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rockingrobin69 · 7 months

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Basic Maths

“Draco said he can’t sleep,” Harry admitted, half-mumbled into his coffee, for some reason blushing over this, mostly concerned, but Ron just hummed and said, “That’s sweet.”

“What?”

“What’s sweet?”

Freckled nose scrunched up. “You said he can’t sleep. Because he misses you. That’s a bit sweet, isn’t it?”

“I never said,” gasping, “Ron, it’s been three days. He can’t be missing me so much after three fucking days.”

The look on his face, exasperated and something else. “Mate.”

“What?”

“You what. Why do you think—no, it’s too early in the morning.” Tapping his shoulder, this tired look that had nothing to do with the fact it was barely six. “Harry, you’re my best mate, but you’re rubbish at this.”

That’s exactly what he was so scared of. Being rubbish at this. He didn’t know how to do—any of this, didn’t know how to, say, think the right words. Worried he’s misinterpreting everything because he’s so desperate for the tiniest of shred of… Enough. Another sip of coffee, miserable: enough.

“Harry,” great, now Ron sounded miserable too, “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” rougher than intended. “It’s fine. Let’s just get to work, all right?”

Ron stared at him for the longest moment, but then he sighed, and his shoulders rolled with it. “All right. We’ll talk about this tonight?”

“Sure thing.”

They won’t.

“And he got me another one, although I specifically said not to,” trying for a pout, ending somewhere like a sigh, rolling his eyes at how ridiculous this man was, and Hermione smiled and said, “What a wanker.”

“Right?” twitching in his seat.

“Absolutely. Getting you the pastry you like even though you specifically told him not to.”

“It’s just, every time we go to his place he—‘Mione, he’s worse than Molly.”

Hermione’s eyebrow arched. “Uh-huh. Worse, you say. Harry, you’ve not stopped smiling all day.”

“What? No I’ve not.” Nonsensically offended. “I’m… just wish I knew what he’s thinking.”

The look in her eyes, something terrible, hot and itchy like pity. “Harry.”

“No, I know, I know. I’m blowing it all out of proportions and it’s not a big deal and it shouldn’t be, right, we’re casual, and we’re friends, and that’s a lot more important. There’s no need to overcomplicate it.”

“Harry—”

“It’s fine.” Coughed until he’s convinced himself too. “It’s fine. Let’s just… eat, yeah?”

He could see she was dying to say it, but thankfully, mercifully, she just grimaced and shook her head. “Fine. You’ll figure this out, won’t you?”

“Yeah. Probably.”

He won’t.

“Then he knocked on the door with the scarf in his hands. Gin, I think he went all the way back just to get it.”

“Mad,” Ginny said and stole another chip from his Styrofoam tub. “No, that man is completely mad, so much is true.”

“Isn’t he just. He was soaking wet—I had to convince him to stay and take a bath while his clothes went in the tumble drier.” Left unsaid: how impossibly soft Draco had looked in Harry’s robe, with his hair curling sweetly and his cheeks all pink. How he curled on Harry’s sofa and watched the telly with an arched eyebrow, obviously not following but still enchantingly caught.

Left unsaid how Harry leaned closer just to smell his own shampoo on Draco, how it squeezed his chest so tight he thought he might die. How lovely, how brilliant, how terrible it was to have him this close and this warm and this wrong.

“Harry,” Ginny’s sigh brought him back to the café, to the bright lights and the ache that still didn’t quite leave his belly, “you’re such a bloody idiot, I could strangle you.”

“Hmm? What? Why!”

“Why. He asks me why. You practically have love-hearts for eyes and here you are asking me why.”

Harry grunted something not-quite in English. “I don’t… it doesn’t matter. How I feel. He’s the one who said about keeping it casual. He’s obviously not—” lost the rest of the sentiment to a sigh, bone-crushing. Ginny was staring at him with an open mouth.

“Doesn’t matter,” she repeated, sounding dazed. “Harry, you berk, just talk to him.”

“We talk all the time.”

“No, I mean, actually talk to him. Why's that so terrifying? You’re meant to be this fairly-brave man, remember?”

Meant to be, was the point exactly. If she asked him to step into a burning house to save him (and not that it was a fantasy that Harry spent so much time dreaming about, in frightening detail)—but this was something else. Harry’s never learned how to… won’t be able to handle this particular loss. After everything, this would be the thing to break him, of that he was sure.

“Just talk to him. You’ll see, everything will be all right.”

It won’t.

“Just wondering if, erm, you know when he’s meant to be back, or…” his voice died into a croak. Pansy, still with her arms crossed, glared.

“No idea. Now, if that’s all.” Going for the door, and Harry’s heart—

“Wait!” with his foot forward, with his chest writhing, “wait, it’s not all. I don’t understand why he’s so angry. What did I do? Pans, please.”

Must have been the tone that got to her, the crack in his voice, because Pansy’s frown softened. “You two will be the death of me. I swear, if I have to listen to him whining one more time—”

“What is he whining about? Why… he looked so miserable. And now I can’t eat anything or get any sleep and I need to know, I need to know why he’s so upset and how to make it right. How do I make it right?”

Pansy’s wide eyes. “What… you’re joking. Why he’s upset? Not even you are that clueless.”

“But what if I am. What if I am, and I’m losing my mind. I miss him so terribly it’s like my belly’s on fire and it’s only been a couple of days and please, I just, don’t understand why he’s angry with me when I’m so bloody—” exhausted, and terrified, and mostly exhausted. Not the lack of sleep: the lack of Draco in his life, the lack of his smile and his snarl and his cologne, and his hair and his eyes and his hands.

“Shit,” Pansy said, something flashing on her face. “You’re bonkers for him too, aren’t you.”

Wasn’t really a question, but Harry still nodded, tragic. Swallowed. Swallowed again. Bonkers for him too. “You’re not trying to say…” but he couldn’t even finish. She was, he thought, trying to say. “Why didn’t he just—tell me? I’ve been—he’s—no, that’s not possible.”

“Not possible,” Pansy said.

“No, no. He would have—I’ve been—for years. He’d have said something. I couldn’t be more obvious if I fucking tried.”

“Have you met Draco?” sneering again. “Our Draco?”

Something like laughter, hot and terrible, itchy up his throat. “Okay, yes, but…” not sure how to, what to, so panicked because he couldn’t face losing him, not Draco, their Draco, his Draco. “How do I make him realise. That I—too. That I, more.”

Sighing dramatically: “I think you know how.”

Already taking a step back, still shaking his head, his whole chest fluttering with giddy panic: “I—I have to—”

“Go, you arsehole,” but she was smiling.

What if Draco refused to speak to him? What if he wouldn’t listen. What if it was too late. What if he didn’t want Harry anymore? Harry tried to breathe.

He couldn’t.

“Idiot,” Draco was laughing, dear and too bright in his arms. “I can’t believe you…”

“I can’t believe you,” delirious with joy, burst open with affection, “you git, why didn’t you just tell me.”

“Beg pardon? Why didn’t you just tell me?”

On the sofa, curled around each other, and this humming in Harry’s ears that could only be contentment, that could only be burning, aching relief. “Dunno. Suppose it was… I couldn’t bring myself to risk it. I was too scared.”

