fem reader!

Word count: 1k-ish

Warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk sex, p in v, words bitch, slut, whore etc used, mean Karina, switch reader and rina, make out session, parents divorce, pantie stealing, kinda fuck girl rina, step-cest, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your Willy), not proofread and just nasty smut!!!

—————————————————————————

Moving or changing environments was never something you enjoyed. Each time you moved to a new house, you were met with an unfamiliar and hollow feeling. When you found out that your parents were separating and everyone would be starting a new life in different homes, it felt like a sharp pain in your heart. And to add to that, your mother has found a new man, which means that you’re going to move in with him and his bitch of a daughter.

Karina was never nice to you, you knew her since high school. She was a bitch, heartbreaker, mean attitude and what you call a whore. She has fucked every girl you’d think of principals daughter, fucked. Girls football Teams captain, done ages ago. Girls basketball teams coach, done. Every girl that would pass by, lured already.

She could literally get anyone down between her legs, sucking her cock dry. Only one person has never acknowledged her, you. You saw her as an attention-begging bitch, whose chin is up.

That made Karina’s jaw clench in humiliation. She made tons of plans but none of them worked, all of them failing miserably. The way you never even glance her way or give her the attention that she wants. She almost gave up until…

She found out her dad was moving in with your mom, it was like discovering a $100 bill on the street, waiting for someone to claim it. And what a fool she would be if she didn't grip that chance.

During the first meeting between your mother, yourself, and her father, she was smiling brightly and talking non-stop. She was showering you and your mom with compliments and fake pouting when it was time for you to leave. Her fake act was so fake that it made you feel nauseous and you wanted to vomit.

And that’s how she acted every time your mom and her man were around, doing the most stomach aching fake shit she could ever muster. You never even flashed a smile towards her, your mom thought you were too mean and rude to your step-sister who was only trying to be a good sister to you.🥺😔

She eavesdropped when your mom was talking to you, or more like complaining about how you should start getting grip of your mean attitude. Even tho she is the mean one here, she only plastered one of her signature smirks and headed towards her room.

Your parents were leaving for their honeymoon, leaving you and that annoying thing all alone and….together. Like you thought things can’t get worse but oh how wrong you were.

You hated to admit or acknowledge this, the agitated tension replaced by sexual tension. You don’t know why or how, but the way she left lingering touches on your thigh. Or how she rubbed her crotch against your heat when passing by you in the kitchen or how she stole your used panties and jerked off to them, you know each piece of your panties and the one she stole was your favorite so you immediately noticed when it got lost, only finding it under her bed days later when your mom told you to clean her room since Karina is all day out.

You smirked to yourself and decided to play with her further, your outfits getting skimpier and skimpier each passing day. Your clothed heat rubbing against her uncomfortable erection a little longer or the way your boobs press against her back.

You were laying comfortably on your bed scrolling through whatever shit that popped up into your feed. Karina was out in those frat parties probably a girl bent over and against some available counter for her, ramming her cock in and out of that slutty pussy.

But to your surprise she was not. She was downstairs having her own bar at home, drinking anything that she had her hands on, her alcohol tolerance was high and she could drink and be perfectly fine. So when she came to your room, alcohol smell overshadowing her expensive perfume you knew that she had drunk a lot and is not in her right senses.

“Karina what are you-“ you got cut off with a strong whiskey tasting kiss, it was like you were the one who drunk not her, for actually kissing her back. Even tho your mind hated this, your heart loved every bit of it. Your lips dancing against each other’s passionately. She bit your lower lip earning a gasp from you, her tongue moving inside your mouth exploring your mouth, then her tongue started sucking your tongue.

Her hands roamed all over your body, not knowing where to touch first. Her fingers impatiently fiddling with the straps of your top, letting it slide down along the strap of your bra. Your neck area and the sexy parting of your boobs, leaving her mouth watered. She started kissing down your jaw then neck and chest, coating all this area with her saliva, and the saliva that once was in your mouth.

Her hands squishing and squeezing your soft mounds, the smell of the alcohol and those intoxicating kisses making your brain shut and mind dizzy. Desire swiping off all the thoughts of this being wrong.

Your hand traveled down to her sweats, palming the rock hard erection that she has been slowly humping against your legs. You massaged it and rubbed small circles over it, making her hiss in the pleasurable pain, wanting more.

You changed positions,you now on top of her. Your clit making contact with her base, grinding yourself against it, high pitched moans threatening to fall, but you couldn’t care less and let them fall.

Her swinging her hips and rubbing her erection back at you. The friction more and better.

You lifted yourself up and slid down her sweats then boxers. Her cock springing out, red and heavy, blood rushing through it. You discarded your shorts and top, throwing them in the same pile as her sweatpants. Your legs were in each side of her hips, you lifted yourself up once more before sinking down on her length. A choked moan from you and a groan from her. Her tip hit your g-spot perfectly. You stayed there not moving, enjoying the sight of her so desperate and hungry for you. Squirming trying to start thrusting back up at you, gripping your waist so tightly, that red nail marks were there.

You leaned down on her, making your boobs suffocate her. She took a deep inhale, processing your perfume. The smell that made her crave you more and a low whine escaped her lips.

You decided enough teasing. You started sinking your core down to meet her tip, which parted your folds deliciously. Whimpers coming from the both of you. You fucked yourself faster, using her as your own personal dildo.

Her loud groans echoing through the room along with your moans. She was always dominant in every hook up she had, but being the submissive for once was different type of pleasure. One she didn’t think she’d like this much.

The pornographic scene and noises that came out of you and the way you basically were jumping on her dick. Made her cum shoot deep inside your womb, your tummy slightly swollen and your juices ran down your thighs then her pelvis. Your tight hole squeezing her now more.

She laid there limp and you laid on top of her. Not long after she was in a deep slumber, you were admiring her deeply, you never knew how pretty she actually is till now.

Deep down you maybe loved this even more than her.

#karina smut #aespa karina x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa smut #aesp karina #yu jimin #yu jimin x reader #yu jimin smut #yu jimin x fem reader #aespa jimin #aespa hard thoughts #aespa hard hours #aespa x you #karina x reader #aespa karina #karina

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nomazee · 7 months

Note

Silly little thing I thought of

Like like imagine dazai and the reader have been friends for years like the reader knew him since his 15 goofer era... and they got used to eachother sm they usually sleep in eachothers beds n stuff :3

LIKE SOMETHING IS GOING ON BUT THEY STILL HAVE THE FRIENDSHIP LABEL.. 🐺🤞

this concept stuck itself in my head like a tapeworm and it has not escaped me for days IM ACTUALLY OBSESSED i wrote SO MUCH for this omfg i had so much fun writing this thank u for this wonderful idea pairing: dazai x gn reader word count: 2.5k content: fluff, vignette-style writing, friends-to-lovers unspoken label type of thing, soft dazai, domestic fluff without the marriage bit, banter, idiots in love im taking requests!

===

Dazai’s toes are still as frigid at night as they were seven years ago. You, of all people, would be the best person to measure this—not in a weird way, but you two have shared a bed at least once a week since your teenage years. You know all of Dazai’s annoying sleeping habits, including his ones of sleeping without socks and digging his feet into your shins for warmth.

Annoying fucker. You sigh, batting his arm away from its loose hold around your waist. “Get your toes off of me,” you croak out, half-conscious and mind still addled with the remains of your once-deep sleep.

“What toes,” Dazai mutters back, smacking your intervening hand away and returning his arm to its rightful place around you. “I don’t have toes. I got rid of them after puberty, ‘member?”

“I’m gonna kill you.” You won’t, not really, and the threats have lost their edge after all these years, but it’s fun to throw at him when he annoys you like this. “I know all your weaknesses, Osamu. One wrong move and you’ll be missing more than just your toes.”

“I’m cold, dear. Would you really let me freeze like this? So mean.”

You try not to choke up at the nickname. He’s been a fan of those recently, at least in the last year. You think it has something to do with your new places at the Agency. New workplace, new life, and new nicknames, apparently. If you overthink it you might puke on him and fall back asleep.

“Not cruel. We have money now, you know. Go buy yourself socks. Wool, or something. Stupid ass cold ass toes.”

He goes quiet. Even in all these years of knowing him, half-living with him, you can’t tell if it’s a normal lull in the conversation or a calculated pause. It doesn’t unnerve you as much as it used to, but there’s still a cold chill at the nape of your neck that springs up at times like these.

“Why would I do that when I have you?”

Dazai has also been a fan of this recently—strange uncharacteristic moments of tenderness. He peels himself back for you and bares himself raw. The implications make you nauseous. Swathed in the darkness of the night, he can’t see your fingers twitch from where they lay next to your head, away from his sight; or the conflicted expression that crosses your face.

Easing your breath out into a steady, deep rhythm, you pretend to be asleep. It’s not like he can’t tell, but the message is there. Let’s not talk about this until the morning. Let’s just sleep for the night. Let’s keep what we have and not change it for the worse.

At age eighteen, shaken with the death of his friend and haunted by blood stains on his fingers, Dazai defects from the mafia.

He doesn’t take you with him—at least, he doesn’t mean to. He expects to leave quietly, or as quietly as blowing up Chuuya’s car can be. He doesn’t expect you to drag yourself along kicking and screaming.

Dazai doesn’t remember much about specifics, but he knows that one day he was alone in his underground apartment and the next day you were there. The kitchen smelled like melted marshmallows and rice krispies and his dingy counter was covered in sprinkles.

“Hi, Dazai,” you’d greeted conversationally. “I’m making your favorite.”

He doesn’t even like rice krispie treats. Hates them, actually.

In truth, your presence is less the result of you “kicking and screaming” and more like an after-effect of your own quiet stubbornness. Your kicking-and-screaming was done in the passive aggressive way that you cleaned his dishes and made his bed and left big trays of rice krispie treats in his fridge for the next week.

Neither of you talked about Chuuya. It was better for you that way.

On the first night, Dazai remembers you holding him from behind, forehead pressed into the stretch of skin between his neck and shoulder. He’s sensitive there despite being wrapped in his stupid scratchy bandaids. His memories for the rest of the night are overrun by a feeling of want, an itch to feel your fingers on his bare skin, a craving for your hand on his stomach to slide beneath the hem of his shirt and press into the tender skin of his abdomen and keep him warm.

===

“Leave me alone,” you grumble from behind the sleeve of your jacket. “I’m napping.”

“It’s not napping if you’re still awake.”

“I wouldn’t be awake if it wasn’t for your annoying ass.” Rotating your body to face the ceiling from your place on the Agency’s couch, you sigh when your view is blocked by Dazai’s ugly stupid face. He’s smiling in that conniving way that he does when he’s about to do something super annoying. Another sigh escapes you when he leans down close enough for the overgrown ends of his hair to brush against your nose. The puff of air from your verbal discontent makes the strands sway slightly. You try not to think about how mesmerizing he looks when he’s this close, with the light from the window casting a golden sheen on the crown of his head.

Since when did you get this sappy? Must be Dazai rubbing off on you, obviously.

“So tired already! It’s barely noon.”

“You came into work an hour ago. I’ve been here since eight. Try being responsible for a change, might exhaust you just as much.”

“Hmm.” He tilts his head, big stupid shiny brown eyes blinking down at you like he’s observing a specimen. “I think I’m more than responsible enough.”

“Sure,” you relent, turning back around to shove your face into the corner of the couch and block out the incoming light. It’s the truth—you’re exhausted. A persistent weariness permeates your bones from how much you’ve been working these last few weeks. It’s not like it’s anyone’s fault in particular, not even Dazai’s despite how much he slacks on paperwork. But looming threats from enemy organizations hang over everyone’s heads and there’s no shortage of uncertainty in the Agency. It’s been mission after mission for you, and you’re taking every break you can get.

Rustling sounds from above you, but you pay it no mind, busying yourself with nestling all of your body into the crevices of the couch and hopefully turning into a piece of furniture yourself. It might be a more peaceful life, really. The calm is short-lived when you feel fingers tap along your cheek—not in a rousing gesture, but something along the lines of placating.

Dazai squeezes a hand beneath your head and cups the side of your face pressed against the couch, tilting it closer to him before you feel a warm press of lips against your cheek. He lingers. He always does. You can feel the gentle inhales and exhales breeze against your face before he breaks his kiss away. Your cheek is warm for more reasons than one.

“Take care of yourself,” and oh, god, you’ll never get used to this, never get used to how tender and soft he’s become with you, never get used to how this Agency has fostered something like kindness in both of you. Your stomach stirs with something unnamed and if you were braver, you’d blink your eyes open and reach up and grab the sides of his face and pull him down to you.

But you’re not brave, and there’s people still behind you in the office, and you wonder what led Dazai to be soft enough to kiss your face like that in front of everyone. You’re sure they’re watching you both. The Agency is full of gossips, whether they admit it or not.

===

“Dazai,” Ango Sakaguchi grits out from behind the crackling reception of a burner phone. “They were not a part of the plan.”

“You think I don’t know that, Ango?” Dazai replies, tone more playful than aggressive. “I know they’re not a part of the plan. They knew they weren’t part of the plan, too. But it’s too late to do anything about it. It’s just a minor change.”

“A minor change?” Ango’s voice is strained with stress, no doubt pulling out strands of his hair as they speak. “I have to deal with not one, but now two members of the mafia defecting. Do you know how much work this was to begin with?”

The thing is—of course Dazai knows. He knows everything. The minute he found you in his kitchen, his stomach dropped with the uncertainty of the future. Going underground with another person was nothing short of a burden, at least on paper. But, he couldn't find it in himself to think of you like that. Like a burden.

“We’ll figure it out, Ango. If you don’t, then we will.”

A gritty sigh sounds from the other side of the phone call. “I’m putting a lot of faith in you, Dazai. Don’t screw this up.”

===

“Made you lunch. Since, obviously, you’re not gonna do that for yourself any time soon.”

A closed plastic container is thrown on the counter in front of Dazai. He looks at it, then up at you, eyebrow raised as if he doesn’t have a clue what this could be about. He’s not that stupid, though. You of all people would know that.

“How nice of you! Too bad I’m not hungry.” His lip juts out in a poor imitation of a pout, and he looks ugly with it. So ugly. Ugly enough to make you feel the need to kiss him all over and then slap him. An incredulous huff escapes you.

“I don’t care if you’re hungry. Eat. It has crab in it, see, your favorite.”

“I thought my favorite was rice krispies?”

You freeze. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might remember that, after all this time. You don’t dwell, because that’s the worst thing to do with Osamu Dazai—dwell.

“Don’t act stupid. Just eat it. Even if it’s not the whole thing, at least some of it. It would do you some good.” Getting serious with Dazai is one of the most awkward, unbearable things you could ever do. He has a way of making you feel stupid for worrying about him, with all his roundabout jokes and skills of evasion built up over years. You’ve found that being straightforward is the best way to avoid all those blank moments of silence.

His fingers curl around the plastic lid and pop it open. The container is still warm, having cooked all its contents just half an hour before showing up at Dazai’s apartment with conviction in your eyes. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll have some.”

You bring out a duplicate container with a serving for you, and treat yourself to a juice box from his fridge. You try not to launch into a lecture at the sight of his barren pantry—that’s best done by Kunikida. The both of you eat in silence, sitting across from each other at Dazai’s dusty kitchen island.

He only gets through a few bites before pushing the container away and complaining about how full he is. You know it’s not the truth, but it’s the mixed-up signals that his body sends him. It’s not that he’s full, but his persistent lack of appetite has caused a lot of troubles for him in the past and you don’t doubt that it’ll keep causing troubles in the future, too.

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” you tell him, dragging him up from his chair despite his whining protests. “I won’t make you shower, but you should probably do that tomorrow, ‘cause your hair’s about to get all greasy and disgusting.”

“So crude.”

“I do my best.”