Draco’s eyes were so grey and so close. “I thought I was so obvious. I thought—”

“I know.” Couldn’t believe he just gets to kiss his nose like that. Couldn’t believe Draco’s arms around him or the little sound he made when Harry nuzzled his neck. “We were maybe being a little silly.”

“A little,” Draco said, fondness dancing in his eyes. “Come here.”

Harry would, always, always. “Kiss me, you silly man.”

“Impatient, are we. I’ve only wanted this for, what… what are you doing, you berk!” to Harry, lifting him in the air a bit with the jump and settling again, closer, ever closer. Draco’s laughter rang in his ears, soothed something in his writhing belly.

“We’re not casual,” Harry said. “I’m so serious about you, Draco.”

“Not casual,” he nodded. “Is this what you wanted? Are you happy?”

Too much for words: he was.

(Flufftober day 5. Find the soft AO3 collection here).

#drarry fic #flufftober2023 #prompt: X+ 1 #casual to non-casual #mutual pining while already being in some sort of relationship #just that bottomless hunger for more #it's very soft though #1500 words #rockingrobin69

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juyeonszn · 5 months

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CLUMSY

PAIRING ju haknyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 6.03k

GENRES smut ﹒fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, reader and juhak are bio lab partners, juhak is lowkey a bit of a loser BUT DW HE REDEEMS HIMSELF, mentions of alcohol, a game of rage cage…, he’s down insanely bad, the flirting goes kinda crazy, someone calls the cops, they run from said cops, reader is Nawt wasting any time, pet names (juhak calls reader princess), tbh they’re both switches in some ways, kitchen sex, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, edging, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie lol

SUMMARY when haknyeon ran into you at a tbz party for the first time, he didn’t think he would fall for you so quickly. or literally. or both simultaneously. but there’s a first time for everything, he supposes.

MORE andddddd here we go 🫡 second fic of the black out or back out collab 🙏 i forgot to link the masterlist in the last one so im gonna link it in this one in case u wanna read any of the others!! ANYWAY i had such a fun time writing this one, any excuse i get to write for juhak, i will take trust <3 if u enjoyed, don’t forget to reblog! and pls check out the other fics so far!!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel

TAGLIST @millksea

SERIES MASTERLIST

Okay. So maybe trying to secure a girlfriend at a party wasn’t exactly Haknyeon’s best idea.

But, hey. You had to give him some credit. At least he was making an attempt. Most of his other frat brothers weren’t even making an effort. They seemed perfectly satisfied with charming their ways into random girls’ pants every weekend. Unfortunately, or fortunately considering he was a gentleman, Haknyeon wasn’t into that sort of thing.

It was just a little embarrassing that Kim Sunwoo’s love life had more progress than his own. Sunwoo was literally the resident loser bitch boy of the TBZ house. How was he closer to getting a girlfriend than he was? It made absolutely no sense.

Ju Haknyeon thought of himself as a catch. He was pretty neat, his room was cleaner than most guys’ his age. He knew how to cook basic meals, again, more than the average college sophomore. His car wasn’t on its last leg. (Cough cough… Kim Sunwoo, I’m looking at you.) He was a decent dude. He supported women’s rights and wrongs!

Apparently that was not enough these days.

“…And I need you to make sure the fridge is stocked completely. I’m not trying to drink my coffee without cream tomorrow morning because some idiot drank it while they were drunk.” Sangyeon commands, typing something furiously on his phone as some of the other guys move around the furniture.

“Bruh, I was in charge of buying everything last time. Why can’t someone else do it?” Kevin groans. Something else that wasn’t Haknyeon’s best idea? Walking into the kitchen during this very conversation. “What about JuHak? He looks like he has nothing better to do.”

“Yeah, whatever. That’s fine. Hak, I’m airdropping you the list.” Sangyeon waves his hand in dismissal, returning to his extensive presidential duties.

The sophomore deadpans, but doesn’t have the energy to argue back. You know, the usual fraternity was just a bunch of rich guys with more money than the tuition of each TBZ brother combined. However, the Tau Beta Zeta house was not your usual fraternity. It really was just a bunch of normal dudes thrown together. Though, Lee Sangyeon ran it like it was the fucking Navy.

Haknyeon accepts his defeat and grabs his things, heading out to the supermarket to shop for tonight’s party. Alcohol duty sucked more than door duty, in his opinion. You were sent out all alone, tasked with bringing back enough liquor and beer to last until early hours of the morning. It was a near impossible mission, unless you were Kevin Moon and good at practically everything in the world.

He pushes around the shopping cart mindlessly, though he knows he’ll have to make another trip. A long sigh leaves his lips as he enters the alcohol aisle. He fills the bottom of the cart with different cases of beer until he thinks he may drop one, and then starts to place things in the basket. He feels like a dumbass hauling it over to the registers, like everyone can see right through him.

He has to remind himself that this is for a good cause, that it’ll be worth it when everyone is enjoying themselves at the party. His actions won’t be in vain. Even after the second trip with another cart full of beer and various liquor bottles, Haknyeon keeps repeating affirmations in his head. This has to be the party.

In fact, he thinks his thoughts have manifested into reality when he sees you walking into the grocery store at the same time he’s leaving. You’re his pretty Bio lab partner. He’s always too nervous to hold a substantial conversation with you, so he settles for the bare minimum, which is unfulfilling small talk during your labs. It’s never what he needs though. Aside from your name, Haknyeon knows nothing about you.

“Y/N?” What he wants right now, however, is to shoot himself in the foot for sounding so unsure.

You glance up from your phone, a smile lighting up your face when you recognize him. “Haknyeon! Hey! What’s up?”

“Last minute preparations for the TBZ party tonight,” he gestures at his shopping cart with pursed lips. “You?”

“That’s so funny that you say that! My friends and I are going—“ You eye his cart with confusion. “Wait, I didn’t know you were in Tau Beta Zeta.”

“Yeah…” Haknyeon laughs awkwardly. “Surprise!”

You giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the frat boy type. Then again, TBZ isn’t your average frat so, I guess that kinda adds up.”

Haknyeon’s not sure if he should take that as a compliment or not, but since it’s coming from you, he decides that he will. The realization that you mentioned you’d be attending the party finally sets in at that same moment. “So, I’ll see you later, then?”

You nod, smile widening. “Yeah, I’m just grabbing a bottle for us to bring with. But I’ll be there. Maybe we’ll bump into each other.”

God, he hopes so. This is the perfect opportunity for him to swoop in and learn everything he’s been dying to know about you. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know… I’m a busy man. It might be a little hard.”

That cute little laugh of yours makes another appearance. “I’ll be on the lookout, don’t worry. See you tonight, Haknyeon.”

Ju Haknyeon thinks that he must’ve done something monumental in a past life, like saving a dog from a burning building or stopping a world war. How else would the universe reward him this kindly? All he can do is wave as you maneuver around an elderly couple passing by into the store.

Maybe Kevin Moon wasn’t that bad. And maybe Lee Sangyeon wasn’t as big of a tyrant as he made him out to be. He could actually kiss the ground they walked on for forcing him into alcohol duty. If it weren’t for them, he wouldn’t have ran into you and he wouldn’t have known you were attending the party. Now he has something to look forward to that isn't getting shitfaced.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Haknyeon looks away from his mirror, Hyunjae standing in the doorway. He has a cringe on his face at the sight of his outfit. It wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever worn, but it was… a bit too much. A black button up and black slacks was admittedly not the best frat party fit. The only good thing he had going for him was his hair that was styled for once, parted so his bangs framed his face nicely.