You let him change on his own, but not before picking out a nice soft set of matching pajamas from deep inside his closet. You grumble a little in annoyance. The set was a birthday gift you got for him a year ago and that asshole pushed it to the back of his wardrobe and never touched it again. What a brat. You throw a pair of fuzzy socks at him to boot.

Once he’s changed into proper sleep clothes, you can tell that the exhaustion is starting to hit him. He sways a little on his feet and his blinks last for a little too long, as if he’s chasing sleep every time his eyes shut. With another begrudging sigh, you set him down on the floor of the bathroom and dollop his toothbrush with fruity kid’s toothpaste—because of course that’s the only toothpaste he owns—and brush his teeth for him.

Dazai dozes off in the middle of it, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up in the most annoying way possible. You try really, really hard to not think about how soft you’ve gotten. You’re an ex-mafia member, past coated with dark stains and entrails and death, all of those dark things. Your blood is just as black as Dazai’s, if not more. And yet, being a part of this stupid Detective Agency with this stupid man has melted you down into something parallel to good.

Don’t dwell. It’ll do you no good.

You use a gentle grip with the toothbrush, ensuring that his delicate gums don’t tear with the force of the bristles. A warm feeling stirs in your chest. It feels like you’ve proven something, like you’ve proven to the world that your coal-stained hands can be gentle, too. You can kill and you can nurture. You tap Dazai awake with a little more care, now.

“Rinse your mouth,” you tell him in a whisper. “Then you can sleep.” And after a pause, you add, “I promise,” because now you’re in the business of making promises to people.

Dazai rinses his mouth, and you wipe off the remaining droplets of water from his face with a paper towel that you leave on the counter for your future self to throw out. You lace your fingers with his as you walk to his bed. Not that he needs any guiding. Of course he doesn’t. It’s just a little extra insurance, you think.

“Stay with me,” he mumbles out the minute you lay him down on the bed. It’s a sentence, and not a question, because he’d rather die than ask you something so vulnerable. He’s doing it again—peeling himself back and baring himself raw for you. Your head swims and your vision blurs with either a migraine or with tears, you can’t tell. But your lips quirk up into a stupid smile and he sees it despite his half-lidded eyes, and he smiles back like the stupid dope that he is.

“Yeah, of course. I’m right here, Osamu. Go to sleep.”

And he does. Of course, not before he feels you cup the opposite side of his face and plant a warm, lingering kiss on the swell of his cheek just as he did for you weeks before. The faint laugh that he lets out before he falls asleep is enough to tell you that he’ll be making fun of you for it in the morning. For now, though, he’s soft and pliant and warm between your hands, and you sleep.

#dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #osamu x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu fic #bungo stray dogs fic #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs x you #dazai osamu #i forgof how to tag hejkp me #openeing up comissions soon... maybne....#this was so fun to write like it lived in my brain for a week and i wrote a little bit every day #i had DAYDREAMS ABOUT THIS CONCEPT BRO LIKE

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slytherinshua · 2 months

Text

I'LL TAKE CARE OF YOU

genre. fluff. sick fic. warnings. reader is sick (fever, headache, nausea). food mention (soup). pairing. sungchan x fem!reader. wc. 754. request. requested by anon: currently dying atm... would live for sungchan taking care of me rn :( a/n. just me continuing to write sungchan as the most boyfriend material™️ to ever exist. also i swear im gonna be finishing those event drabbles soon i'm just sidetracking skdjks help.

“You need to eat, baby.” Sungchan coaxed, holding up a spoonful of soup for you.

“Don‘t want it.” You mumbled in response, close to tears at just the thought of eating anything.

You had felt nauseous almost all day, accompanied with a raging headache and a rising fever. Sungchan had dropped everything to come take care of you as soon as he heard you were feeling under the weather. You appreciated that you didn’t have to be alone in your misery, but you wished that your boyfriend would yield to your suggestion of just sleeping all day instead of taking medicine and food.

“It’s good for you. Come on, Y/n, please? Don’t make me have to do the airplane.” He held the bowl a little closer to you, hoping that the smell of fresh hot soup would persuade you. It did almost the opposite.

“Eating anything right now sounds like a nightmare, Sungie. Especially this soup…” You wrinkled your nose, trying not to breathe in any more of the aroma that on a normal day would make you salivate. Being sick was the worst.

Sungchan seemed to finally give up on the soup, placing the bowl and spoon down on the bedside table and slumping back to the side of the bed. He reached out for your hand, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles. Just the small gesture made you infinitely more sleepy than you already were. You would’ve just succumbed to the tiredness if Sungchan hadn’t opened his mouth to say something.

“You have to eat later, though. Okay? I can make you something else if you really hate the soup, but your body still needs nutrients.” He frowned at how exhausted you looked, even though you had done nothing but sleep and watch shows for the past day.

“I’ll try.” You closed your eyes again, considering the conversation done for now. You weren’t sure what Sungchan would do now. He had offered to cuddle with you many times, but you had outright refused each time he brought it up. You’d feel even worse if you got him sick, so you were trying to limit your contact as much as you could.

Plus, from prior experience, you knew Sungchan had the worst cases of man colds known to the universe. Taking care of him when he was sick was listening to him whine and complain 24/7. No matter how much you loved him— even when you had to take care of him— you would always prefer healthy Sungchan.

“You must be cold sleeping by yourself.” The words came almost as a whisper, and much closer to your ear than you anticipated. You were too tired to open your eyes again, but you could feel that Sungchan had gotten on the bed with you, laying behind you to spoon you, one hand on your waist pulling you closer to him.

“Go away, I don’t want you to catch it.” You said meekly. You and Sungchan both knew you wouldn’t fight for him to leave in your state, though.

“I want to nap with you. I’ll keep you warm.” He said softly. He shifted even closer to you so that he could plant a kiss on your shoulder. You could hear him giggle slightly and feel his warm breath hit your skin.

It felt nice. Even though your body probably felt hot to the touch, you had been freezing under 2 blankets all day. Nothing quite kept you as warm as Sungchan. His bordering on giant height and broad shoulders served their purpose in keeping you embraced completely; like your own personal heater in boyfriend form.

“You’ll get sick…” You mumbled one last time when you felt Sungchan start to press more kisses to your skin. You knew it would accomplish nothing. He was as stubborn as you were, and if it came down to it, he had at least 10 times the physical strength that you did, especially when sick.

“I don’t care.” He muttered, his kisses steadily trailing up towards your forehead. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, silently willing your headache to go away.

You were sure that there was no real way that his kisses could actually relieve the ache in your head, yet in your half-asleep state, you felt as if the pain almost completely went away the second his soft lips came in contact with your burning skin. With the comfort of Sungchan next to you, slipping away to your dreams felt easier than breathing.

↳ riize taglist: @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,, @seolboba,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @cosmicwintr,, @chiiyuuvv,, @evalevaeva,, @lecheugo

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watermelonlovershigh · 14 days

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Arguments and Confessions {part 2.} (housemate!harry series)

Period Cramps Are No Fun {part 1.} (housemate!harry series)

AN: so after writing part 1. to this, i knew i needed to continue it somewho and this is what i came up with. if you haven't read the previous part, please read that first but it's not mandatory to understand this one. just a recommendation. i hope you enjoy and yes i plan on writing a part three to continue this part as well. make sure to send me your feedback and how you enjoyed it. thank you and enjoy. xoxo

This story contains: smut, one-night stands, arguing (angst), confessions of feelings

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - soft!harry - au harry }

word count- 2,097

After not being able to take one more night of hearing you and your one-night stand have fun in your room, Harry angrily leaves until you're done which leads to apologizing and confessions the following morning.

Ever since your last period a few weeks ago where Harry had to help you in the middle of the night from the amount of pain your cramps were causing you, there has been this lingering tension in the house. You don't know if its from Harry having seen you in such a vulnerable position that night. Or maybe that moment where you could have sworn Harry was thinking of leaning down to kiss you after you shared your gratitude for what he'd done. Either way, the tensions are high and you hate it.

For instance, two Saturdays ago you went out to the club with some friends and end up bringing a guy back home. Harry didn't really care if you brought friends over or people over for a one-night stand as long as they left his stuff alone. That was until he caught feelings for you that you're unaware of.

Anyways, Harry was sat on the couch watching some television show with his cat Pixie in his lap when you came stumbling in the front door with a man by your side. Now you don't always bring home men. You don't sleep around too much but, you dabble here and there when you get just tipsy enough and you're in a desperate need of some real cock.

Harry looked up from the tv screen with an annoyed face. One you've never seen him portray before. Usually when you brought men home he smiled and joked, saying stuff like, "Be safe and make sure you have him wrap it up." Or, "Not too loud, kids. I've got work in the mornin'." Right then, if looks could kill, they would.

To try and have a good rest of your night, you didn't linger in worry over the look Harry gave you and dragged the man you met at the club to your room. Once the moans started, Harry stands from the couch, turning the tv off, and quickly went into his bedroom so he could bury himself under his covers to hopefully drowned out the sounds.

The only reason Harry never tells you to go to their house for the one-night stands is because he feels safer knowing you're here. He can hear if something was to go wrong and you needed help. Otherwise, he would tell you to go back to their house.

When you first moved into his house, Harry never had a problem with hearing moans come out of your room during your one-night stands. He'd drowned them out and move on to what he was doing. But the longer you lived here and the closer you got to one another, the more painful it is to bare. It physically makes him nauseous to think about how another man is making you feel good. Touching you. Fucking you just right. He wished upon anything that it was him.

Seeings as you brought a stranger home, you obviously don't feel the same about him. Or so he thinks. But in reality, you like Harry just as much as he likes you. And the only reason you have one-night stands is you're afraid to share your feelings to Harry because if he doesn't reciprocate, the tension in the house would be ten times worse and you'd probably have to move out. Which means you'd have nowhere to go because he's the cheapest option right now.

Little does Harry know though, everytime you bring a guy back home, as he's fucking you into the mattress, all you can picture is Harry. You picture that guys hands as Harry's hands. You picture that guys dick as Harry's dick. Even the guys face, you close your eyes and imagine it as Harry's perfect face. You're surprised you haven't moaned out Harry's name yet on accident. That would be embarrassing.

You have a feeling Harry doesn't like you in any other way other then just friends too because well, he also has frequent one-night stands over. He invites both men and women to his bedroom to enjoy for the night. You have to sit and suffer as you hear the moans that come out of his room. Just like Harry, when you first moved in it wasn't a big deal. But now, months after living here and the closer you get, the more painful it is.

You wish more than anything you were the people he had in his bed. The one he had under him, or, the one on top of him. Little did you know though for the past few months, every person Harry's slept with he imagines them as you. Whether he has a girl for the night or a boy. Especially when he sleeps with other women because well, you're a women so picturing her as you is easy. With a man it's not as easy but he still subconsciously pictures them as you.

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Currently it's Friday night and after meeting this very hot man at the bar and chatting it up, you decide to take him home with you. You know you should cool it down with all this sleeping around you've been doing recently but the more your feelings grow for Harry, the more you find yourself having one-night stands. Probably to try and ignore those underlying feelings you have towards your housemate.

As you enter the front door with an attractive man in your arms, giggling about something he whispered in your ear, you notice Harry in his usual spot on the couch. His cat Pixie in his lap. But something's different about him tonight. Usually he tiredly smiles at you and jokes around about the things you're about to go do in your bedroom.

Tonight though, he has a deep frown on his face and stands up quicker then you'd ever seen. Grabbing his keys out of the dish by the entryway, Harry spits in a sour tone, "Let me know when you're done, yeah. I'd rather not be here while you're getting fucked by some fuckin' stranger." With that, Harry's out the door in a flash and makes his way to his car in the driveway.

"What's his problem?" your one-night stand questions.

Standing there in shock at how Harry just reacted, you answer just as confused, "Um...... I.. I donno. Usually he's cool when I bring people home." Wanting to at least try and enjoy the rest of your night, you grab the man's arm and drag him towards your bedroom.

This is your first one-night stand that you can say was truly an awful experience. It wasn't so much the guys fault as it was your's. The whole time he was fucking you into the mattress, all you could think about was Harry and how him leaving like he did didn't sit right with you. You hate when people are mad at you and Harry's reaction made it seem like he was very angry with you tonight.

Towards the end of the sex, you became less wet and the sex became more painful. You just weren't turned on at all anymore. You should have told the man to stop but he looked like he was close to coming so you just laid there emotionless until he came in the condom. The man did attempt to make you come by rubbing on your clit but his technique was all wrong and his fingertips felt like dry sandpaper.

Once he pulls out, you stand up to put your clothes back on and as politely as possible request your one-night stand to leave. Most of the time you'll let them stay and you'll cuddle until you both fall asleep but tonight, you didn't want that.

The man leaves in a hurry and as soon as he's out the front door, you text Harry.

To Harry-

he's gone. you can come back home now. going to sleep. night.

From his car, Harry reads the message and makes his way back to his house. He didn't go far. He literally just drove around the neighborhood in circles until you were done. As he pulls back into the driveway, guilt floods his system. He should have never reacted that way. But he just couldn't bare another night of hearing your moans.

Funny thing is, though he now knows you own several sex toys and he assumes you use them from time to time, he's never once heard you masturbate. He'd almost rather hear you moaning from your vibrators then some duchy man.

Harry quietly opens the front door and wishes you weren't asleep right now. He wants to talk to you and properly apologize but he reckons it'll have to wait until morning. He turns all the lights out in the kitchen and living room before going into his bedroom and getting into bed. He hopes he can get at least a little sleep but as of now, his mind is wide awake from guilt and also coming to terms with the fact he actually does like you but not knowing when or if he should tell you that.

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The next morning you're up before Harry and decide to make some coffee. As you're pouring the dark liquid in your cup, Harry walks in the kitchen with a yawn. You turn around and notice how tired he looks. Like he didn't get much sleep last night. "Mornin'." he mutters while scratching his belly.

With a tight lipped smile, you reply, "Morning." to him as well.

Sitting down on a stool at his kitchen island, Harry begins, "Look, I want to apologize for how I acted last night. It was uncalled for. I...."

"No, I get it." you cut him off, "This is your house. I should ask before I bring people over. I just assumed since you've always been so cool about it before that you never had a problem with it. From now on I'll request to go to their house."

"Y/n, that's not it at all. And please don't go to a strangers house. I'd rather you did bring them here so at least I know you're safe when you have one-night stands. But, I'd rather you not have any at all."

Frowning, you bite back, "Then what is it, Harry? You don't want me going to their houses yet you dislike when I bring them here. I've gotta find pleasure somewhere since I don't have an actual boyfriend."

"Why not just use one of the many sex toys I know you have?" Harry comments without thinking and your eyes go wide.

"Wha...What? How do you know about those?"

Giggling arrogantly, he answers, "When you asked me to get you your pain medicine out of your bedside table drawer a few weeks ago. Seen three in there. Classic place to hide them, Y/n. Real classic."

Stuttering, you speak, "I..... I um, it's not the same, Harry! And I could say the same about you. Why don't you just use your hand instead of bringing people over, hm?"

"I use my hand and still bring people home, Y/n. I'm a horny guy. What can I say." You've never seen Harry be so cheeky with his remarks and it's kinda turning you on.

"Okay, so..... like why don't you get yourself a boyfriend or girlfriend?" you question curiously. Ever since living here with Harry he's never had a partner. Just random hook-ups here and there. From your more vulnerable talks, you know he's had partners in the past but he said they never lasted more than a few months and you didn't know the reason.

Breathing deeply, Harry nervously shifts in his seat before spilling, "Because I think I like someone and havin' a girlfriend or boyfriend would make me feel like I'm betraying them."

You notice how nervous Harry appears now. His chest heaves more as he inhales larger breaths. His hands fiddle with the one ring he has on his middle finger. His legs are bobbing up and down. You're scared to ask your next question because depending on his answer, you could get your heart broken.

"Who do you like, Harry?"

"Um..." he starts, "well, she has brown hair and hazel eyes. Very beautiful hazel eyes. Perfect pink lips and an amazing body. She's about 5'5 in height and loves watchin' rom coms on my couch."

Harry is literally describing you but you don't want to assume. Because if it wasn't you, you'd be so embarrassed you guessed yourself. "By chance, what's her name?"

Looking deeply in your eyes, Harry answers clearly, "Her name..... her name is Y/n."

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

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My Masterlist Masterpost

Friends Who Share Mutual Emotions {part 3.} (housemate!harry series)

#harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles series #housemate!harry #housematerry #softrry #soft!harry #friendrry #friend!harry #friends to lovers trope #housemates to lovers trope #harry x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #angst #one shot

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probably-writing-x · 8 months

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Questioning.

Summary: Hi!Love love love your writing🫶🏻🫶🏻Could you write some angst?Like where reader and Conrad argue maybe? Have a good day❣️

You weren’t sure when the irritation had started today. It was just… one of those days. You’d woken up and there was no milk left for your coffee, and the last slice of bread had been eaten. The toothpaste was running low, too, and you had to squeeze the last remains out of it. Nobody had bothered to go to the store yet and your car was blocked in by Jere on the driveway. Someone else had already put their clothes into the laundry but hadn’t bothered to turn the machine on, and you were certain not a single person in this house would ever decide to empty the dishwasher. It was just the little things, and they were irritating when you were living in a house of this many people.

Perhaps it wasn’t any of those things causing the issue. They were just ways of you avoiding what was really stressing you. Last night, Conrad, you and the others had been at a party. You’d left early with Belly when she’d had too much to drink and the boys had stayed. It was just a party at the beach, nothing crazy, but you’d woken up to a text this morning that had turned your stomach sick.

Hey girl! Feel like I need to be honest with you, Conrad was all over Nicole last night. I’d want to know if I were you.

I’m pretty sure I saw them kiss.

Even thinking of the words again made you nauseous, they were rotating over and over in your head. All over her.

“Hey babe,” Conrad speaks softly as he comes downstairs, swinging an arm around the bannister as he turns into the kitchen.

“Hey,” You glance up, trying to scrub a stain out of the countertop.

You couldn’t look at him, too fearful that you’d break down into tears right then and there.

He comes behind you and wraps his arms around your torso. You force yourself to not tense up under his touch, letting out a shaky breath before you say;

“I need you to go to the store,” You comment.

You feel his arms slip from you, “What?”

“Jere’s boxed my car in so I can’t go but we need a whole bunch of stuff. I’ve made a list so I’ll send it to you and-“

“Good morning to you too,” Conrad practically grimaces, stepping back to lean against the counter.

“Sorry, Con, but we’ve got stuff to do today. Susannah and Laurel will be back tomorrow and you know they’ll hate it if the house is in a state.”

“I think they’ll just be glad we didn’t burn the place down,” He scoffs, crossing his arms over his torso.

You turn around and set down the cloth in your hand, wiping your hands. He raises his eyebrows at you like he’s waiting for something so you step forward and stretch up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Please,” You smile.

He narrows his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips, so you kiss him again. This was normal. This was him. The boy that would never hurt you.

“Alright fine,” He agrees, opening up his arms to place them around your waist, “If you insist, your royal highness.”

“Thank you,” You force yourself to smile again, “I’ll send you the list, I’m going to clean the bathroom whilst you’re gone and then-“

“And then when I’m back we can actually enjoy our day? No more stress cleaning,” He encourages, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

“Okay.”

He leans down and kisses your jaw, once twice three times before stepping away from you to grab his keys. He’d never hurt you. This boy would never hurt you.

“Send me that list!” He calls back to you, disappearing around the corner.

It was all fine, right?

———

Conrad gets back an hour later, carrying in bags and bags of groceries all exactly from your list. You help him put them away and then start busying yourself with tidying up the lounge.

“(Y/n) come on, we’re going surfing,” Conrad encourages, reaching out his hand to you from where he was laying on the couch.

“I don’t-“ You clear your throat, looking away from him, “I don’t really feel like it today.”

He pushes himself up onto his elbows, “Come on, you agreed you’d be done after I got back. The other three are capable of helping too, you know? Just tell Jere to clean.”

You glance at him and quickly glance away. You couldn’t get the words out of your head, as much as you’d tried to avoid them. Everything felt so normal this morning, but it was becoming impossible to convince yourself that it couldn’t be true.

“I-“ You shake your head, tears brimming at your eyes when you look at him, “I can’t today.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” He sits up fully, “What’s going on?”

You let out a shaky breath and shake your head again, “Sorry I just… um… I think there’s dust in my eye or something.”

You hurry off into the nearest bathroom and lock the door behind you, leaning back against the locked door. You can’t fight off the tears at your eyes anymore as they start to trickle down at the corners. In the moment, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, your eyes glazed over and your lip quivering with each exhale.

When you and Conrad first got together, you’d always thought he was too good for you. You knew who he’d been with before you, and you didn’t feel anything like them. You weren’t one of the country club girls, not one of the girls who’d throw themselves at him if he gave them the chance. You just fell in love and he did too. And, as much as he reassured you that you were blind to think he was too good for you, there was always just this little piece biting at you every time you thought about it for too long. Would you ever think you were good enough for him?

You walk over to the sink and look closer at yourself in the mirror, dragging your fingers under both of your eyes to wipe away the remaining tears. Your eyes looked a little red now and your cheeks felt puffy but you ignore it, drawing your shoulders back before walking back out of the bathroom.

Your steps come to a halt when you almost bump into Conrad, stood only a metre from the door.

“(Y/n) why has Shayla just texted you?” He holds your phone out towards you, “And why does it-“

“You looked through my phone?” You question, snatching it back from him.

He scoffs, “It came up on your lockscreen, okay? I didn’t think anything of it. Until I see that it’s Shayla and she’s telling you ‘Id be worried if I were you’.”

You look down at the screen and see the message still sitting there waiting to be read. She’d be worried. Should you be?

You look back up at him, “Well, should I be?”

“Should you what?”

“Should I be worried, Con?” You return, trying to avoid the tremor in your words.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what, forget it, I shouldn’t have said anything,” You shake your head, pushing past him to walk down the corridor.

He hurries after you and his hand reaches out to grab your arm, turning you around, “No, talk to me (y/n). Why did Shayla text you that?”

As you turn around, it doesn’t feel like the same Conrad looking back at you, but it only lasts for a second. His face is so full of worry you’re sure he could break there and then.

“Wh-“ You stop yourself, “What happened after I left last night? At the party, what happened?”

He frowns, his eyes looking between each of yours, “What are you talking about?”

“Tell me what happened.”

He blinks like he’s completely lost but continues, “Okay, you left with Belly. We got a few more drinks, Steven rang Taylor, Jere saw this guy he hooked up with last summer, the keg ran out and it got cold, we walked home.”

You purse your lips together, “Nothing else?”

“(Y/n) if you think something happened I’d rather you just say it because I can’t think of a-“

“Were you with Nicole?”

He raises his brows, “Nicole?” He practically scoffs over her name, “You can’t be serious.”

“Answer the question, Conrad.”

“Okay, yes, I saw her there,” He shrugs, “I didn’t realise that was an important part of the story, I saw her, we said hello, I didn’t see her for the rest of the night.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and pull out your phone with shaking hands, unlocking it and pushing it into his hands, “That’s not what it seemed like to Shayla.”

His eyes scan quickly to read the message and you watch his shoulders drop.

“Is it true?” You ask shakily, tears brewing once again.

“(Y/n)…”

For a second, you’re convinced he’s going to admit to everything and you’re going to feel your heart break beyond words.

“Is this really what you think of me?”

You stop before speaking again, “Conrad I woke up this morning to that text and I-“

“And you believed it?” He half laughs over the word.

“Why wouldn’t I believe it Conrad?” You exclaim, your words catching in your throat.

Conrad pauses.

“I know how things were when you were with Nicole. They were easy and fun and you didn’t have to think about anything. I’m not like that,” You shake your head, biting your lip to stop it from trembling, “I know I’m not who people expect you to be with and I know this isn’t… I just know that people see you with Nicole and they think that’s who it should be, not me.”

“(Y/n),” He looks at you so strongly you’re sure you could crumble, “I chose you. I chose this. And I still choose this. Every single fucking day I choose this. Why can’t you see that?”

“I just… I can’t get the thought of you and her out of my head.”

He laughs, “There is no me and her! There was no me and her last night! But if this is what you think of me (Y/n) then this is a really sad conversation.”

Before you can speak, he swallows the lump in his throat and walks past you, his shoulder bumping yours. You listen to his footsteps receding until the door slams and he’s gone.

Without another thought, every emotion spills from you, dropping to the floor as you sob.

In seconds, the bedroom door opens and Jere and Belly step out, both of them crouching down to wrap you in their arms, holding onto you as much as they were holding you up.

———

You leave the house almost an hour later, forcing yourself out of bed and down towards the short walk to the beach. On your way, you’re already certain that that’s where he’ll be. The place that made him think more clearly. The place where he’d first kissed you.

As you expect, Conrad’s sat just a little way down on the sand, his knees at his chest and his arms draped over them, a burgundy hoodie wrapped around him.

You sit down without a word and his eyes look up from the sea to watch as you do so, following you down until you’re beside him.

Both of you are silent, neither of you willing to break that just yet.

“I’m sorry Con,” You exhale, “I shouldn’t have just jumped to conclusions.”

He shakes his head, looking out at the moving sea, “I should be apologising.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” You feel the lump form in your throat, as if part of you is so sure he’s about to admit to your worst nightmare.

“I would never cheat on you (Y/n). I’d never even think about looking at another girl like that,” He explains, “But if I’ve made you feel like there’s even the slightest possibility that that’s something I’m capable of, then I’m doing something wrong. Because you shouldn’t feel like that. And you shouldn’t have felt like that today.”

“Con it’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault,” He returns, “Why do you think I would cheat on you?”

You take a deep breath, reaching out to take his hand into yours, watching him visibly relax at the contact, “I love you Connie, and I always have, and you’ve made me feel loved since the first day you kissed me and every day since. But, even with us together, there’s always this part of me that’s so sure I’m just… not enough. And that one day you’ll realise that too. And that’s not you, or Shayla or Nicole or anyone that’s causing that, it’s just me.”

“But (Y/n) I-“

“I know,” You squeeze his hands, “I know you might think it’s stupid and you might think you need to be doing more but it’s just… sometimes it’s hard to believe that you feel that way about me.”

He shifts in his spot so that he’s facing you, reaching both of his hands out to cup your face, “I love you, (Y/n) (Y/l/n). And I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll spend the rest of my life if it takes that long for you to be sure of that. Do you understand me?”

You let out a laugh and tears prick at the sides of your eyes, his thumbs shifting instantly to catch the tears as they fall.

“Now how could I not love you?” He grins, leaning in until his forehead presses against yours.

You rest there for a while, as if you’re breathing in every ounce of love he can offer you, letting out an exhale of every worry of the day.

“Do I love you?” Conrad raises his eyebrows.

You giggle, “You love me.”

#tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #conrad x reader #conrad x you #conrad x y/n #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x y/n #tsitp imagine #tsitp one shot #tsitp drabble #tsitp blurb #tsitp request #conrad imagine #conrad one shot #conrad drabble #conrad blurb #conrad request

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starrycassi · 8 months

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Ballister's been through this many times. Ambrosius comes into his room, hysterical, to announce him of some ridiculous upper crust rule or ball or challenge that he's got to participate in. He knows the drill by now; listen to him, reassure him and help him get ready, be it brushing his hair or co-writing a speech for him to give.

The Goldenloin family puts up an act for people to show off Ambrosius and his many qualities every so often. He doesn't really care, not anymore. He used to panic alongside Ambrosius, when they were thirteen. He's seventeen, now, and the novelty of it has worn off — it's just kind of funny, really, to see his boyfriend suffer through hours and hours of whatever bullshit he's supposed to do now.

This upcoming event, however, is doing a number on Ambrosius's nerves. He's pacing back and forth the room, and he hasn't even looked at Ballister yet. His tic — the one in his left eye, is back, and his lips are red and swollen in the places where he's been bitting them. It's barely five am, and Ballister knows that this is going to be a long day.

"You're going to get nauseous if you keep spinning around, Amber" he tries to start the conversation, voice soft and words slow. Between them, Ambrosius has always been the worst when it comes to keeping his emotions under control. Ballister's learnt, by now, that sometimes it's just better to give him space.

"I'm nauseous already. Some spinning won't hurt, I'm sure" he snaps back, almost screaming. Ballister decides that talking to him won't be possible right now, and goes back to the project on his table, making sure to hold the screwdriver at the right angle.

After fifteen minutes or so, Ambrosius finally stops. He whines, letting his body weight drag him down on Ballister's mattress.

"What is it, this time?"

Ambrosius's silent, only whining a bit more after the question, like a wounded dog. That's new. He usually loves to go on rants about how everything is going to go wrong and how the whole world hates him in secret. Ballister puts down the tools, quickly scribbles down what he's supposed to do next to avoid future mistakes, and sits down next to his boyfriend, threading a hand through the other teen's hair.

They stay like that some minutes, Ballister working his way through the blond strands and Ambrosius simply lying there. Ballister's starting to think that he's fallen asleep, when Ambrosius finally speaks up, face still buried in pillows.

"They're marrying me off, Bal"

The world stops spinning.

Ballister goes static. His whole body freezes, and his heart stops beating. He can feel the blood on his veins going cold, so cold his bones feel stuck, too.

This was a expected situation, kind of. Captain Gloria, Ambrosius's mom, had been married off, too. She didn't like her husband in the slightest and they never talked to each other. Ambrosius told him all that.

She had also promised to keep her son away from that predicament. But Ballister knew better than to trust mothers. His own had abandoned him some years ago, after all.

"What... How? What?"

Ambrosius sits up, criss cross, hugging a pillow. He's such a kid. His eyes are already watery, and he's got a red nose, probably from slamming his face into the pillows.

"Not- well, not actually marrying me off. Mum doesn't want that, y'know" He shrugs, looking at his own hands. "But she can't really... just go against tradition, I guess. So, uh, there's going to be a tournament, figths, you know? And I know I'll probably win, she chose combat because she knows I'm good at it, but what if I don't win?"

He takes a deep breath, grunting. Ballister's brain is struggling to catch up, so he can't do much more than nod, encouraging his boyfriend to keep talking.

"It's not going to be like here, only us, cadets and students, where I know I will undoubtedly win. Actual grown ups could get in there, Ballister. My mom's been screaming to anyone and everyone about how ridiculous everything is, but- I guess rules are rules. I haven't slept. We stayed up all night on the phone, she tore down the whole family's library, called all of our lawyers, we tried every single article and law ever written. Nothing. The best we can do is... hope"

"The Captain's right. This is ridiculous, Ambrosius. What do you mean grown ups? Why? That's fucking creepy. Can't you guys just... say no? You're a Goldenloin, surely you-"

Ambrosius grunts, again, tugging at one of his hair strands.

"It's not that easy!" He screams, shutting Ballister up. "I've been getting proposals for... for forever! It's not really a matter of love as it is a matter of money, Bal. I've been getting proposals even from before I was actually born. Political alliances and all that. Mom's been doing her best, I know she has, but when a heir has said "no" enough times, then a duel or something can be called up, and an actual tournament would be way easier than just fighting every single idiot that wants to get my last name!"

Ballister's never been happier to be an orphan commoner than right now. His only worry when it comes to marriage is whether or not he can afford a pretty ring.