“This girl I’m kinda into is coming tonight. I need to look irresistible.” The younger explains, arms flailing at his sides.

“Okay, well you won’t accomplish that in this,” Hyunjae snorts, digging through his closet. “If she’s into you too, she won’t care what you’re wearing. Just throw on something you’d normally wear. Like… this! This is nice.”

Hyunjae holds up a black t-shirt and a black-washed denim jacket. Haknyeon hums. It was simple, but also once he put it on he wouldn’t feel like a douchebag, which was the whole goal here. Paired with some khaki cargo pants, he’s found a winner. He begrudgingly thanks his senior for the assistance, shooing him out of his bedroom so he can mentally prepare for the night ahead of him.

He doesn’t even know what to bring up now that he really tosses the idea around in his head. Yeah, he wants to learn more about you and what you’re like outside of your Bio lab, but specifically what he couldn’t say. Haknyeon was starting to feel like a lost cause. He had to clutch up tonight. He had to woo you so much that you had no choice but to fall for his cute face and endearing personality. But how was he meant to do that if he couldn’t even come up with topics to talk with you about?

Maybe he was just thinking too far into things. Perhaps he should just let it all go with the flow. Moving at an au natural pace was probably his best bet in comparison to Sunwoo’s soccer ball plan. (He’s still confused how that worked in his favor.)

Before he knows it, the party is swinging into full effect. This is the first time Haknyeon’s ever been so socially aware of his surroundings. He had a habit of blurring his atmosphere at these things, more interested in getting drunk with his buddies than paying attention to the attendees. As he stands in a corner of the living room, listening to Chanhee complain about treasurer stuff, he watches each and every person who enters the house.

When you finally do walk in, he has to physically stop himself from choking on the beer in his cup, biting the rim of the plastic in a weak attempt to sedate himself. If he thought you were gorgeous before in a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, he doesn’t know what to call you now. You’re laughing at something one of your friends said, dolled up in a black mini skirt and a black cropped halter top while hugging a bottle of Pink Whitney to your chest. He could probably pass out right here right now.

He almost does, but then Chanhee is slapping his back aggressively. “Wipe the drool off of your chin. God, am I the only one who still has a brain?”

“Shut the fuck up, Chanhee, go cry about your life somewhere else.” Haknyeon dismisses his senior, downing the rest of his drink for some liquid courage. Though he is, he doesn’t want to seem too desperate, so he’s not going up to you this quickly. Instead, he heads into the kitchen to get another drink, rolling his neck like he’s preparing for the biggest win of the century.

It’s as he’s pouring some jungle juice into a fresh cup that you see him. A smile similar to the one from the store graces your features. There was only one person with a back like that, and it was your cute lab partner. You keep an arm wrapped around your bottle, tapping his shoulder lightly. He spins around confusedly, but the expression morphs into pleasant surprise immediately after.

“Pink Whitney? Easy choice,” he points at the bottle in your grasp. “Are you a lightweight, Y/N?”

Your cheeks warm up at the teasing remark. Upon first meeting, Haknyeon’s been an awkward mess around you. You can only assume the confidence stems from the fact that he’s within his element. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were implying that you want me to get you drunk.” He tucks a hand into one of his jacket pockets, the other bringing his cup to his mouth. He’s unconscious of the source of this sudden bravery, but he prays it doesn’t fade off anytime soon.

“Maybe I do…” You bite your lip, undoing the seal of the Pink Whitney bottle to take a sip. It burns your throat slightly. “I’ve never hung out with a frat boy before. I kinda wanna see what the hype is all about.”

Haknyeon thinks he might pass out again, because if he wasn’t so acutely aware of your entire interaction, he would think you’re flirting with him. Friendliness was a double edged sword in this day and age. But who knows, maybe you are flirting. You showed up with your friends but they were nowhere to be found now. He needed to take advantage of the opening.

It’s around this time that Younghoon and Juyeon are bringing out the fated beer pong table, a crowd already beginning to form nearby. He feels sorry for the poor suckers who have to play Changmin and his girlfriend.

“We should play beer pong!” You suggest, watching the pair of taller guys setting up the cups over his shoulder. Haknyeon can sense the color draining from his face. If it had been anyone else, he would’ve shut the idea down insanely fast, but because it was you, he was genuinely contemplating. Those who went up against the infamous TBZ party beer pong champions were in for a rude awakening, but if you wanted to...

“Uh—“ He starts but then he’s interrupted.

“Yo! Who’s down to play Rage Cage?!”

Juyeon’s voice is somehow louder than the music, carrying into the kitchen where the two of you stand. Haknyeon wasn’t the greatest Rage Cage player, but he enjoyed it a hell of a lot more than beer pong. Especially when he stood beside people who didn’t understand the concept of the game.

You chug some more Pink Whitney, batting your eyelashes up at Haknyeon. “I’ve never played Rage Cage. Is it fun?”

“If you’re next to the right people it can be, but if you aren’t, then it’s a whole lot of drinking. We haven’t played Rage Cage at a TBZ party in a while, but the last time we did Eric Sohn almost had to get his stomach pumped.” He laughs a little at the memory of his friend spending the rest of his night cuddling with a toilet seat. The mental picture overshadows how enticing you look right now.

“Do you think you can teach me?” You ask sweetly, hoping that he takes the hint. He seemed like the type of guy who wouldn’t make the first move unless you forced him to, so it appeared that you had your work cut out for you.

“You wanna play?” He turns to you with wide eyes, almost as if he hadn’t expected you to show interest in the game. You give him a small nod, tucking some hair behind your ear. The truth of the matter was that you were a fucking liar. You’ve played Rage Cage plenty of times in the past. You were actually pretty decent at it, too. You just needed an excuse to spend the night around him.

“We better head over there now. It looks like the table is filling up.” You jab your pinkie in that general direction. Haknyeon blows a raspberry and leads you that way, his hand resting on the small of your back so he won’t lose you in the pack of people surrounding the table.

“Forewarning, my rap sheet doesn’t really read World Class Rage Cage Champ,” he laughs nervously, the anxiety beginning to eat at him all over again. “But I promise, I won’t let you get stacked.”

When Haknyeon said he wasn’t the worst, but wasn’t good at Rage Cage, you took his word. Except he severely overplayed his own skill. Maybe he was just extremely on edge and it threw off his game, but the amount of times he was stacked on was a little comical. At the very least, he kept his promise. You hadn’t got stacked once, but that was also only because Haknyeon would drink for you every time you almost did.

The room is sort of spinning by the time the first game has finished. Playing a drinking game while he’s trying to get to know you better was probably at the higher portion of his ‘BAD IDEAS!!!’ list. If he wasn’t so eager to please and followed along to each of your suggestions, perhaps he’d be having a different conversation. That was not the case, though.

You can’t help but feel a little guilty for the turn out. All you’d wanted was to flirt with your lab partner, possibly end the night with some making out. As it was looking, that’s not the path you were heading down, but rather towards the kitchen for some water to sober him up some. Your bottle of Pink Whitney is long lost, replaced with a bottle of H2O. You hold his chin, tilting it back slightly to pour some into his mouth.