It's not like commoners don't marry for money. Arranged marriages were a pretty common thing around him, young kids marrying older people to try and get their families ahead, forced by their parents, their "spouses" or their economical situations. He just... never really had to worry about it, ever since he became a knight.

"That's incredibly fucked up, Ambrosius"

"I know ! I am well aware of how weird this must be for you, Bal. And I have absolutely no backup plan. My mom's confident that I'm winning, because Goldenloins never lose, but I'm not her! She can still beat me when we spar together, what am I going to do if someone else wins? Just... get married?"

Trying to come up with a solution, Ballister stutters and stammers his way through a sentence.

"You could, uh, get married and have a divorce, right?"

"No! Totally no! You don't get it! Whoever wins gets to ask whatever they want from my family, money, land, my hand- whatever, and then that's irrevocable!"

Stressed out, Ballister screechs. Of course he doesn't get it. No one ever bothered to explain this to him. He knew that parents could force their kids to marry (Captain Gloria once told him the story, very drunk and very mad at her departed dad) but not that a whole fucking event could be staged even if the family said no.

"It's not my fault I don't get it, you twat! Do you think the knigth training automatically gave me political marriage bullshit training, too? Well, no, it didn't! I'm so sorry for not knowing you weird ass nobility traditions, Ambrosius, I didn't realize I was supposed to!"

Getting up from the bed, mad at the world for being unfair and at himself for snapping, he runs his hands through his hair, with the impulse to simply rip it all off. It quickly gets replaced by guilt. Ambrosius has done nothing wrong, and here he is, being an asshole instead of helping.

"Amber... Shit, I'm sorry. This is just-"

Chuckling humorlessly, Ambrosius waves his hand in the air. He looks up at Ballister, and shakes his head.

"You're right. Sorry. I just forgot. I always do"

They already went through this, too. Ambrosius is good at keeping Ballister up to date, always happy to explain the situation, but sometimes things just... slip his mind. It isn't anyone's fault, but it's still annoying when it happens.

"Sorry, too. For calling you a twat"

Ballister leans down, tentatively. Ambrosius doesn't hesitate to lift himself up, and they share a quick kiss. All is forgiven.

"So... what now?"

Silently, they both try their best to think. Ballister's mind is blank, just screaming at him to get a sword and go decapitate however wrote the fuckin rules. He ignores that voice, per usual. The fucker's probably dead, by now, anyway.

Ambrosius is the one who gasps, and smiles all of the sudden, so bright that the sun should be jealous. He bounces on the bed a couple of times, clapping to get his boyfriend's attention.

"We're both idiots!"

Ballister frowns, confused. An awkward smile is all he can offer Ambrosius, wondering if his man finally went crazy.

"I see no correlation between our supposed idiocy and the problem at hand, Amber."

"Come on, Bal! This is easy. I have the best plan" he giggles, like a kid that just got a new toy. Ballister can tell that this plan probably will suck and get them in more danger than necessary. And he's so on board. Always on board, when it comes to Ambrosius.

"Which is?"

"You!" Exclaims Ambrosius, rolling his eyes. "You're my plan"

"Excuse me?"

"You're going to compete and win, Bal"

Perhaps he never should've become a knight, that way he never would've fallen in love with this absolute trainwreck of a man. Is it too late to go back to being a random kid and forget about all this? Probably.

#goldenheart #nimona movie #ballister nimona #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister boldheart #nimona (2023)#ambrosius nimona #ambrosius x ballister #nimona #ballister blackheart #i should be doing homework #forced marriaged but he's trying to save his boyfriend from it #tournament au

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bookshelf-dust · 9 months

Text

pouring out the sun

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 6,988

warnings: swearing, chubby!reader, reader deals with specific body insecurities, swimsuit wearing, brief mention of blood?, post-starcourt billy, slight sexual innuendos (let me know if i missed anything)

a/n: well, um, it’s been a little over a month since you got a fic from me. i took a break from writing, but my mental health only got worse, so clearly it didn’t work too well. this fic was meant to be a way for me to work through some things, so beware of that. i thought maybe someone else might need it too, or might even understand, in some way. i know i don’t usually do specifics regarding reader, but this is really for me. also, the title is a reference to the song of achilles, but it seemed fitting. i hope this turned out okay. i know it’s a lot, but it’s something. <33

————

The wall behind you is starting to make your back ache. The chill you’d felt through your shirt when you’d first situated yourself against it is long gone. You pull your knees up as close as you can get them and wrap your arms around your calves.

Billy has pressed himself into the footboard of your bed. He’s staring at you and your obstinance makes you stare right back. He crosses his arms, and your gaze flickers to the way his biceps shift with the movement. He’d tease you if he weren't so determined to challenge your stubbornness with his own.

“How long?” you question, pressing your cheek into the skin of your knee and letting your eyes flutter closed.

“A week. Maybe two,” he answers.

You scoff and roll your neck so that your forehead can take the place of your cheek. “Oh, holy shit,” you say, voice muffled by your legs. “Yeah, that’s a no.”

Billy rolls his eyes, and even if you can’t see him, you can feel it. He runs a hand down his face. You have your moments, where you can be incredibly difficult, but this is something different. It’s almost like you’re frustrated in some way, and it frustrates Billy that he can’t pinpoint why.

“You sound like Harrington.” He pushes off the bed and lands a playful slap to the side of your calf before walking out of the room, hoping a bit of pacing might help him figure out what to do.

Billy has wanted to go back to California since he got to Hawkins, though now he seems to be content with a simple vacation, rather than being in a rush to move back. When he brought it up again today, telling you firmly that he is going, you thought it sounded lovely. That it’d be good for him, that maybe he’d take Max and they’d do some family bonding or something. But that’s not what he’d said.

He wants you to go with him.

And you hate the beach. With a burning, fiery passion.

Despite this, there’s a voice in the back of your head that tells you you’ll end up going anyway–just for him. But right now, the idea of going to California makes you nauseous.

Sitting in a hot car for the length of that trip, sweating your ass off, baking in the sun, being trapped on the beach for hours? What’s so fun about all of that? And then there’s the matter of a swimsuit. Billy has certainly never seen you in one, and he definitely doesn’t know that you got rid of the ones that were once in your possession.

He traipses back into the room, making you look up. It’s as if he’s somehow sensed that you were lost in thought, that you were being unkind to yourself. He doesn’t like it when you shit on his girl.

“Look,” Billy starts, leaning against the doorframe. “If you really don’t want to go, I’m not gonna force you or anything.”

He pauses, and you slide further down the wall until your back rests firmly against the mattress. You force yourself to make eye contact with him–only for a moment.

“I just thought it might be nice to have you with me. I wanted to take you home.” His mouth tips up in a grin at that last bit. He’s guilt tripping you.

“Goddamnit, William.” You slap your hands over your eyes, shielding yourself from him like he might up and turn you to stone. You’ve never fancied being a garden statue.

“I just…I don’t know, Billy. There’s a lot for me to think about.” You pull your hands back and his face is inches from yours. It makes you jump, but makes his mouth twist into a Cheshire cat grin. Contrary to the way his boots usually announce his presence, he’s partial to moving like a cat when no one else is around. “Jesus.”

He presses his palms into the bed on either side of you and sits so that his thighs bracket your own. This way you can’t run when he asks you why you’re so insistent about not going to California with him.

“You mean there’s a lot for you to overthink about.” His hands find your sides, thumbs sweeping over the soft of your belly. Your mind jumps to the pudge you know lies underneath your shirt, the very thing that prevents you from wearing the teeny bikinis Heather Holloway runs around in. Right now you can’t bear to have him touch you, and you push his hands off.

You give him an agitated look, and again that feeling, that he can’t quite pinpoint what’s going on, crawls up Billy’s abdomen and prods at his throat. “What? Like that’s not what you were doing when I came back in here?”

He goes to rest his hands on your thighs, the bare skin calling to him, skin he wants to grasp, knowing how pliant it will be, how it might move under his fingertips, but he stops himself. He thinks that you’ll just push him off again, so he settles for planting them back against the mattress, though close enough that he can feel the warmth of you–close enough that you’re still tangible.

You sigh. He mocks the sound, pitching his voice up just that little bit higher. You cover your face with your palms once more.

“Look,” Billy starts, “I’ll take care of everything. There’s really nothing for you to worry about. You know I’ve been saving for this since I got here.”

You nod behind your hands, and Billy recognizes it as a gesture you make when you’re about to cry. He swears his heart drops out of his ass.

“Hey, hey, hey–what’s going on in there?” He pulls at your wrists, a gentle grip, but more than enough to be firm. You let him move your hands away, and he sets them on your belly, but even that seems to be wrong. You’re quick to remove them, not being able to stand the squish of your own flesh.

You aren’t crying, but your eyes are a little glassy. Billy thinks whatever tears might’ve been about to spill, you’ve willed away. You inhale.

“Billy, I can’t just go to the beach.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t look like you.”

If you could manage to look at him, you’d see the way Billy’s brows meet, maybe even catch the way his breath hitches in his throat. He connects the dots, all at once. Suddenly he knows what you mean.

Last summer, when you were still just friends, you’d come and eat lunch with him on his break. But never once did you actually go swimming, always just taking off when he had to continue his shift. Billy had secretly hoped you’d stay and lounge, at least, during one of the many times you dropped Max or Dustin off. You never did.

He’s not even sure he ever saw you in something other than jeans then. Hell, you’re wearing shorts right now, in the comfort of your own home, but you don’t ever leave the house in them. Why hadn’t he seen it before? Why hadn’t the thought at least occurred to him?

He thinks about all the times you avoid mirrors, or looking at other people. How you never want to go shopping, how all of your clothes are just that little bit too big. He realizes it’s serving you a purpose. You’re trying to hide–from Hawkins, from him, from yourself.

Billy feels like he’s been punched, or maybe like someone’s poured ice water down the back of his shirt. Still he teases. He needs to.

“Well, contrary to popular belief, I'm really not that into myself. So I’m actually pretty damn grateful that you don’t look like me.”

He tracks your shaky inhale. The teasing has failed him, and he doesn’t want to see you cry.

Billy moves off of your lap in hopes that it might help pull you out of your head for a moment. “You wanna talk to me?” he ventures. You sit up, nodding. The movement allows the tears you’d been holding back to slip free, gliding down the apples of your cheeks.

Billy’s thumbs are against your skin in a moment, wiping them away. “Yeah?” He reciprocates your nod, more reassuring, supportive, than mocking. Billy holds out his hand for you to take. You bring it into your lap, tracing the many creases on his palm. It gives you something steady to focus on, grounds you enough that you can concentrate on getting your words out.

“I know it’s stupid,” you mumble, voice thick with emotion. Billy flicks his fingers upward to tickle your own, and it gets your lips to tick up just that little bit.

“It’s not stupid,” he says, tone dead serious. “What’s that shit you always tell me?” He raises his other hand, waving it around. “This is a safe space to share your feelings.” He says the words playfully, as if it might pain him, though he’s just trying to help you like you do for him. Your heart warms at the effort.

“It’s my body, Billy. I can’t just go to the beach because the beach means a swimsuit, it means people seeing me in a swimsuit, you seeing me, but I can’t wear one, and I—” You pause, drawing in a breath. Your eyes squeeze shut for just a second, another tear falling down, but you catch it before he can.

“I hate my body, okay? And I love that you want to take me with you to California, really it means so much to me, but I-I know that means tagging along with you, being out in hot weather, and I’m just going to ruin it all for you looking like this. Really you should be taking someone else. Someone who can maybe put on clothes without sobbing.”

When you finish and look up at him, Billy looks heartbroken. It immediately makes you want to take it all back. You never meant to tell him any of this.

“You sob when you have to get dressed?” he asks, almost tentatively. The way he says it tells you he’s not picking on you, but instead trying to understand. He’s picturing it, you struggling to simply get ready for the day, and it kills him. You shouldn’t have to feel that way.

“I have before, yeah. And Billy you’re hot. I know you know that. You should be with someone who’s equally as attractive. Not someone like me.”

You hiccup and release Billy’s hand. You start playing with a string on the hem of your worn-out shorts. Billy’s thumb finds your forearm, dragging up to press against the inside of your elbow. “Baby.”

You shake your head, forcing a sad smile to form on your face. “It’s alright. I told you it was silly.”

“Are you shitting me right now?” His grip tightens ever so slightly. He’s begging for you to listen to him without ever saying so. You meet his eyes, and he’s looking at you with so much concern, so much love, that you wish you hadn’t looked at all. This isn’t silly. Not to him.

“What is it about your body that you don’t like? Can you tell me that much?”

More understanding. More compassion. You can’t take it.

You bite the inside of your lip so hard that you draw blood. You press your tongue against the spot, hoping it will stop. You’re getting angry with yourself. For making this situation about you, for telling him about your stupid feelings, for thinking that you could ever make this work when clearly you’re not meant to even be in a relationship, especially not with him, and definitely not when you look like this–

“Stop. Take a deep breath, and talk to me.” Billy’s tone is unyielding. You’re working this out right now, and he’s made that decision for you. He knows if you don’t, you’ll just shove it right back under the rug and keep fighting this internal battle with yourself all while he’s right here.

You do as he said, and start again.

“I don’t like my tummy, or my hips, o-or my boobs. My arms are wrong too, and I’ve got all these rolls, and nothing is shaped right. I hate everything, and I can’t even look in the mirror anymore, and I want to go on this trip with you, really I do, but all of this is overwhelming me, and I-I’m just going to ruin it for you.”

“Look at me,” Billy says. You hadn’t even noticed you’d stopped, eyes glued to your bedsheets. You start crying again, warm tears spilling over your lashes. You can’t get them to stop, can’t get your thoughts to stop. It makes you want to press your hands to your ears, like that would help, but really it’s just you. You in your own head.

Billy takes your face in his hands. “There is nothing wrong with your body. This is just your mind fuckin’ with you. I know that every part of you is perfect, just as it is, and you don’t have to look like anyone else to be good enough.”

You shake your head and grab hold of his wrists. “See, but you can’t really say that. You don’t actually know what my body looks like because I don’t have it in me to let you see it. I know that if you did, you’d be grossed out, Billy. There’s so much fat, and pudge, and I–”

“Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing? Because it isn’t and I don’t wanna hear you say that again, you understand?” You sniffle. He takes that as a yes.

“Baby, I know I haven’t seen shit. But I fucking swear that I’d be a goner for it. You think I mind having a little extra to squeeze on? ‘Cause I don’t.”

You’re trying so hard to believe him, but every cell, every nerve in your body is screaming in protest. He’s lying. He’s lying, he’s lying, he’s lying. But there’s a part of your brain that knows he isn’t. That he wouldn’t dare lie to you.

“My body is…it’s disappointing.” You sit up on your knees and wipe your nose. “Because I-I know what the world wants me to look like, and I don’t look like that.” You squeeze your eyes shut, and more tears slip out. He can’t stand to see you like this, and it’s killing him to know that this is what you’ve been dealing with for who knows how long.

“It’s not fair,” you cry. “It’s not fair because I don’t get to walk around with this amazing body, the kind of body that men clearly want, and I think now I want it too. I sit in my room at night and I think about how I’d love myself more if I had a different body.”

Now that the floodgates have opened, you can’t force them closed.

“Because I don’t have porn star tits, Billy. They’re sad looking, and they definitely don’t look like the chick’s on your bedroom wall, or the ones in your bedside drawer.

He lets out a scoff of a laugh. It’s not malicious, not even at all. It’s simply due to the fact that your mind, and the world around you, has led you to hating the body you were given. He laughs because he agrees with you that it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that you’re feeling like this. But he has to make sure you recognize that you can’t compare yourself to fucking models.

“You know all of their tits are fake, right? Or strapped in somehow to get ‘em that high.”