If he hadn’t already had the fattest crush on you, he definitely did now. Pretty and nice? You were the total package. Here you were, nursing him back to sobriety when you could’ve been out and about enjoying yourself with your friends. Up this close, he gets a detailed look at you. It’s so weird for him to think about how much he’s pined after you since the start of the semester, how much he’s admired the face that’s looking at him with this unfamiliar tenderness. He never thought he stood a chance. You know, that whole ‘nice guys finish last’ pick me boy vibe.

“Y/N—” He’s cut short, Juyeon’s voluminous voice resonating throughout the house again, sans the music.

“Everybody who isn’t Tau Beta Zeta, get the fuck out! Someone called the cops!”

Of course. Nobody ever calls the cops on a TBZ party but of fucking course the one time Haknyeon gets shoot his shot with you, someone narcs. He actually thinks he might die. He might keel over and die in the middle of this party while the cops are raiding the place. Lee Sangyeon is gonna be thrown in the back of a police cruiser for letting people drink underage and then send them his way because he bought all of the alcohol. This was just his luck.

Without a word, you grab his hand and drag him out through the back door. You follow the flock of other party goers escaping the wrath of the police. It’s difficult to run in a mini skirt and strappy heels, but you don’t really have room to whine about it. Haknyeon doesn’t know if there’s ever a right time to tell you that you could’ve just gone up to his room, but figures it’s too late when you're hopping the short fence that goes out to the main street of Greek Row.

One would think that he’d sobered up at this point since he was, you know, on the run from the law. Yet for some reason Ju Haknyeon himself doesn’t even know, he’s still feeling the effects of the alcohol, tripping over that stupid fucking fence and falling flat on his face. Thankfully, he lands on the grassy part just before the sidewalk, but it doesn’t make the situation any less embarrassing.

You don’t give him recovery time, pulling him to his feet. He holds a hand to the side of his face that received the harshest of the impact, expecting to wake up to a nasty bruise tomorrow. He’s also unsure where exactly you’re taking him, but is afraid of asking out of fear that you’ll send his ass back to the frat house and have him arrested or something. (He had a bad habit of over complicating situations and coming up with the worst possible scenarios.)

Once the commotion has died out and there’s no one else around, you slow your pace. You turn to face him with a grin, holding both of his hands in yours as you walk backwards. “Are you cool with staying the night at my place?”

Truly, Haknyeon needs to know what act of nobility he committed in his previous life. He needs to go back in time and thank himself for whatever it was. Even with fumble after fumble, he was somehow bouncing back and receiving major compensation for sticking it out. He swallows thickly, nodding dumbly when he realizes he hasn’t given you a proper response.

“Um… Yeah— I mean— yes. That’s fine. That’s totally fine.” He word-vomits, stumbling over his tongue rather than his feet. Being down bad was one of his strongest personality traits. And being clumsy was second strongest, so you don't even have to imagine how terrible a combination of both would be.

The walk to your apartment knocks any lingering inebriation out of his system. He’s entirely too hyper aware of what’s happening as you guide him in that direction. It’s cooler out, the temperature dropping in the nighttime as the end of the semester approaches. If there was another reason to be grateful for this party, it was because he no longer had to worry about not making a move before your last lab together. As much as he despised Biology, he’d take it every day if it meant getting to see you.

He actually feels like he may throw up as you reach your place, his hands sticking into the pockets of his jacket to hide the clamminess of his palms. His nerves are creeping up on him once more, a dark cloud looming over him. He shouldn’t be this jumpy at this point of the night. He should be composed, prepared to sweep you off your feet after spending so much time with you. Why the hell is he sweating bullets right now?

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you curtsy. “Would you like something to drink? Water, maybe?”

“Th-That would be great,” Haknyeon forces out, waddling behind you into the kitchen like a baby duckling following its mother. “You have a nice apartment.”

“Really? Thank you!” You can’t help but giggle at his jitters and the way he keeps rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. A sense of déjà vu rushes over you when you pass him a cup. “Living alone has its perks, I guess. I like that I don’t have to argue with anyone about how to decorate and things like that.”

“It sounds a lot more enjoyable than living with a bunch of men in their early twenties,” he smiles weakly as he accepts the glass of water from you. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how thin the walls are in that house.”

“Do they have sex often?” You ask him bluntly, head cocking to the side almost innocently. He chokes on the water he just sipped, nearly spilling it onto the floor.

“W-What?” He sputters.

“I’m assuming that’s what you’re talking about,” you shrug, facing away from him so you can grab yourself something to drink, also. “We should get back at them.”

You don’t know how many more bones you can throw for him to understand what you're insinuating. Even the frat boy comment you made earlier was intentional. Haknyeon’s mouth goes dry and his eyes widen like a cartoon character’s. What the fuck?

“I’ve never brought a girl back to the house before, because I don’t want them to make fun of me or something— not that I’m saying I would take you back to the house! I mean I just would feel bad if you also got made fun of— not that I’m referring to having sex with you or anything!” The glass in his hands is on the verge of slipping from his grip. “Not that I don’t want to have sex with you— oh my god— um wow, that’s a very lovely fruit bowl you have there I—“

“Hak,” you interject his rambling, wearing a mischievous smile.

The nickname drives him fucking insane. Scratch him possibly dying. If he isn’t dead by the end of the night, he’ll be shocked. Perplexed. Perturbed. Puzzled. Any shock-adjacent synonym you can think of. That will be him. “Y-Yes?”

“Can you shut up and kiss me already?”

Honestly, you don’t have to ask him twice. His lips are on yours in seconds, fingers fisting the material of your skirt at your hips to steel himself. You moan in response to the sheer frenzy behind his actions. It’s so easy to lose yourself in the haste of it; the way you tug at his hair, the blunt edges of his nails digging into your sides, the near clashing of your teeth. He nibbles at your bottom lip, sighing when you allow his tongue to permeate your mouth. He’s content to do nothing but this, kissing you is enough to satiate the desire he’s harbored for you for months. However, with the franticness of your kiss, he knows you want more.

He inches you both backwards until your lower back hits the counter, and then he’s cupping beneath your thighs to hoist you up. His strength sends tidal waves pulsing throughout your whole being, hurriedly pushing the material of his denim jacket off of his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor without a care. Your hands travel south as his lips trail along your jaw and neck, sucking and biting your supple skin wherever he feels fit. He hisses into the dip where your collarbone meets your shoulder when you palm him through his pants.

“Fuck, babe, you want me bad, don’t you?” He mutters into the column of your throat, teeth sinking into the flesh after.

“Mhmm,” you whine, craning your neck to give him more access to the surface. It’s like a switch has flipped in him and it turns you on unbearably. This is what you’ve been trying to coax out of him all night.

Haknyeon pries apart your legs, slotting himself between them so he can sneak his fingers beneath your skirt. His thumb rubs tight circles into your clothed clit, the lace of your underwear damp with your arousal. He connects your lips again, groaning into your kiss when he moves the fabric aside and slides his knuckle through your folds. You buck up your hips, whimpering when he holds them down with his forearm.

“Want more,” you gasp when he applies a bit of pressure to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“‘More’ what? Use your words, princess,” he instructs, tracing your entrance with his ring finger.

You shake your head because you’re not even sure what it is that you want. You just know that this isn’t enough to quell the hunger burning at your chest. It’s not nearly sufficient to fan the flames in the depths of your heart or the ache in the pit of your abdomen. You need him everywhere. It’s beyond him being your cute Bio lab partner now.

He urges you onto your elbows, pecking the plane of your stomach. He pushes up your skirt and discards your panties, baring you to the cool air of your apartment. Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your clit gently. Your head is light and airy and it’s like you’re on cloud nine. Haknyeon hums against you, pulling off to scold you.

“Eyes open, baby,” he nudges his nose on your pelvic bone. “Want you to watch me eat you out.”

The moan you release is strained, like it had been confined in the back of your throat for ages until this moment. He flattens his tongue and licks a line from your hole to your clit, suckling the engorged skin and repeating. Your eyelids are heavy, keeping your intense gaze on him as he all but makes out with your pussy. He focuses his mouth on your clit and slips his middle finger into you. He pumps it in and out languidly, setting a rhythm that matches each swirl of his tongue around your clit.

The whole scene still feels unreal to both of you, like you might wake up from a wet dream or something. How was it possible that Ju Haknyeon was finger fucking you on your kitchen counter? Just a couple days ago, you were sitting side by side in your Biology lab, too nervous to initiate a substantial conversation. You’d think it would be harder to slob on someone’s knob than it would be to talk to them while wearing a fuckass lab coat and goggles.

Haknyeon works his forearm up, pinning down your thighs so your cunt is fully accessible. He adds a second finger to the mix, thrusting them at a higher speed and increasing the unrelenting sucking of your bundle of nerves. He can tell you’re creeping closer towards your climax with the way your walls clench around him and your hips continue to jerk up. And considering the kind of person he was, you figured he would aid you rather than hinder you. But you figured wrong.

He slows his assault, removing his mouth from your clit and leaving the stimulation at just his two fingers. You whine, lip quivering when he looks up into your eyes.

“W-Why are you— what are you doing?” You plead, hating the tone of your voice. The tables have turned, with you sitting beside desperation. This is so unlike you— so unlike the usual domineering aura you exude during sex— your body reacting differently to the power falling through the cracks within your grasp.

“Don’t you wanna savor the moment, princess?” He sounds so cocky, a far cry from the wavering confidence you’d always seen out of him. He kisses the skin of your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the area you need him most, all the while he continues curling and uncurling his fingers.

The precipice of your orgasm is right there, you can almost taste it on the tip of your tongue. But Haknyeon holds it just out of reach, dangling it in your face like teasing a dog with a chew toy. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, a false sense of hedonism building and building, then slowly ebbing away each time he retracts. You open your mouth, but no sound comes out.

Just when you’ve given up hope, he adds a third finger and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. The sudden and unexpected intrusion snaps that familiar cord in half, blinding you with white hot pleasure. The groan that escapes from the base of your chest is guttural, echoing throughout the kitchen. You don’t have it in you to worry about waking your neighbors, especially not when you feel the curve of a smile against your cunt, such an uncharacteristic response from Haknyeon.

Your legs spasm as the height of your orgasm calms. You pull him down for a wanton kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair. He laughs at the role swap, hands flat on the counter to hold him over you. “Feel good?”

“So good, Hak,” you murmur into his lips. “Think you can fuck me like that next?”

“So impatient,” he snickers, pecking along your jaw once more. “But since you’ve been so good for me, I think it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

You clumsily undo the button and zipper of his cargoes, pushing them down with your foot. He steps out of them and kicks them away while simultaneously removing his t-shirt. You take your top off and shimmy out of your skirt, raising an eyebrow at the narrowed look in his eyes. “What?”

“Do you have a condom?”

“No,” you poke your cheek with your tongue. “But, I don’t care if you wear one. I’d rather feel you raw, anyway.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder. “God, you’re killing me. Okay.”

He shoves down his briefs and you have to stop yourself from gawking at his size. While he wasn’t the biggest, he was definitely bigger than anyone else you’ve ever been with. He pumps himself a couple times, guiding his length to your entrance and throwing his head back when the tip presses into you. This was really happening, holy shit. Ju Haknyeon was actually having sex with you.

Your toes curl and you stab your nails into your palms to distract from the stinging stretch. He eases into you with the occasional grunt, minding your expressions for any signs of discomfort. When all he sees is your features contorted to display pleasure, he resumes. By the time he’s bottomed out completely, both of you are moaning messes. You feel so full, stuffed to the brim with the weight of his cock.

“I’ve wanted to be inside of you for so fucking long,” he admits, speaking the words into your sticky skin as he drags himself out only to piston back in. The action throttles you a bit, your eyes tempted to roll to the back of your head from how fucking good it feels. You can’t conjure coherent thoughts to properly convey how many endorphins are coursing through your veins.

Haknyeon sets a pace that combines the perfect amount of speed and depth, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep in your cunt. Your brain is hazy and your vision blurs, hardly able to see anything in front of you. His mouth attaches to the pulse point on your neck, ensuring he bruises the area.

“Y-You’re— fuck— you’re s-so deep, Hak. I can feel you all over,” you wail, bringing one of his hands to tamp your lower stomach. The pressure contributes to the growing tension of your second orgasm, something you know will collide into you with even more exertion than the first.

“Yeah? You’re taking me s-so well, baby. No one else has ever fucked you this good, right?” Sweat beads on his hairline, dripping down his temples with every thrust of his hips and every drive of his cock into your sweet pussy. Even if he really did somehow manage to die tonight, he could do it with integrity. He could go out with the honor of a fallen soldier knowing that he got to experience this at least once in his life.

He hikes one of your knees up to your chest, burying his dick deeper if humanly possible. You arch your back, pushing into his chest to minimize the space between you, antsy at the promise of another release as mind blowing as the last. He brings you to the edge of the counter so you’re now hip to hip. Haknyeon snakes a hand in the middle of your bodies, using his thumb to rub circles into your clit. That stimulation coupled with the depth of his cock encourages the fluttering of your walls, in turn drawing out the state of bliss you’ve been chasing.

Your vision goes blank, stars painting the behinds of your eyelids. A second orgasm crests upon you and evokes a moan so pornographic, it sounds far away from you. It’s a dreamlike euphoria, an almost out of body experience that puts every other orgasm to shame. The surface of your skin is hot to the touch.

“Where do you want me, princess?” Haknyeon asks breathily. In the calamity of your own release, you nearly forgot about his until you register the twitching inside of you. It pauses the static in your ears, returning the volume of the world to its normality.

“Cum inside of me,” you whine, the overstimulation becoming too much to handle. He doesn’t need to be told another time, grip tightening on your thigh as he spills into your cunt.

The two of you stay still for a moment, allowing clarity to flow into your brains. You wince when he finally has half the mind to pull out, his nose scrunching up at the sensitivity. He slides his underwear back on, extremely conscious of how naked he is right now. He has an inkling that you were anticipating that this would happen, because why else would you ask him to stay over tonight? But, he is the Ju Haknyeon that you’ve sat next to this entire semester in your Biology lab. So he couldn’t just march forward without a little overthinking and self deprecation.