You rub your nose, drag a hand down your throat. “Well, yeah but I’m sure there are lots of other women around here with better boobs than me. I know you like boobs, Billy. And mine are gross.”

“Yeah, that’s bullshit. They aren’t gross, and you shouldn’t talk about your girls like that.” He holds up a finger to prevent you from fussing about that comment. “I don’t care if they’re a little droopy or if they aren’t these round balloons, or if they aren’t porn star tits, or whatever it is about them you don’t like. And I know it’s only because you’ve been comparing your tits with some stranger’s, and that’s bullshit too.” You stare at Billy blankly, but he’s still not done.

“I wouldn’t care about any of those things. Because they’re your boobies, and that makes them my favorites.”

“Please don’t say boobies, Billy.” He grins and leans in until his mouth hovers above the shell of your ear.

“And I always end up thinkin’ about you anyway.” Your face starts to burn and you fight the urge to abort right then and there. “Not even Elvira can keep me from thinking about you, baby.”

Your face is burning. “What is wrong with you?”

“Oh, there’s a lot wrong with me,” he says, rubbing his nose against yours. “But there’s not a damn thing wrong with your body, and I’m gonna be right here until you think the same.” He gives you one chaste kiss and pulls back.

“But Billy, my ass is–”

“Amazing? I’ve seen it in those jeans you wear all the time. Shit is mind boggling, baby.”

“Jesus fucking christ.”

His giggles taper out, and then he’s looking at you all gently again, like you’re the most precious thing in the entire goddamn universe. “You gotta quit comparing yourself to other people, okay? Doesn’t do you any good, and I know that. This is the only body you’re gonna get, and you deserve to love on it a little.”

You run your hands down your face. “I just wish I believed that.”

Billy leans down and smacks a kiss to your knee.

“Hate seein’ you like this, you know? You’re the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. The way you’re told you should look? It’s all idealized and stereotypical bullshit, and it isn’t fair for you to look at yourself and pick every little thing apart because it doesn’t look like some chick in a porno mag or a comic book drawn by some horny, middle-aged man.”

He’s fired up now, genuinely hurting for you, and he’s talking with his hands. That gets you every time.

You might be snotty, your cheeks might feel tight from where the tears have dried, but seeing him be so passionate about making you feel better gets a little grin out of you.

Billy catches it, that itty bitty quirk of your lips, and he moves in until his face is inches from yours. It’s supposed to be intimidating.

“The fuck are you grinning about?”

Your grin turns into a full, teary smile.

“You expecting a kiss or something?” he teases, thumb dragging over your lashes, separating them where they’d clumped together with moisture.

“I was gonna give you one, actually.” Your eyes start to prickle again. “Because I don’t deserve you—”

Billy covers your mouth with his hand. “Listen, if there’s anyone who doesn’t deserve someone, it’s me—”

You do the same to him in an instant, only he smacks his lips against your palm, winking just for good measure. You roll your eyes.

Both of you remove your hands at the same time, and then you really do kiss him. A sweet press of your mouth that tells him…everything.

You pull away, and he’s still looking at you like you hung the fucking stars.

“I’m sorry for keeping all of this in, Billy. It’s so suffocating sometimes, and I get so angry with myself for looking like this. I just imagine that I’d be so much happier with someone else’s body.”

“But if you had someone else’s body, you wouldn’t be you anymore. You wouldn’t be my girl.”

You nod, trying not to let the voices win. Trying not to think about how you look in the mirror versus how you wish you looked. How if you had different features it might be better.

“Just can’t help thinkin’ you should be with someone that looks nicer than I do.”

“But I want you, okay? I love you exactly the way that you are.”

“Okay,” you respond, voice shaky.

“Can I hug you?” Billy asks.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Billy pulls you into his arms, squeezing you tightly against him. He has this way of getting you out of your head, of making you feel like the two of you are all that matter.

You’ve both risen up onto your knees, the mattress dipping around you. Billy’s hands are rubbing all over your back.

He leans his head back a little, making sure he catches your attention before he dips his chin down to gesture at where the both of your chests meet.

“They don’t feel gross to me.”

You heave a sigh, pulling away from him completely, and trying to ignore how proud he looks of himself.

“We’re gonna keep workin’ on this, alright? I’m not letting you hate on yourself so much anymore.”

“Yes, sir.”

Billy rolls his eyes, but you give him a hopeful, yet sad, smile, all the confirmation he’s looking for. That you’ll try.

“So what else about the beach is it that you’re worried about? I’ll buy you a fucking umbrella, I swear. And if you go, I’ll let you drive.”

Your eyes widen, and Billy knows he’s just won you over. He knows that you have a soft spot for his car, and he’ll do anything to keep you happy.

————

“You aren’t upset that you’re not going?”

“No, not really. I mean, I like it there, but I’ve never had the same attachment to it as Billy has.”

Max slings another swimsuit over her arm. You decided that you really wanted to try and find one you might be comfortable in. Billy said you didn’t have to swim, even if he didn’t want you to overheat, but you’re determined to find something. And Max had happily offered to help you while Billy worked on finding you both a place to stay.

Every once in a while, Max will hold one up to you, as if contemplating the color, and then decide she wants you to try it on without asking, knowing you’ll argue with her.

“Do you miss it?”

She shrugs her shoulders, nodding towards the dressing rooms and leading the way. She’s holding substantially more swimsuits than you are, and you know you’ll be trying on every single one.

“Sometimes? I miss my family. And I think even for Billy it’s mostly about his mom. California was the last place he was sort of…happy. But I like Hawkins, you know? And even if he likes it better now too, I’ve never been as determined to go back as he is.”

You pause outside the dressing room, clutching the slippery fabric harder than necessary. “I understand. Anything you want me to bring back for you?”

Max opens the door for you and starts hanging up suits on the hooks provided. She grins. “I’ll never say no to a prize. Now stop stalling, and get in here.”

You do as she says, and make her choose which one to try first, just to make it easier on yourself.

Max closes her eyes while you change, but when she hears the shuffling stop and a sniffling replaces it, she moves her hands.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She stands up next to you.

You’re crying, but you’re trying so, so hard not to let the tears slip out. “I’m sorry,” you say, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. “I just haven’t seen my body like this in a long time, and I feel like I look so ugly.”

She grabs your wrists and gently pulls them away from your face.

“You don’t look ugly. You look great.”

Max turns you so that you’re facing the mirror again. Your hands fly to your stomach, and you start to poke at it. She watches you pull at the skin of your hips, trying to see what it’d look like if there was less of it.

“Don’t do that,” she scolds you. You let your hands fall to your sides, and she catches the stray tear before it can slide down your cheek. She’s being much too nice to you.

“You don’t think that’s gross?” you question, criticizing your body in the mirror, comparing it to the stockpile of other bodies you’ve got in your brain.

Max puts her hands on her hips. “No, I don’t think it’s gross. I think you look hot.”

You scoff, pulling at one of the straps. It’s a one- piece, in a color you really like, because you’re too scared to show your tummy right now. There’s a voice in the back of your head that says it looks just fine, but you ignore it.

“You can’t really think that, Max.”

“Oh, but I can, and I do. So, you’re just gonna have to live with that. And Billy told me about your problems with your body—he’s got a big mouth, you know that? But I wanted to tell you that my hips look like that too. It’s normal.”

She’s standing like Steve, determined to have you believe her. Determined to be there for you.

“I think you should get this one,” she continues. “I know you like it.”

“I don’t know, Max.”

“Then try on a few more, okay? Don’t let your thoughts stop you from picking out something you like. As long as it’s comfortable, that’s all that matters. You have a great body, and you deserve to go to the beach with your boyfriend and wear a swimsuit.”

She flops down on the bench, an encouraging smile gracing her face when she reaches up and shoves another bathing suit into your hands.

Max Mayfield is very convincing when she wants to be. Not only do you keep the tears at bay for the rest of the trip, you also end up getting the first one, as well as one she slipped in your basket at the last second because it “Looked too kickass not to buy.”

————

“You make a very pretty passenger princess, you know.”

Billy rolls his eyes, and even if you can’t exactly see the gesture with your own glued to the road, you feel the disturbance. He smacks his hand against your bare thigh and leaves it there, even if it is too hot for skin-to-skin contact. You know if it weren’t for the air conditioning blasting your face, you might’ve shoved him out of the car.

“Turn up here, you little shit.”

You’ve made it off of all the main roads, now driving through beach town after beach town. Billy can’t even complain about your driving because well…you’re a good driver. He watches you eye the swankier resorts, the ones with pools and valet parking. He hopes you’ll be happy with the little house he found. It’s not too far from where he grew up, and he’d been pleased about being somewhat familiar with the area.

The sound of gravel under the tires makes you feel safe. Billy directs you towards your destination, and when you park the car, you feel like you might cry.

The house is small, sure, but it’s welcoming. The neighborhood isn’t suffocatingly full, either. Sure, there are other homes, some larger than others with their big balconies and wrap-around porches, but it feels…nice.

You turn off the engine and get out. Billy walks around the other side of the car and wraps his arms around your waist. “You wanna go look around? I’ll come back and get our shit in a minute.”

You spin around and smack a kiss to his forehead. If his cheeks weren’t already red from the heat, he knows they would be simply from your affection. You nod, and Billy takes your hand, leading up the little set of stairs to the door.

He bends over. “The lady on the phone said the key was under the mat.” He comes back up with the metal in hand.

“The lady on the phone?” you wonder.

Billy pushes the door open. “Yeah, it’s like an old ass couple renting this place out. She practically told me her whole life story the other day.” You grin and hook your fingers in his belt loops, letting him pull you around inside the house.

It really is cozy. One bedroom, two and a half bathrooms. Comfy little barstools and a sweet couch. The part you’re really excited about is the porch. Excited enough that you separate from Billy and pull the sliding glass doors open to step outside.

You can see the beach. It might take a little bit to walk down there, but you can see it. Which means you can watch the sunset.

“You like it?” Billy leans against the doorframe behind you. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“I really do.”

He pulls you in for a kiss then, lips warm and a little chapped against yours.

“So, I have this plan.” You raise an eyebrow, clearly a little frightened by that idea. He grins, and kisses you again, trying to shut you up, you know. “There’s a board shop not far from here that closes in…” He pauses, looking at his watch. “An hour and a half. I was gonna rent one so that I can surf tomorrow. Do you wanna go with me or stay here?”

You look over at the bench tucked into the corner of the porch. The cushion looks very comfortable, and you did bring a book. He knows what you’re doing to say before you even say it.

“I think I’ll stay here.”

“That’s cool, baby. I can pick up dinner?” He squeezes at your hips.

“That would be nice.”

You reach around and slip your hands into his back pockets. He won’t say it, but you seem a little lighter now that you’re here. Like you aren’t so panicked about the prospect of vacation, but rather content to be there with him. It’s as if you know he’s going to take real good care of you–which he is.

“That way you can explore, right?” he teases. You’re like a cat that way. You have to check everything out first before you really settle down.

“Right.” You press a kiss to the tip of his nose, and he pats around on your ass, looking for his keys. When he secures them, he gives it a firm smack, just while he can get away with it, and then he’s moving away from you.

But he’s right. You do feel a little more content. Maybe even comfortable.

————

“Be fucking still, William.”

“It’s cold,” he bites back.

You’re rubbing sunscreen all over his back, and even if you’ve already covered the rest of him in it, and helped him tie his hair up into a sweet little bun, he’s destined to be the whiniest man in all of existence. You know for a fact that it isn’t that cold, considering he’d put it on you minutes before.

“There.” You push your hand into the skin of his neck, making sure you’ve got every spot. You refuse to listen to him fuss about a sunburn. “I’m all done.”

Billy turns around to face you, placing his sunglasses up on the top of his head. “Ready to get going then?”

“If by ready to watch you eat shit, then yes.”

Billy aligns his face with yours, locking eyes and everything. “I’m not gonna eat shit.”

“Eh,” you shrug, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I bet you will.”

He kisses your shoulder over the t-shirt you’re wearing. He still hasn’t seen the swimsuit you’ve put on, and you’re trying to postpone it for as long as possible. It’s a miracle you didn’t cry getting it on, but you tried to remember what Max had said, how sweet Billy had been when you’d come clean about your insecurities. It is comfortable, at least. You just feel all sorts of wrong wearing it. But you can’t let that ruin this whole trip. It’s not worth it.

“Come on, grumpy pants. Get a move on.”

When you finally make it to the beach, you’re so hot and sticky you could beat the shit out of him right then and there. There’s no way this is actually enjoyable for people. Definitely not in this heat.

Billy has left to retrieve an umbrella and a chair for you, insisting he can just sit on a towel. By the time he gets back, you’re full on pouting. It makes him laugh. You cross your arms and watch him work the umbrella into the sand.

He finishes and reaches a hand out to pull you up from where you’d plopped on top of the towel bag. “It’s so hot,” you whine, faking tears.

He just keeps laughing. “I know. That’s why you’re gonna come in the water with me, and then you’ll cool off and you can come sit here and watch me eat shit.”

He pulls his shirt off over his head. Your eyes wander all over his torso, soaking in every inch of skin, every freckle and scar. “I thought you weren’t gonna eat shit,” you argue, leaning in to kiss the raised patch on his chest.

You wish you could be as confident about your body as he is sometimes. Things got really hard for Billy after Starcourt, but at some point something just snapped, and he decided he should show off the messy scars. He takes care of them as best as he can, much better care than he ever thought he would, and they are looking better.

You even wish that you could love on your own the way you do his. But that’s just not the case.

“Yeah, well I probably will eat shit, so.” He gestures towards your shirt. “You gonna swim in that?” His eyes drop to your bare thighs. No one should be allowed to look that sweet.

“Um…no.” You tentatively grab the hem of your shirt and pull it off quickly, trying to rip off the bandaid. When you’re done, Billy has to remember to keep his mouth closed, his jaw having legitimately dropped.

“Holy shit. This is the body you’ve been so mean to?”

“If you don’t stop, I’m gonna put the shirt back on.”

He steps closer to you. He’s gawking. “No! Please don’t. You look hot, baby.”

You’re not sure anyone has ever called you hot before. Certainly not whilst in an item of clothing that doesn’t leave much to the imagination, even if you are pretty damn covered. It’s a little bit higher cut on the sides than you’re used to, but it holds everything in well. You feel exposed. If you think about it for too long you’ll probably just throw up.

You put your hands over your belly and tilt your head, smushing your cheek into your shoulder. “Billy,” you fuss.

He removes your hands and instead takes them in him, pulling you down the beach with him. When you get to the water, Billy watches you wade out until it’s knee deep, trying to keep his eyes away from your ass.

He thinks you look fucking radiant like this. And he’s never actually even said that word. You’re looking down, probably for sand dollars or little fish. Billy takes this opportunity to look at your body. Not in a judgemental way by any means, but simply because he’s never gotten to see it like this. You’re being vulnerable with him, and that means more than anything else could.

Billy wades out a little further than you and disappears beneath the waves for just a moment. When he emerges you think this is what people must have thought about Achilles. He is breathtakingly gorgeous, and it simply isn’t fair. You can’t believe that you have him.

Billy walks you back to your umbrella and gets you nice and shielded from the sun before he heads back out to attempt surfing. He might’ve been messing with you, but it has been a few years, and he really might get his ass handed to him by the ocean.

You’re eating a popsicle when he finally catches a wave, after having tried and failed for a little while. It’s impressive to see him up there like that, especially when you can’t even comprehend how he does it.

You might hate the heat, and you might hate the fact that there’s sand up your ass, but you think you could sit here and watch Billy surf for hours with no complaint. It’s like he’s in his element, way more than when he played basketball. You can tell that he knows what he’s doing, that he sort of listens to the water and obeys.

You allow yourself to imagine a future like this. One where maybe you can come back during the summers, just the two of you or maybe with Max and a friend of hers. You could never give up snow, so it couldn’t be permanent, but you could do it for Billy.

You could do anything if it meant getting to see him so happy. If it meant getting to feel so loved and so safe. It is your greatest honor to be loved by Billy Hargrove, a boy that everyone thought was incapable of loving.

————

“Motherfucker.”

Billy’s voice echoes in the bathroom, reaching you where you lay in the bed. You can’t see him from where you are.

It’s been a few days, and it’s gotten easier to put on that swimsuit. To look at yourself in the mirror. You’ve done a lot of thinking, a lot of listening. You might even say you’ve learned from Billy during this trip. Not that you’d boost his ego by telling him so.

He rushes out of the bathroom and flops down in front of you, holding his hand aloft. “Baby, I need help. I got a splinter from your goddamn umbrella. I can’t get it out.”

“What do you say, Hargrove?” You sit up, taking the tweezers from him with an evil grin on your face.

“Pretty please?”

“That’s it.”

The second you get your eyes on the splinter, you know he just wanted attention from you. It’s big, and he could’ve just pulled it out with his fingernails. But you’re touched he wanted your help. That says a lot more than he probably realizes.

You grip the edge of the teeny wood piece and gently pull it out from under his skin. You place it in the palm of his hand. “Ta-da.”

He snorts, and you kiss the tip of his finger. “All better now?”

“Yep.”

He slips into bed with you soon after, and you can’t help but sit up on your knees, just so you can get a good look at him.

The freckles under his eyes have become loads more prominent, and they spread over his shoulders and collarbones like someone’s dumped glitter all over him.

He lets you look at him, too, just admiring you in the moment. You look sleepy, beat from being out all day, from driving around to see where Billy grew up, but he thinks you’ve never looked prettier. He tells you so and you use his hand to shield your face.

It makes Billy laugh, and he pushes your head gently, knowing you’ll go all dramatic and fall back, and when you do you end up in his lap.

You curl up like a cat, wrapping your arms around him so you can rest your head on his tummy and splay your fingers out over his warm back. You change positions quickly though, propping your chin up with your hands.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Billy says, swiping a thumb over the apple of your cheek. It’s a light enough touch that it tickles.

“Don’t have to thank me. I wanted to.”

He exhales. “I know, but I also know it’s been hard for you, being in your head all the time.”

“It’s okay. You’re helping.”

He smirks. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” You scoot up and tuck yourself into his side. You might not even need a blanket with all the heat he radiates. “Much too good to me,” you mutter, kissing his chest.

“You deserve it.”

He feels you grin against his skin, bashful as ever no matter how long you’ve known each other.

Billy moves onto his side and entangles himself with you, holding you tight to his chest.

You reciprocate the hold, squeezing a little to tell him you love him. “Thank you for bringing me home. I can see how happy you are here.”

“I’d be happy anywhere as long as you were there too.”

You snort. “That’s so cheesy.”

“It’s true, though.”

“I know it is.” You’re silent for a minute before you remember. “We gotta get Max a prize before we leave.”

“Oh yeah, bring the little shit a gift.”

“She deserves a prize for having helped me pick out a bathing suit.”

Billy contemplates your statement. “Hm. Yeah, that works. So what do I get then, huh?”

“My eternal love.”

“Oh. I was hoping you’d like, take me to dinner or something.”

“Talk about being a little shit,” you mumble, sleep taking over. For the first time, you aren’t worried about going to the beach tomorrow. You aren’t worried about what squish Billy might be able to feel, holding you like this. You feel comfortable. Maybe you’re not completely in love with yourself, but with Billy around, you might get there one day. For now, that’s enough. It’s more than enough.

“Eternal love it is then.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#savannah’s fics #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x chubby!reader #billy hargrove x chubby!fem!reader #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove one shot #billy hargrove comfort #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #max mayfield #billy stranger things #billy hargrove x female reader

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zmbiesuga · 7 months

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I literally jumped with joy when you fallowed me back omg ily sm. So I was at the doctors and my doctor told me how he proposed to his wife and it was so sweet. He said he was stressed from finals and he had like a dream that his wife died and he dreamed of everything he couldn’t do with her. So when he woke up it was like 2 in the morning and he ran to his room to get the ring he had. He had it for two whole like years but ran to her dorm and begged her to say yes because he couldn’t wait. Could you write a fic of kuroo doing that with his boyfriend?

JUMP THEN FALL — k. tetsuro x m!reader

sypnosis: kuroo has always known that he wanted to marry you, and he's always said that he'll do it when he knows it's right. what's more perfect than asking after he had a dream about you dying?

warnings: mentions of death (nothing too graphic but still), kuroo being a fucking loser dork but i adore him so it's fine <3, fluff, happy ending!, angst if you squint really really hard, kuroo and reader are in their last year of college in this one, but i'm not in college yet so idfk how it works but i'll pretend i do!! use of the petnames 'babe' and 'baby'

notes: okay i'm so so sorry this took so long, i had a really bad depressive episode, i hope you like it, this request is really cute and i had a lot of fun writing it :D and two, that is so nice of you to say omg :( of course i followed you back, you always send me requests, you interact with my stuff a lot and you're just really nice so thank you for that <3

Kuroo has always wanted to marry you, it's the one thing he's been sure of in his entire life.

When you bring up marriage to him, however, he just tells you to "be patient" and that he'll "do it when he knows it's right" which constantly keeps you on your toes in case your dork of a boyfriend decides that the "right time" is during one of your lectures or at any inappropriate time really.

It kept Kuroo on his toes too, because what you don't know is that in the far-right corner of his sock drawer holds a small velvet box with a beautiful band inside of it. Every day he can feel his hand graze over the box, thinking to himself, maybe now is the right time.

But then he shakes his head, and decides it isn't.

And besides, as much as Kuroo loves you, he has finals to worry about. And they're really kicking his ass.

Although most people would peg Kuroo as the focused studious type (which he tried so desperately to be), the truth was that he tried so hard to procrastinate as much as possible. However, was it really procrastination if he needs the sleep?

When it was to avoid studying for finals, yes it was.

"Kuroo, sleeping to avoid studying for finals is not something you should do," your voice rippled out through the speaker of his phone, "especially if it's every single time you have them."

"Babe, you are the one who is constantly nagging me to sleep more," he rebutted, that stupid cocky tone he always had lingering in the back of his throat ever present, "I'm finally listening to you, I think you should take that as a win."

"Kuroo," your voice cracked again through that shoddy android speaker again, a certain firmness to it this time, "please promise me that you'll study, you're gonna hate yourself if you don't."

"Baby, I promise you I will, you know my word to you is good," he replied, you could hear that fucking cocky grin etching itself onto his face, "right after my little nap. I love you; I'll talk to you soon."

After you too bid your goodbyes, Kuroo made himself as comfortable on that dorm room mattress as he could, until his eyes got heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.

Kuroo could have sworn it was real.

The chase, your blood curdling scream, the way his stomach dropped to the soles of his feet when he realized he was too late.

It wasn't until he shot up in bed with that same nauseous feeling sitting in his chest as his breath came out panicked and labored had he realized it was nothing but a fucked-up dream.

Kuroo had never been so happy to wake up.

Slowly, but surely, he had calmed himself down. His breath returning to normal as the nauseous feeling in his chest disappeared, what didn't disappear, however, was that he didn't want to live life without you. He didn't want to graduate without you beside him, he didn't want to start a company without you there cheering him on along the way, and he sure as hell didn't want to imagine having a family with anyone else that wasn't you. Life was too short for hesitation, it was too short for his hesitation.

He quickly rushed out of bed, pulling an old hoodie over his torso, slipping on his shoes, and rifling through his drawer to grab that velvet box that had been sitting there for two years, begging to be let free.

Luckily for him, your dorm wasn't far from his. He hadn't even bothered to check the time on his phone, where the light flashed a large: 2:03 A.M. at him, he didn't care if his frantic speed walking down the hallway woke up everyone on that floor, he was only worried about getting to you.

When he got to your dorm, he rapped his fist against the door so hard he could've sworn that his knuckles would crack open. The door opened to a very annoyed you, but he didn't care if he interrupted your sleep, or your studying, he was just so elated to see you in front of him.

"Kuroo, what the hell?" you seethed, "It's two in the morning, what on earth —"

You were quickly cut off by Kuroo dropping to one knee in the doorway of your dorm room, pulling out that velvet box in all its glory, revealing that beautiful band you had mentioned liking to him once, you couldn't control the way your mouth slightly dropped in confusion, a wave of emotions hitting you like a tsunami.

"(Y/n), please, just listen to me," he blurted out in an almost pleading tone, "I've always wanted to wait until the right moment to ask you this, but recently, I've realized that the right moment was in front of me the entire time."

You tried to get a word in, but Kuroo's word vomit was faster.

"(Y/n), I've realized there is so much I want to do with you, so much that I can't do without you," he said, you swore you could see the tears well in the corner of his eyes, "everything from this point forward is useless if I can't do it with you by my side, so I'm begging you, even though it's two a.m. and we're both in our pajamas with messy hair and dark circles under our eyes, will you make me the happiest man alive, and marry me?"

It was your turn to be stunned, you stared down at your boyf — fiancée, in front of you with stained sweatpants and an old Nekoma sweatshirt barely big enough to cover his torso asking you to marry him at two in the morning.

You stayed quiet for so long, it scared Kuroo. Maybe this wasn't the right time, you two were still in college, this was all so sudden, so impulsive, he should have waited, he should have —

All these thoughts were expelled from his head as he felt your body weight push against his, squeezing him so tight in an embrace that he could barely breath.

"Yes," you whispered against the side of his neck, he could feel the tears from your eyes splashing there as well, "oh my god Kuroo, yes, a million times over."

He smiled softly at you, resting his own head against your shoulder as you held him in your arms. If this is what the rest of his life looked like, then god was he excited for it.

#love letters from leo #my dearest haikyuu #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x male reader #kuroo x m!reader #hq x reader #hq x male reader #hq x m!reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x m!reader #kuroo fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #kuroo my love.#light of my life my sweet pie

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strniohoeee · 3 months

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Can you do a Matt x fem reader where she is sick with the flu. Like has a fever and everything and tries to hide her sickness from Matt and the other two? Up until she almost collapses from how sick she is? Which makes Matt worry and get all protective of y/n. And he ends up just taking care of her, getting medicine, snacks, and of course cuddles, cuddles, cuddles.

Btw I LOVE your writing, it’s so good!

Cough Drops

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N figures out she might have the flu, but feels bad having Matt worry about her; so she keeps it on the low. This is until she almost faints…

Warnings⚠️: NONEEEE, kind of short?? cute little Matt moment. Plus IM BACKKKKK

Song for the imagine: How To Fight Loneliness- Wilco

How to fight loneliness?

Smile all the time

Shine your teeth till meaningless

And sharpen them with lies

My hearing went in and out as my breathing began to shallow. My eyes were glued shut as I tried to focus on anything else other than the way I was feeling right now.

My body was aching as I involuntarily shuttered here and there. My teeth chattering together as I tucked my hands into the sleeves of my hoodie.

Matt and his brothers were at my house to hang out which I didn’t mind but right now I needed my bed and a thick warm blanket. My head began to pound about an hour ago, and up until now I didn’t want to take any medicine.

Reluctantly I got up from my couch and swore I almost passed out, but I shook those feelings away.

“You okay baby?” Matt asked looking back at me

“Ugh yeah I’m okay my head just hurts” I replied smiling at him

“Are you sure? You look a bit pale” he said looking at my face

“I think I’m just super exhausted from this weekend” I replied

“We can leave and you can rest” he said and his brothers nodded their heads

“Noo don’t worry I’m okay” I said shaking my head

He nodded at me and I walked to my kitchen, opening the cabinet and taking out two extra strength Tylenols. I popped them in my mouth and washed them down with water from the sink.

Suddenly I sneezed and I tried to mask it by turning the sink back on. Luckily they didn’t hear it so I shut the water off and grabbed my thermometer. Placing it in my ear and waiting for the beep

I looked down at the temperature 103.2 Fahrenheit. My eyes popped out of my head. I’ve never had a fever this high, and suddenly I began to rack my brain on how I got sick.

Finally I realized I visited my friend last week and the following day she told me she tested positive for the flu. Fuck I thought to myself….. I got the flu….

I walked over to the couch and sat down with a cup of water not really sure what to say, but about 30 minutes later I started to cough.

It was a dry cough, but then I realized my throat began to get scratchy. There was a movie playing so my coughs went unheard.

I hated being sick around Matt because he dropped everything for me. And I appreciated it, but I felt bad he was too good to me.

An hour into the movie I began to feel super weak and nauseous, and it got to the point where the movie and the lights being on was starting to annoy me.

I got up and started to head to my room

“Hey where are you going?” Chris asked me in a playful way

“I think I’m going to lay down my head really hurts” I replied rubbing my temples

“Do you need anything?”chris asked

“No I’m okay” I replied and suddenly I began to cough

“Babe I think you’re sick” Matt said

“No I’m okay I promise, it’s just allergies” I said shaking it off

“Y/N you are so pale right now” Nick said getting worried

“I just….I just need-

Suddenly my hearing began to go out and my vision became tunneled and I couldn’t even focus on what to say. Suddenly my knees buckled and I felt myself getting woozy

Before I could hit the floor Matt ran over and grabbed me

“I got you I got you” he replied lifting me up

“Come on baby” he said and walked me to my room

He laid me down on the bed as I was incoherent and walked out the room.

He came back and sat next to me

“Smell this” he said putting an alcohol soaked pad under my nose

“CHRIS OR NICK BRING ME SOME JUICE FOR HER” he yelled as he turned to look at the door

“You’re coming back to me baby” he said rubbing my hair

“Matt what happened” I said blinking slowly

“You passed out, but you’re okay” he said as I began to sit up a little bit

“Take it easy” he said helping me sit up

Chris and Nick walked in with a cup of juice and gave it to me

“How are you feeling?” Nick asked

“I’m okay, but I think I have the flu. My best friend has it and I saw her last week” I said sipping on the cold drink

“Oh no! Chris and I are going to leave and leave you with Matt” Nick said

“Thank you” I said offering a weak smile

Matt had dropped them home and came back to my apartment.

He was gone for a while so I fell asleep and the sound of my bedroom door woke me up

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you” he said coming in

I turned on my lamp and looked at him, giggling

He had a face mask on and had target bags in his hand

“Okay so this is my first time taking care of a sick girlfriend, so I got a lot of shit” he replied placing the bags on my bed

“Matt you don’t have to” I said laughing

“Nooo I want to” he said whining

“I appreciate it” I said taking a sip of the juice on my night stand

“Okay sooo I got cough drops, but different ones for different things, and then I got Vicks tissues because I know you and your Vicks go hand in hand, and I got some Robitussin for severe colds, ummm I got some aguaphor for your lips because I know they get dry when your nose is stuffed. Gatorade, water, soup and I got some snacks you love” he said placing everything on my tv stand

“Matttt thank you I love you” I said getting up

“I love you too, now how are you feeling?” He asked getting concerned

“My body hurts, my throat hurts and my nose is getting stuffed, but I think I broke my fever” I said opening up a bag of cough drops and taking one

“Let me feel your forehead” he said waving be towards him

He placed his hand on my forehead and nodded his head

“You feel normal to me” he said

“Good because I need a shower” I said dragging my feet to my dresser

“You shower and I’ll make some soup and what not” he said walking out my room

After my shower I walked out to Matt sitting on my bed eating soup

“I made your favorite chicken noodle” he said

“Ouu yay” I replied and hopped onto my bed

Enjoying the soup and crackers as we talked

Matt decided to put a movie on, but he sat so far from me

“Come closer” I replied looking at him

“You’re infested” he said cleaning up our dishes

“You’re already exposed we made out this morning” I said rolling my eyes

“Ahhh very true” he said removing his mask and snuggling under the covers

Snaking his arm over my waist as he pulled me in closer as we watched Girl, Interrupted. His fingers played with my hair as I slowly drifted off to sleep.