“Do you still want me to stay?” His voice has reverted back to that small, unsure tone. You sit up quickly, alarmed by the twinge of disappointment underneath it.

“Of course, I do,” you pout, kissing his cheek and lacing your fingers together. “I’ve had a crush on you since the beginning of the year, Hak. Sure, maybe I skipped a couple steps in between, but I have wanted this so badly— I have wanted you so badly— for you don’t even know how long.”

He chuckles, tucking some hair behind your ear. He leaves a sweet kiss on your lips, softer and gentler than the ones from earlier that night. He’s intentional with the way he glides them in harmony, like he was following the melody of the most beautiful song. “Oh trust me, I think I have an idea.”

#deoboyznet #the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz haknyeon #tbz haknyeon #ju haknyeon x reader #ju haknyeon smut #haknyeon x reader #haknyeon smut #juyeonszn #blackoutorbackout🍻

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seungmoonandstars · 1 month

Text

𝐼’𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒

Kim Seungmin/female reader

wc: 1.8k

synopsis: someone is cheating // pt 1

rating: mature/angst ꩜ (contains: aggression, confrontation)

⤜ · · ♡ · · →

3pm

SM: I won’t be back until Sunday, love, but I’ll call you tonight before you fall asleep! Hopefully I can catch you before you do

YN: it’s okay, Min. I’ll be here, and I’ll be up for a while

SM: I’ll text first just in case

YN: ♥️

12:30am

SM: sleeping?

11am

SM: I’m sorry I missed you last night, we can try again today!

2pm

SM: babe, you know I hate double triple quadruple texting you. Are you okay?

· · ♡ · ·

Saturday, 10:30pm

Seungmin struggles for a moment with his key, but manages without dropping his bags. The door swings open, and he’s greeted by a dark foyer, a dark living room, and a single faint light coming from the kitchen. And it’s too quiet—no tv left on, no music playing to fill the silence, like usual. It’s a little warm inside, and it was a warm day, but Seungmin can feel a breeze coming in from one open window.

“I’m home,” he calls out softly, and his voice carries down the hall and into the open door of the bedroom. But the apartment is empty. You’re not here.

He looks down at his phone, opens his texts, and types. His face falls slowly as he figures out another message to send to you. Seungmin has been away a lot lately, and things have felt strained, but you always answer, eventually, even if it’s hours later. You’ve never been silent for more than a day, and now it’s going on two.

sm: hi love, I’m home early

After making sure you’re not just sound asleep in bed, he starts to type one more message. But he stops himself, and instead he starts to unpack his things.

A few minutes later, his phone buzzes.

yn: hey, I’m so sorry sweetie. I’ll be home soon. I went out with some friends and my phone died

He sighs, relieved to finally hear from you. But he doesn’t reply right away; he waits until he empties his bag, showers, get dressed, and makes himself tea.

The lock clicks and the door swings open just as he reaches for his phone.

“Minnie!” You run to him and he opens his arms to hold you against him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

He fights with questioning your absence—not from the house, but from answering his texts, and decides to wait. Right now, he wants to sit down with you and relax; talk; catch up. Maybe that will reveal the answers without him having to ask—he hopes it will, because it’s slowly starting to eat at him.

· · ♡ · ·

“We traveled all day today, a lot of driving, so it was a little hectic.” He curls up on the couch and hugs his knees tights to his chest. “I missed talking to you last night.”

“I guess I was more tired than I thought”

“But I’m here now”

Seungmin’s little nod, his hesitant smile…you missed him so much, and you’re not sure you can even begin to tell him just how much. You crawl across the couch and kneel in front of him. “You’re here”

The kiss you give him is returned, but it’s as hesitant as his smile.

“What’s wrong, Min?”

He shakes his head, “nothing…I’m okay, uhm…”

“You can tell me, you know that”

Yes, he can. The two of you tell each other everything, and as far as Seungmin knows, there are no secrets between you. So why does he suddenly feel so uneasy? “Just too tired to think straight. Maybe we should go to bed.”

“Yeah, let’s go to bed. Clean sheets and everything, all ready for you.”

· · ♡ · ·

Weeks pass, and eventually, Seungmin feels better—less worried, less unsure about things. It’s not completely gone, though. Every hour that passes without a reply from you makes his heart sink a little more. But then you do reply, and everything is fine for a while. Communication between you has changed…just a little bit, but enough.

It’s turning into a vicious cycle, and it’s not good for his head right now. He feels distracted from his work.

Seungmin video calls you on his way home a few days later. You don’t answer.

Coming home is like deja vu. Dark, though not quite as dark this time. The tv is on, and so is the bedroom light. Seungmin can hear the shower running when he closes the door. He’s relieved he doesn’t have to worry like last time, and for some reason, even though so much is still eating at him, being home feels good, and everything feels okay. You’re home and waiting for him, and maybe you haven’t been in much of a talking mood lately.

That’s all this is. Everything is good.

He hears his phone buzz and feels for it in his back pocket, but it’s not him. Yours is sitting on the kitchen counter, right next to the coffee you were drinking not long ago. It doesn’t seem out of place of him to look at the notification on your screen, because he’s done it before—you don’t hide anything from each other. But this time he isn’t sure of what he’s seeing. It’s not a text notif, or Instagram, or twitter. It’s not KakaoTalk, which he knows you use, just not much. This one is from Line, and the sender is a name you don’t recognize: 민수

Maybe it’s a coworker, or a client. You know so many people through your work, and Seungmin knows that. But the message is right there…two of them.

민수: I hope you had a good time...I did! I’ll see you again soon

The second message is a ❤️. The same red heart you always send to him. Seungmin feels every drop of blood drain from him, and he feels like he’s falling, but he’s not. His feet are somehow still flat on the floor, and his hand trembles as he touches your screen—he wants to see it and read it one more time, just in case he read it wrong.

The shower stops, and in the time it takes you to get yourself dressed, Seungmin doesn’t move. He’s rooted to this spot, and he’s sure if he takes a single step, he’ll crumble, and he won’t be able to put himself back together again.

“Minnie?”

Your voice echoes in his head.

“Seungmin, baby, you’re home…what—“

He sees your eyes move and glance at your phone on the counter, and then they’re back on his.

“What’s wrong?”

Why can’t he speak? His mouth drops open and nothing comes out, but inside he’s screaming, picking something up and throwing it against the wall, jumping on you and shaking you until you tell him…

“Why?” Is all he manages.

“Why what? Is everything okay? Seungmin, you look so pale…”

His fist clenches behind his back. “I know I haven’t been around much lately…more than lately. But I’m trying. I try so hard to be with you…when I’m away. I thought I was…” he stops and takes a stuttering breath, and his nails dig so hard into his palm, it feels like he’s breaking skin, “…doing okay.”

“Seungmin, you do better than okay”

“Where have you been? You never answer my calls anymore. You hardly text back, and when you do…it’s hours later.”

“You’re right, I’ve been really bad at this for the last few weeks”

“Who is Minsoo?”

There's silence for far longer than either of you intend, but breaking it is impossible. Seungmin said it out loud, he had to, and now things will play out exactly as they should.

But the silence is as much of an answer as he needs. He turns to your phone and picks it up, looks at the messages again. The heart was sent an hour ago, right after you left wherever you were, got home, made coffee, got in the shower. Seungmin wonders what clothes are lying on the bathroom floor right now, and his eyes sting with tears at what his mind creates.

The metal frame of the phone gives a little under his grip, and it gives in completely when it meets the wall between you. The sound is intense—the crunch of glass, the crumble of drywall. Seungmin is strong when he’s not angry, and right now he’s more than that. He’s pissed, and he’s confused.

“Why?” His hand runs through his hair and stays there as he stares at the remnants of your phone; one half of the lifeline between you when he’s gone. “Answer me.”

You jump again, despite the eerie softness of his voice. You have no answer for him, and even if you did, it wouldn’t change a thing right now. “Minnie, I love you.”

“You love me?”

He takes a few steps toward you, and you move back just as many. Seungmin has never given you any reason to fear him, and he’s never argued or fought. You don’t know anyone nearly as level-headed and calm as him, but you’ve also never done anything this stupid before.

“I do, more than anything.”

This time you stay put when he closes the gap, because something has to happen, and there’s nowhere else to go. It’s you, it’s Seungmin, and it’s the wall behind you.

His hands come up, close around your cheeks, and his thumbs run over them so sweetly, “you love me…but, you fucked someone else?”

“I didn’t. Seungmin, I didn’t. Please.”

“You've been ignoring me for another man. Pouring yourself out to him? Telling him things, telling him how you feel being all alone in bed all the time because your boyfriend is never here for you.”

“No. No, Seungmin.”

His touch on you tightens, just for a moment, as he matches the intensity of your gaze. And then he relaxes and lets go. You stay quiet as he grabs his bag and disappears into the bedroom, and you brace yourself for a slam that doesn’t come. There may be no coming back after this, and you know that. It didn’t cross your mind what might happen if a night like this came, because you weren’t sure if what you were doing, at least initially, was that wrong. But things spiraled, and you spiraled with them, and you let your isolation get the better of you.

You should have stopped when the messages got more frequent; when you felt guilty texting Seungmin at the same time as him; ignoring a phone call when you were with him.

Seungmin flies by you and heads for the door.

“Please don’t leave, Minnie, I need you”

“You need me?” He pulls his shoes on and takes his time re-lacing them. “I needed you, too. Every time I text you goodnight, or facetime you, I do it for a reason.”

“I know. I fucked up.”

“Because it’s lonely being away, even when I’m surrounded by people. Did I ever tell you that?”

“No”

“That much is my fault then, but I didn’t think I had to tell you.” He picks up both of his bags and opens the door.

“Where are you going?”

“My dorm,” he looks back once more with his hand on the doorknob, but says nothing.

“I love you…I love you, Min”

“Goodnight”

#kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x y/n #seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin fanfic #kim seungmin #seungmin fanfic #kim seungmin angst #seungmin angst #skz seungmin x reader #skz seungmin #skz x reader #skz angst #skz fanfic #stray kids seungmin #stray kids angst

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Note

i can’t get this eren brainrot out of my head so i’m putting it here 🫶🏾 like just imagine rapper eren noticing y/n being upset about something, maybe it was a mess up at her shoot or a couple hate comments about her under an insta post and eren is just not having it. he’s gonna buy that girl enough roses to fill up the living room, probably make a couple secret fan accounts for her and spam her comments with some love and then fuck her nice and slow at the end of the day <333

godddddd I love this! tsym!!! Like when I tell you, y’all are gonna have to pry this pairing from my hands..😭

cw: !black fem reader, hate comments, hand holding, missionary, pussy eating, crying (not dacryphilia though), (heavy) praise kink, affirmation, tub/shower sex

there were so many things that came with being a public figure..having to maintain your image at all times, looking nothing less than extraordinary. Making sure to say the right things to avoid falling under public scrutiny and always presenting the best version of yourself. Even so, with all that criteria being met…sometimes it still wasn’t enough! (Y/N) (L/N) understood that shit all too well. As someone who made their living off of social media, it was all but inevitable to be immersed in the virtual world but some days, you just wanted to deactivate everyone of those accounts and disappear..today was one of those damn days!

Starting off like any other, you decided to take a quick scroll through your feed, queue a couple posts and check your mentions. It was then that you’d be bombarded by hate comments…nasty trolls calling you all types of hurtful names. Saying everything from your body being fake, to you being a slut because of your provocative pictures to even saying your husband should leave you. Which really set you over the edge. Normally, you’d be able to block that ignorance out, both literally and figuratively but they were laying it on thick and your patience wore thin in return. So much so, you had a very short temper today. It wasn’t intentional but you really didn’t want to deal with anyone today..including your loving husband, Eren. Who had merely asked what was wrong, even cracking a couple jokes before you inevitably snapped at him, which he knew was completely out of character. “I’m fine, Eren..please, just go away and let me sleep..” Anyone else would’ve been met with equal energy and an attitude but he had never seen you so down and depressed. Which he just couldn’t bare the sight of. Naturally, he wanted to know what or who rather had caused his baby to be upset but it wasn’t until he decided to log in to Instagram and as clear as day, there they were..the hateful things being said about his beloved wife. He wasn’t much for going back and forth on the internet because he wanted to beat the hell out of them but that wasn’t plausible so he’d go for the next best option….and that was spoiling you rotten!..

six hours later and the entire living room was filled from doorway to foyer in dozens of red roses. Petals scattered across the floor and a teal gift bag with ‘Tiffany and Co.’ inscribed on the front. The first thing to greet you once you came back home. While driving around in hopes to clear your head, your husband was hard at work..not in the studio but ensuring that even though you had a bad day, the night didn’t follow suit. Being met with a text that read simply: ‘meet me upstairs’..it was then that you found him in the granite garden tub, setting in the center of the spacious master bathroom. Bubbles surrounding his nude body and an opened bottle of aged Merlot sitting on the side of it with two glasses..you couldn’t help but to smile for the first time in twenty four hours. “You’re not gonna keep me waiting, are you?” that sweet charm turned on tenfold tonight. You couldn’t believe he had gone all out and done this for you! But not one expense was spared when it came to his princess..he’d pull out all the stops to see that pretty smile again. Stripping from your clothes, (y/n) eventually steeped into the foamy pile of bubbles and immediately falling into his grasp. “You did all this for me, baby?” to which he’d merely chuckle, knowing damn well he’d hand you the world on a platter it were possible. “You know I couldn’t stand to see my angel upset. I had to fix that real quick..” Arms flung around the back of his neck and your tongue slipping into his mouth shortly thereafter. The two of you engaging in a heated makeout session, becoming immersed in one another; saying to hell with the comments and anyone else who thought that you shouldn’t be together. You were the only woman he wanted..would ever need and he’d spend every waking second until the early morning proving it! Tomorrow morning, you’d probably wake up to a plethora of positive messages, doting on you via a couple burner accounts he had his assistant make, where they spammed you with heartfelt praise. But for now, he had a display of love that were only possible for him..