“Get some rest my love” he whispered before placing a kiss on my temple.

Matt made being sick less insufferable. I laid in his arms with a smile on my face as I dozed off….

The End

YALLL IVE BEEN GONE FOR ALMOST TWO WEEKS. I’m sooo sorry ya girl had Covid, but I’m back and better than ever. I love yall sooo much🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagines #matthew sturniolo imagines

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gizmo-writes · 11 months

Text

caught | spencer reid

warnings: kidnapping, allusion to rape, loss of virginity (not by choice), guns, fuck or die trope, being shot, crying, pain, concussion, spencer is the biggest sweet heart, hospitals, talk of Spencer's trauma, happy ending?

special shout out to @imagining-in-the-margins they are an amazing writer! they inspired me to write this so a huge huge thank you to them!

Your head pounded, you felt light headed and dizzy. You tried to open your eyes but your head hurt too much. The cold floor grounded you, it was a nice constant. You could hear a voice but couldn't quite place it, it echoed in your mind only making your head hurt more. You groaned, you couldn't get up, everything hurt too much. And there was that damned voice again, speaking way too loudly for your comfort. "Please stop," you whimpered, your body ached to the point that you felt nauseous. "Y/n, please.. tell me you're okay," the voice said but once again you groaned. "Shh," you said, trying to get them to stop speaking.

You faintly heard the noise of a lock clicking but you didn't quite understand what it meant. But before you could even think, you felt hands on your body. The hands were gentle on your arms, trying to help you move but you didn't want to. "It's me, y/n It's me. It's spencer. Talk to me." He said. Spencer, oh thank god it was spencer. "Stop, i don't wanna move," you said, voice shaking. "Okay, okay. We won't move, im just gonna put your head in my lap." He said. Once again, you were groaning as he did so. You could feel him moving but you refused to open your eyes. He placed the fabric of his sweater on your forehead, you must've been bleeding, that's the only reason he'd do that. "Can you open your eyes? I need to check if you have a concussion." Spencer said. You whined, "it hurts, everything hurts." You said. "I know, I know but I need to know you're okay. After that you can close your eyes again." He said. You forced your eyes open, looking up at spencer. You would've been so happy to see him but he looked horrible. He was disheveled and obviously been crying. He never cries, why was he crying?

"Follow my finger, okay baby?" He said. You did your best but it was hard. You kept having to close your eyes because the pain was too much. Spencer sighed, giving up, "you probably have a concussion. You can close your eyes now. Just relax, I've got you." He said, petting your hair gently in hopes it would help you relax. "What happened?" You asked after a few moments of silence. "The unsub we've been hunting... he got us. But I'll keep you safe, i promise." He said. "Spencer, we- we've been through this. We don't make promises," you said softly. You were right and Spencer knew that. You two never made promises in hopes you two could never be let down by the inevitable broken promises. He never promised to be home on time due to the fact that it was almost impossible that he would be home on time. You never promised to stay up for him because it was so hard to stay up late in hopes he'd be home on time. Promises were almost never kept, it wasn't ever anyone's fault. You both knew that.

"Is the team on the way?" You asked, hoping, praying they were closer than you thought. Spencer sighed, he didn't answer, instead just leaning down and kissing the top of your head. That wasn't a good sign. "Just relax, remember how you've been planning that beach trip?" Spencer said. "That was supposed to be a surprise," you sighed softly. "I know, but I saw your laptop.. I've been thinking about it ever since. I've never liked the beach but i think with you.. I could really enjoy it. Finding a nice shady spot where I can read and you can drink your fancy little cocktails you enjoy so much," he smiled at the thought. You tried to giggle but it hurt, that sounded so nice, so perfect. "Now, i refuse to get into the water.. but I know you would too. The ocean is so vast, so unexplored. You've always hated the unknown but who doesn't. It's a common fear, just like the dark, it makes sense. But it'll be me and you, on a white sandy beach, reading, talking, drinking. It's perfect." He said, never stopping petting your hair.

He kept talking but you couldn't hear it. You started to doze off and he could tell by how your body relaxed. Part of him was worried that if you fell asleep, you might not wake up. But he knew you were strong, you just needed to rest and if you could sleep, then it was best that you did. He couldn't sleep, he refused. He would not let his guard down. He wasn't going to let someone else be taken away from him. It had happened too many times before, he couldn't let it happen again. He stayed vigilant, keeping an eye on your breathing while also looking around the dark room for any escape or any object he could use to protect the two of you. There was nothing, it was a dark room with a bed in the middle. Not a nice bed, just a mattress thrown onto the floor. He noticed the shackles and his stomach turned in knots, he didn't even wanna think about those being used, especially not on you.

He enjoyed the silence, being able to hear your soft breathing brought him solace. He was as comfortable as he could be in a moment like this. It did worry him how long it had been since the unsub had done anything. Was the unsub out? Was he not home, the team had profiled that the unsub had a family so it made sense he wasn't here. But he didn't know what time it was. It had to have been day if the unsub wasn't here. It meant he was either at work or with his family. But he dreaded when the unsub would be back. He knew a little about how it would go. The unsub took couples, made them have sex before he killed them. He never kept them longer than 3 days. The time was ticking and it was breaking his heart.

You woke up after maybe a couple of hours, you weren't sure. You felt somewhat better. Your body ached but not as badly, your head hurt but you were able to open your eyes. You looked up at spencer. "Spence?" You asked, gaining his attention. "Hey, how are you feeling?" He asked gently. "Better... or as much better as I can be." You sighed. "That's good, how's your head? It stopped bleeding." He said, examining the cut on your forehead. "It hurts but not as bad.." you said. You tried to move but spencer stopped you. "Hey, hey, take it slow." He said. He helped you sit up, very slowly. "There we go, can you look at me?" He asked. You did as he asked. He gave you a gentle smile, moving hair from your face. "You seem a little pale, how's your stomach?" He asked. "I'm nauseous.. but I think it's from the pain." You said. "I understand." He said.

There was a loud buzzing noise making you cover your ears, the noise made your head hurt. A door opened, spencer turned to see the unsub wearing a mask. He sat down a tray of food, along with a bottle of water. He pushed them into the room before slamming the door shut. The noise made you jump. You opened your eyes, uncovering your ears. "What is that?" You asked. "Food.. water.." spencer slowly stood. This was new.. the unsub never fed his victims, never kept them hydrated. The ME reporter the victims had no food in their system for three days. This wasn't right. Spencer grabbed the tray and the water and brought it over to you. You went to reach for the bread but spencer stopped you. "It might be poisonous.." he said, you nodded before pulling back. Spencer inspected the bottle of water, he knew you needed water. Dehydration would only make the concussion worse. It hadn't looked like it had been tampered with. No small holes to indicate poison. No broken seal to indicate it would be replaced with something else. He even took the label off to further investigate but it looked clean. "Okay, take sips. Don't chug it." Spencer said, opening the water. He brought it to your lips, you took the bottle with shaking hands and did as he said, only taking sips of the water.

He went back to the food, he didn't trust it but it also wouldn't make sense to poison it if he was planning on keeping the two of you. "I'm sorry y/n.. I don't think we should eat it. It's not safe, too many variables." He said. You nodded and watched as he pushed the tray to the side. You offered Spencer the water but he shook his head, "you need it baby. Keep taking sips." He said. You wanted to fight him but couldn't, you didn't have it in you. You took a few more sips before closing the bottle and setting it down. "Spence.." you looked around the room, finally taking in your surroundings. It was like he could read your mind, you didn't have to say you were scared. He already knew. He saw it in your eyes. He saw it in the way your hands trembled. "I know.. but it's okay to be scared. It's a natural reaction to what's happening." He explained. You nodded. You pulled your knees to your chest, trying to bring yourself comfort in the cold, dark room. Spencer placed the sweater he had used to stop your bleeding around your shoulders. You took it happily, cuddling into the warmth. "Are you scared?" You asked. Spencer would never admit it, he was ducking terrified. The unsub was deviating from his MO and he didn't know what it meant. He didn't even know if this was the same unsub at this point. His mind was racing and he was so scared but he'd never admit it. He knew you weren't a profiler so he knew he could hide his emotions from you. But he wandered if it was even a good idea. "A little," he admitted, but that's all he gave you.

He was thankful when you didn't push him any further. You took his answer as it was and he was thankful. He wasn't sure what would come next, he had been through so many hostage situations but nothing like this. Nothing where he was stuck with the woman he loved more than anything, nothing where he might be faced to have sex with the woman he loved in a place that he never wanted it to happen at. He had made so many plans in his mind about his first time with you but he never went through with any of them. Not because he didn't want to but because work or his own anxiety got in the way. But he knew for a fact that this wasn't how he wanted it to happen.

The silence quickly ended though when there was another loud buzz, the noise made you shake. Once again the door opened. "Bring me the tray." The unsub said. Spencer grabbed the tray but stopped when the unsub pulled out a gun, pointing it at spencer. "Not you, her." The gun was now pointed at you. Your heart stopped, in reality, it sped up faster than it ever had. "I'm not sure she can stand, she's hurt." Spencer tried to explain but the unsub shook his head. "Bring me the tray or i shoot." He demanded. Tears brimmed your eyes. You stood shakily, spencer was sure you might fall. You didn't though. Spencer saw you about to bend down but he quickly grabbed the tray and handed it to you. Your legs were shaking as you walked. You walked slowly, scared you would fall. Your head pounded just like your heart. You brought the tray to the unsub. The gun was brought to your head and you cried out. "Do not kill her or i swear to god-" Spencer started but was cut off. "I wouldn't kill such a pretty little thing like this. So pure, so innocent. Does he know?" The unsub asked, the gun moving from your temple to under your chin. It didn't take a genius to put together what the unsub had said. But spencer already knew you were a virgin, you never had to say it. He could tell when you kissed, so unsure of yourself. He could tell when your hands shook as your tried to undo the buttons of his shirt for the first time. Every part of your body and how you reacted to him when you two made out screamed virgin, insecurity, unsure of yourself. He knew and you never even had to say it.

"Don't worry darling, I'll film it so you can watch it over and over again. See how he takes that pretty little flower of yours and tears it to shreds. Do you know what men think about when they see a virgin? They only think about one thing, absolutely ruining you. They wanna ruin you, they wanna tear you apart till you are nothing. Then they wanna throw you to the side because guess what? You aren't as special as you think you are, especially after you're no longer a virgin." The unsub said, gun still shoved under your chin. He used it to make you look up at him. "I wanted to tear you to fucking shreds the moment I saw you in that pretty pink dress. So young, so pure. How old are you? 25? Your birthday was recently, I remember the party. You got so drunk that spencer here had to carry you home. I'm surprised he didn't defile you then, take advantage of you. He must really love you if he didn't want to take you right then and there." The unsub said. Tears were streaming down your face by now, you could barely see. You tried to focus, not on his words but on his eyes. It was important to take in every detail you could incase you escaped so you could tell the team what you saw. His eyes were green, nothing special about them. There was nothing identifying about him, no different colored eyes, no black specks that you could place. There was nothing and you felt defeated. "Move back," the unsub said. You did as he said, and with that the door shut.

You couldn't move and neither could spencer. He replayed the whole conversation back in his head. The pretty pink dress he was referring to was the one you wore on your first date with spencer. He knew your birthday, he was at the party. The party was small, close friends and family only. He knew you were a virgin, no one knew that. Unless they were your close friend. This didn't make sense, how did he know so much. They didn't profile the unsub to be a stalker, he was a man that took couples of opportunity. He kept them for three days, never fed them or let them drink. This wasn't the original unsub.. this was someone totally different. This was a stalker, a man who had followed you around for days, months, at this point maybe even years. This was a whole different story, the team didn't know about him. The team wouldn't be here any time soon. And now he had no idea how long the two of you had to live. He had nothing, he had no profile, he had no clues. But maybe, just maybe you knew something.

"Y/n," spencer spoke but you were unmoving. He stood up walking over to you. You were like a statue, the only identifiable form of life was the way your hands shook. "Y/n," he grabbed your shoulders and turned you around to face him. He saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, his heart broke. "Do you know him?" Spencer asked. "His eyes were green spencer, that's all I could see. I couldn't- I didn't see anything else. Spencer I tried but there was nothing-" you were close to breaking down, going on a rant about how you tried so hard to place him. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You did good. You tried. Green eyes, that's good. That's a start." Spencer said, grabbing your shaking hands. He pulled you into his chest, "do you know anyone, any man with green eyes?" He asked. You shook your head, you couldn't place anyone because you couldn't even think straight. He had been watching you for so long and you never noticed and it scared the shit out of you. "Okay, that's okay. We can try something later after you calm down, okay?" He said and you nodded. Spencer brought you back over to the corner where the two of you sat before. He sat down, pulling you between his legs and holding you tightly. The tightness of his arms grounded you, the feeling of the cold floor against your legs also kept you grounded. "We will get through this, no matter what. Okay?" He said and you nodded.

You didn't even notice when Spencer started to speak, he was repeating a book to you. It took you a while to place it, but then you realized, he was quoting Alice in Wonderland, word for word. It was a childhood favorite of yours and he was doing it to comfort you. You buried your head in his arms, crying. As sobs shook through you, spencer held you tighter. He continued to quote the book, he knew it brought you comfort and he was gonna keep you grounded the best way he knew how to. He would never tell you how he was breaking. As time went on, he broke more. He had nothing, no clue about who the unsub was. He was so fucking scared and he didn't know what to do. He thought about trying to subdue the unsub but he had a gun, he could get shot, or worse, you could get shot. He had no way to get help. There were no windows. The door was dead bolted and connected to some sort of mechanism that made it impossible to unlock unless you had the button or passcode or whatever the fuck the unsub had. He was helpless, he had no team, no gun, no profile and no clues. It reminded him of when he was taken by Tobias Hankle. At least then he was able to talk to the unsub, reason with him and get help when needed. Now he had nothing. There was no reasoning with this unsub, his motives were clear. Fuck or Die.

It had become a waiting game, he was able to finish the whole book by the time you had worn yourself out to the point that you passed out. He was anxious, the only solace he found was in playing with your hair. It kept him calm, grounded. He tried to count the time but he kept losing count with every little noise he heard. His heart raced with every sound, so scared the unsub would come back and put the gun back to your head. The image of your body shaking and tears rolling down your face would be forever engrained in his mind. He didn't wanna remember you like that, he wanted to remember you as the sweet, smart girl he knew. The one he fell so hard for. The girl who was the only one who could help him sleep. No matter how many bad cases, bad nights and nightmares he had, he still found comfort in your arms, in the way you played with his hair and sang your favorite songs to him. He was never into pop music, love songs, but when you sang them, they were his own form of heaven. He replayed the songs in his mind as you slept. He never knew who they were by or what they were called but he could recall every single lyric.

It could've been hours by the next time the buzz came and the door opened. You jolted awake, god he wished you had stayed asleep. He didn't want you to go through it again, the gun to your head. "Come here," the unsub said, once again, gun pointed towards spencer. You moved out of Spencer's lap so he could stand up. He walked towards the unsub cautiously, trying to play through the scenarios in his mind. Ones where he'd grab the gun successfully and subdue the unsub. "Don't try to be smart now," The unsub said, gun now pointed at you. His heart sank, all possibilities of subduing the unsub now out the window. You cried again, knees pulled to your chest. "Don't shoot her, I'll cooperate." Spencer said, holding his hands un in defense. "Good," the unsub tossed spencer a pair of keys. Spencer caught them but was confused, he stared at the keys in his hand before looking up at the unsub. "Don't play dumb, you know what to do." The unsub motioned towards the shackles. "No, no, no, we don't need to do that. She'll listen. I promise she will." Spencer said. "What was that that she said earlier? We don't make promises?" The unsub said, spencer could hear the smirk in his voice. He had been listening the whole time.

"I won't- i can't tie her up, please. She- she'll be good. I'll make sure. Please," spencer pleaded. A shot rang out but thankfully it was just at the wall. You screamed, covering your ears. "Okay! Okay, don't shoot! It's okay!" Spencer's ears were ringing. You were quick to move, going over to the bed. You were sobbing and scared and Spencer knew that. He could feel it in every part of his body. He walked over to you, his own hands shaking. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," was all he could say. He grabbed your wrist gently, grabbing the metal cuff and placing it around your wrist. He locked it, he didn't want to but he did. Then he did the next wrist, he was so gentle, so calm. He had to be because he knew if you knew how truly scared he was, you would break. "There, okay, it's done." Spencer said, turning back towards the unsub. The unsub shook his head, "ankles too," he stated. Spencer felt defeated as he looked down at the bed seeing the shackles for your feet. Your legs were pulled to your chest, laying in the fetal position. "P-please don't, please. Please I'll be good," you cried out but the unsub shook his head. "No, do the ankles, now!" He yelled. You moved your legs to lay flat. You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut.

"Hey, hey, listen to me. We're on the beach, yeah? It warm, not too hot, we're not sweating. There's a cool breeze," he spoke as he put the shackles around your ankles. "It's not too cold though, it doesn't make us shiver. You have your music playing.. that one song with the lyrics about, god, what were the lyrics?" For once he couldn't think, he couldn't remember. "The one that goes, "we could leave the Christmas lights up till January," he said. You knew the song, you loved that song. "I-I never understood the lyrics.. leaving the Christmas lights up till January? Why would you do that?" Spencer tried to chuckle but his voice cracked. He couldn't stop the tears from falling. Once he was done with the shackles he looked back at the unsub. "Give me the keys," the unsub said. Spencer nodded, getting up and handing him the keys. With that, the unsub left.

Spencer was quick to be by your side. You broke, struggling in the restraints as you cried. "No, no, relax. You'll hurt yourself. You're already hurt enough, okay?" He said, you couldn't relax. You still struggled, crying. Spencer grabbed your face, "look at me, look at me," Spencer said. You opened your tired eyes, looking at spencer. "It will be okay, i won't hurt you. I won't let him hurt you. If I'm here, you're safe, I'll make sure of it." He said, stroking away the tears on your face. "I wanna go home," you cried. "That's a normal response-" you cried again, "stop! Stop it with the normal responses! This isn't normal! None of this is normal! Please, let me go!" You yelled out, trying to move again. It broke spencer, his eyes squeezing shut as his tears fell onto your shirt. "We'll be home soon, back in bed. Cuddling, watching movies. I promise we can watch a normal movie, none of the old timey russian movies. No need to translate. We can watch Mean girls, or- or some cartoons. We can watch anything you want." He said, trying hard to calm down and calm you down. "Remember- remember when you said you wanted a dog? And i complained, god, i don't know why I complained. We can get a dog now, okay? Any breed, i don't care. We can get a pitbull, a terrier, any dog toy want." He said. "A greyhound?" You asked, sniffling. "Yes, yes, a greyhound. We'll get a greyhound. We'll take him on walks together, bring him to the dog park. He can sleep in our bed, i don't care." Spencer said. He saw a smile from on your face. You leaned into his touch, "maybe we can get a cat too?" You offered. Spencer laughed, "of course, a cat too." He said. You smiled, your crying was slowing down but it didn't stop. He couldn't stop crying either, he tried but it wasn't worth it when he knew it'd start again.

"D-do you think- spencer," you didn't want to finish the sentence. You didn't quite know what you wanted to ask. "It's okay, take your time. We got all day," he tried to joke and it made you smile. "I never wanted our first time to be like this," you whispered. Spencer sighed, "I know, me neither. I wanted it to be with rose petals, music, maybe a nice dinner." He said. "Maybe on a beach," you whispered. Spencer smiled, "you were planning it, weren't you?" He asked, referring to the trip. "I was, but I never- we would never get the time." You giggled. "Your job sucks sometimes," you said. Spencer let out a broken laugh, "it truly does." He said. "But you know, sex on the beach is never what you expect it to be. Sand in places it shouldn't be, not to mention all the dieses in the sand." He said and once more you giggled. "Always ruining the moment," you said. "I never try to, maybe we could have that sex in the hotel room though, just to be safe." He said. "What about all the possible dieses in the hotel bed, huh?" You joked. "Way less than the ones on the beach." He said. You just shocked your head with a smile. "Maybe more than the ones on this bed," you said, really trying to joke. Spencer sighed, you didn't mean to bring the two of you back to reality but you did. You were faced with the horrible reality that you would lose your virginity on this possible dieses ridden bed covered in stains.

"How's your stomach?" Spencer asked, changing the subject. "I forgot about it.. was thinking about the beach, and the dog and the cat." You said. Spencer smiled at that. "Good, do you need some water?" He asked. "That would be nice," you said. Spencer reached over, grabbing the water you had left on the floor. He opened the bottle before placing a hand behind your head. He raised your head, helping you sip some water. You took a few sips before spencer pull the bottle away. "Better?" He asked and you nodded. He set the bottle down after closing it. "You haven't slept," you said and Spencer shook his head, "don't need to." He said. "That's a lie, you need sleep. You need all the energy you can get and you know that," you said. "I'll sleep when we leave." He said. "Spence, we don't know when that'll be. Please, just- just lay your head on my chest and sleep." You said. Spencer sighed, you were right, he needed sleep and he didn't know how long you two would be here. He reluctantly placed his head on your chest, it wasn't the same when you couldn't play with his hair. But then you started to sing, the lyrics flooding his brain. He could barely relax but it was enough to send him off to sleep.

You fell asleep too, you didn't mean to. You were just so tired, so worn out from struggling. You didn't know how long the two of you slept, nothing happened, the unsub never came it. It was a calm night, it didn't make sense but you decided not to think too much about it. Thinking made your head hurt. You woke up before Spencer, you went to play with his hair but the restraints stopped you. You wanted to cry again, realization had set back in as you remembered where you were. You clenched your first but stayed put, you didn't want to wake spencer. He needed rest, especially if he was going to somehow devise a plan to get the two of you out of there. He was your only hope, you trusted him though. You knew you would be okay.. maybe not now but eventually.

Spencer woke up shortly after you, looking up at you with a smile. He must've forgotten where he was as well. But you saw the realization set in. He was brought back to reality as he looked around the room. Nothing had changed which was good. But that still meant there was nothing to help him escape. Then the familiar buzzing came back. You dreaded that sound more than anything. The unsub walked in, gun in hand. He tossed scissors onto the ground. They were children's scissors, it could do damage but not enough to stop him from shooting. He thought maybe if he could get the scissors into his neck it would stop him but that wouldn't, nothing would stop a mad man from shooting the love of his life. He's learned that the hard way.

"The shirt," the unsub said, pointing the gun at the scissors then at you. Spencer squeezed his eyes shut, "please, I'll do anything if you just let her go." Spencer said. "No, the shirt." The unsub said. "We could make a deal, you- we- please," spencer didn't have a deal to make. He knew what the unsub wanted and he didn't know how to stop it. "Now!" The unsub yelled. Spencer gave in, you didn't cry out this time like you had before when you yelled. When spencer looked at you, he saw you broken, silently sobbing but not begging anymore. He wanted you to beg, he wanted to know you were still fighting, still willing to fight for your life, your purity. But you didn't, you were silent as you cried, eyes squeezing shut.

Spencer sat besides you, he used the scissors at the bottom of your shirt, slowly cutting the fabric. His hands trembled as he struggled to get through the material. He had seen this part of you before but not like this. Not when he was forced to. The unsub walked over to him, looking over his shoulder. "How pretty, beautiful untouched skin." He said. Spencer held the scissors so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Oh come on now," the gun was now to the back of Spencer's head. "You really don't wanna do that, you hurt me, I hurt you. Not enough to kill you, no, no. I would make you watch as i fucking tear her apart. You don't want that do you? You want it to be you, you want to be the one to take her sweet virginity. I know you do." He said, keeping the gun in place, the barrel placed against the back of his head.

"Not like This," spencer whispered. "Not like This? Are you sure about that? You think she's the only one I watch? I've seen you Dr. Spencer Reid. I've seen you, laying in bed, what dumbass keeps the blinds open?" He chuckled, "I watched as you jacked off to porn, to photos of her, she wasn't even nude in them. Scantily clad, but never nude. How perverted are you? I've seen the porn you watch, BDSM? I bet the shackles turn you on." The unsub said. Spencer was heartbroken. He didn't need this side of himself revealed, especially not to you. He would share those things, but not now. "They don't," spencer said. "Why not? You've watched girls suffer and enjoyed it. But not this?" The unsub said. "BDSM is based on consent. This isn't consensual." Spencer said. "I Can make it consensual." The unsub said. The gun was now pointed at you. "Beg," he said. "W-what? Beg for what?" You asked, trying to not let your voice crack but it wasn't working. "Beg him to fuck you, tell him you want it. Make it believable." The unsub said.

You looked at spencer, he couldn't even look at you. He was so ashamed of himself, so hurt and guilty. "P-please f-fuck me," you said, unconvincingly. "Make it believable!" The unsub yelled. There was that sob again, the one that wracked through your body and broke spencer. "P-please fuck me, please spencer, I need you, I want you. Please i want it," you cried, staring at spencer. He shook his head, "I can't, you don't want it. I can't," Spencer said, tears streaming down his face once more. "Fine, if you can't. Then i will!" The unsub shoved spencer out of the way.

You screamed, cried when you felt the unsubs hands on your body. It felt dirty, his hands were rough. You struggled in his grip on your sides. "Spencer, please, please!" You cried out. You couldn't see spencer through the tears in your eyes. But then you heard it. A shot fired and the body of the unsub fell limp on you. You screamed again, "help, help, help," you cried, squirming. You could feel the blood pouring out of the unsub and onto your body. Spencer quickly grabbed the unsubs limp body and moved him off of you. You were sobbing, shaking. Spencer kicked the gun away in case the unsub was able to get up. He grabbed the keys and quickly started to undo the shackles. Once your ankles and hands were free, you hugged spencer, hugged him so tightly you were sure he might not be able to breathe. "We need to get out of here, we need to find a phone," spencer said quickly, pulling back. You looked over at the body but spencer grabbed your face, "Don't look at him, look at me. We need to get out of here. Okay? Can you stand?" He asked. You weren't sure but spencer was already standing, pulling you up with him.

Your head started pounding again but you ignored it, leaning against Spencer's body as he guided you out of the room. He had to practically pull you up the stares. He opened the door, leading the two of you into a house. "I need to find a phone," Spencer said, leaving your side. You leaned back against the wall, falling down to the floor as you cried. You could still feel the unsubs hands on you, you could still see his lifeless body on the floor. The imagine would be engrained in your mind. The feeling of his hands would be burned into your brain. "The team is on there way," spencer said as he got down beside you. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. "We're safe, we'll be safe soon. We're going home. We're gonna get that dog and that cat. We'll take that beach trip." He explained, keeping you close.

You didn't know how long it took for the team to get there. You were too busy shaking and crying in Spencer's arms, replaying the scene in your head over and over again. The door bust open making you flinch, you didn't scream, you didn't have it in you. "Spence, oh my god, spence," JJ said, running over to the two of you. "The ambulance will be here soon, okay?" She said. You couldn't open your eyes but you could hear the team moving through the house. You didn't want to open your eyes, you were so scared you'd see the body again. "Are you okay?" JJ asked. Spencer nodded then looked down at you, "She was hit in the head, im sure she has a concussion." Spencer said. "Is she bleeding?" JJ asked but spencer shook his head, "It's not her blood," he said. JJ was relieved. She loved Spencer and she loved you. Sure, spencer knew her first, but you felt closer to her than anyone else. "Ambulance is here!" Someone called out. "Okay, okay, we need to get you two checked out." JJ said.

Spencer started to move but you cried harder, clinging onto him. "No, no, no-" you cried. "It's okay, we're going to the ambulance. Okay, im staying with you." Spencer said. You reluctantly stood up with him. JJ was on your other side, helping you walk. You never realized how weak you were till now. Your feet drug against the ground, you felt limp, heavy. You hear hung as you walked. You were so tired. They helped you into the ambulance and laid you down. You clung onto Spencer's arm like a lifeline, afraid that if you let go, the unsub would be back, grabbing you, touching you.

"I'm here, I'm not going anywhere," spencer said, grabbing your hand and holding it just as tightly as you were holding his. "I'll meet you two at the hospital," JJ said before leaving the car. Spencer just looked down at you, watching as the EMT's checked you out. You felt a hand on your stomach that wasn't Spencer's and you freaked out. "N-no! Please!" You squeezed your eyes shut. "D-don't touch her there!" Spencer said, shoving the EMTs hand away. "I was checking for bleeding," he said. "That's not her blood! Don't touch her there again!" Spencer was furious, these were the people that were supposed to keep us safe but yet they were making you relive the trauma. "I won't, i wont," The EMT said.

They hooked you up to IVs, checking you for a concussion which you indeed had. "She's dehydrated and in pain. We're giving her morphine. She'll fall asleep soon," The EMT said. Spencer nodded and his eyes never left you. You couldn't open your eyes, the lights were too bright and you were too tired to keep them open. "I'm here, I'm not leaving." Spencer said. You squeezed his hand to indicate you were listening. "Did you hear the doctor? You'll fall asleep soon but I'll be right here. I'm not leaving." You squeezed his hand again. Spencer knew the EMT wasn't a doctor but he wasn't about to make things more difficult for you to understand in your fragile state. You fell asleep soon after he told you what was happening.

Spencer was so tired, struggling to keep his eyes open as he watched you sleep. He refused to sleep, he couldn't bare having you wake up without him being awake as well. The doctors hooked him up to an IV after checking him out. He was fine, dehydrated but fine. He didn't have a concussion like you did, he wasn't stuck in shackles like you were. Sure, he had trauma but nothing as bad as you. He had been through the pain, the gun against the head, but you hadn't. This was all new to you and he knew you were about to go through hell when you woke up. You'd need years of therapy like he did. He worried you'd turn to drugs like he did but he would make sure you didn't. He do anything to help you cope but he wasn't going to let you do anything to hurt yourself.

You woke up after a while, eyes heavy as they opened. "Hey, hey, I'm here," he could see the way your hand moved frantically in search of his. He grabbed your hand and held it tightly. Your eyes finally opened and were met by his. "I wanna go home," was all you said. Spencer nodded, "we'll be home soon." Was all he said. You nodded, turning your head with a soft groan. You looked out the window, it was sunny out. You missed the sun. "I was thinking.. when we get home.. we should book that beach trip." He said. You didn't smile this time though, the beach trip no longer brought you comfort. That was ruined by the unsub. "Or, you know what.. maybe no a beach trip. Maybe somewhere more cozy, secluded. Maybe the mountains?" He said. You turned to face him, furrowing your brows. "I know, I don't have good memories with secluded cabins but i think you could change that. A nice cozy cabin, the rain hitting the windows as we cuddle up by a fire. Watching movies, listening to music, reading books. How does that sound?" He asked. A smile formed on your face, "that sounds perfect," you whispered. "Good, then it's a plan. We can set it up when we get home." He said. "And the dog?" You asked. "We'll look into adoption, same with the cat." He said. You smiled, tears brimming your eyes. "I love you," you said. "I love you too," he responded. He leaned in, giving you a soft kiss, things were hard but you knew with him, you could get through it.

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