like when he brought you to the bedroom, lying you across the mattress as he marked your smooth mocha complexion up with sensual kisses..warm breath making contact with your cold, dampened skin. They were divine but you hadn’t felt anything yet!..it was only when those gentle pecks trailed south to your mound, that he’d peel your thighs apart and place his palms into the flesh to keep you still. The last thing he needed was you trying to run when he began slurping on that cute clit. The swollen pearl glaring back at him with a thin line of slick between your plump lips. Dragging the tip of his tongue through it just to watch you shudder..knowing that he would have your legs full on shaking in a minute. Doing as he done best and eating your pussy until you trembled underneath him; bringing that to fruition in less that ten minutes. Locking your fingers together so that you held hands whilst he licked all between those pretty thighs and slit. “You taste so good, baby…so sweet.” Devouring you in every essence of the word..spitting, lapping, sucking and flicking to make you come in his mouth. Even when you grabbed his head and pushed him away, there was no stopping. He wanted to melt that stress away..fuck you so good that your mind was completely void of any negativity or hate. Which is exactly what happened when he leaned up and proceeded to tap his tip against that sensitive sex.. “..stay just like that..I got you.” Reassuring with a smile on his face before swiping a thumb across yours. He’d keep that hand cupped around your cheek and your heads pressed close as he slid in..you were so tight; a sign of how tensed up you had been but he had all the time in the world. He’d go as slow and gentle as you needed him to. This was all about (y/n)..starting out with soft, fluid strokes.. “..you’re so beautiful, (y/n)..I love you so much.” “..doing so good, taking this dick for me. Does it feel good, baby?”

both statement and question making you unclench those tight bundle of nerves and open up for him. Shaking your head and crying in response..not because it was painful but because you realized how mean you had been to him this morning. Getting angry over people who didn’t matter but he understood and your feelings were valid. He loved you all the same and would never get mad. To take your pain away, not cause it was his only goal. Watching you sniffle with tears coming down your cheek; mixing with those sweet moans and apologies, Eren pulled you into a melting kiss, sloppy and slow just as you liked them. His chain and strands of hair dangling in your face as he burrowed over you body and whispered: “Shhh…it’s alright. It’s okay..you just let it all go.” instructing with his dick throbbing inside of you. Telling you how beautiful you looked with him inside of you..how pretty you were when you came and all the other sweet nothings you nerfed to hear. He wouldn’t stop until you climaxed as many times as you pleased; releasing all that stress and tension until you fell apart in his arms and each time, he’d always be there to catch you..

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arlana-likes-to-write · 7 months

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Second Chance - Chapter 6

Masterlist

Warning: mention of death, sickness, mention of the Red Room trauma, lots and lots of teasing, self-doubt, Yelena needs a hug

Word Count: 3.1k

Relationships: Yelena x reader, Natasha x reader (platonic), Wanda x reader (platonic)

Note: a lot of this chapter is based on my own personal experience with the disease. As I've learned chemotherapy effects everyone very differently. The type of chemo the reader is on is based on her type of cancer but the treatment plan may not be 100% accurate.

“Come on,” you said, peeling the skin off the banana as you followed Natasha and Wanda from the training room to the common area. The duo just completed training sessions and you wanted them to go on a small adventure with you. You could go alone but that wasn’t fun. “It will be a quick trip to Central Park,” you threw the banana peel into the trash.

“I don’t think the words quick and Central Park can be in the same sentence,” Natasha mumbled, filling a glass of water.

“Besides,” Wanda said. “Shouldn’t you be taking it easy?” You huffed angrily and chewed on the last piece of your banana. “You’ve had a busy morning,” she added quickly. But you needed to have a busy morning before the steroids left your system and the aftermath was not pretty. So, you woke up and made blueberry waffles with vanilla protein powder and a side of fruit. You played fairy princesses with Morgan, sat with Tony in his lap to learn about his arc reactors, and listened on a conference call with Pepper. You needed to keep your mind and body moving. All you wanted to do was see Central Park in the winter and take pictures so you could draw them later. You loved the seasons; fall was your favorite. The colors, the crisp air, and everything apple flavored.

“Please,” you pleaded. “I don’t want to go alone.” The duo looked at each other, having a silent conversation.

“What are you whining about, Easton?” The blonde appeared and grabbed an orange from the counter top.

“First, rude. I wasn’t whining,” she chuckled. The smell of citrus began to fill the air as she peeled the orange. “Second, I want to go to Central Park but no one will go with me.” Okay, maybe you whining a little bit.

“I’ll go with you,”

“Sestra,” Natasha warned but she waved her off.

“Are you serious?” You questioned.

“Yeah,” the blonde shrugged. “I have nothing going on and Kate, America, and Peter aren’t going to be back until tonight.” Ooh. That was exciting. You couldn’t wait to meet the other people that lived on your floor.

“Amazing. I’ll go get ready.” Walking around New York in March wearing shorts and a T-shirt was not going to cut it. You took off in the direction of your floor. Faintly hearing Wanda calling after you to dress warm.

Yelena watched you run off towards the elevator, acting like an excited child who was let loose in a candy store. She figured you and Peter would get along well. “Ouch,” she said as Natasha hit her on the back of the head when the metal doors closed. “That hurt.” A pout formed on her lips. “What was that for?”

“She needs to take it easy,” the redhead said. Yelena rolled her eyes.

“You are acting like we are about to climb Mount Everest. She will be fine. I’ll keep an eye on her,” she threw the pieces of the skin from her orange away. “I read that it’s good to keep cancer patients moving if they have the energy for it.” It was like she said something in a language that Wanda or her sister didn’t understand. She looked at both of them. “Did I say something wrong?” Wanda recovered quickly.

“No,” she rushed out. Yelena raised an eyebrow in question. “It’s just,” her voice trailed off. “You researched on how to help her.”

“Yeah,” the blonde simply said. “I figured she would be here for a while so why not figure out ways to help,” she wasn’t sure if she liked the way Natasha was looking at her. It was soft. “You guys are acting weird. I’m going to get ready.”

‘It was normal, completely normal,’ that was the mantra Yelena repeated in her head. Someone that was living in her home was sick so of course she looked up how to help them. It meant nothing. Right?

“For you,” you handed the blonde a hot chocolate you bought from a pop-up stand next to the park. She took it with a smile that didn’t quite reach her green eyes. During the entire drive to Central Park, she was quiet as if she was a million miles away, lost in her world. You wanted to ask if she was okay but the Black Widow didn’t seem like the sharing type.

“So,” she said. “Where to?” You shrugged, sipping on the sweet drink. It wasn’t abnormally cold. The weather app said the high was 52 and the low was 36, right now it was 49 but you loved hot chocolate. It would be summer, a high of 92, and still, you craved the sugary drink.

“Not sure. I just want to walk around and take pictures.” She nodded and you ventured into Central Park with the Black Widow by your side. Few words were exchanged but the silence wasn’t awkward. Normally, you were the type of person who hated it when it was quiet. But you found the silence to be calm and peaceful. She let you take pictures of whatever you wanted, not huffing when you stopped for the millionth time. You even snapped a quick picture of her when a cute German shepherd puppy walked over to her. It perfectly captured the way her face lit up.

Soon the ache in your bones began to rear its ugly head and you were getting tired. Maybe you should have listened to Wanda and Natasha. The blonde knew there was a change. You started to slow down and you weren’t taking as many pictures. “Why don’t we sit down at the bench before we head back?”

“I’m fine,” you weren’t sure if you said that to reassure her or yourself.

“Well I’m not, you dragged me all around this park and I need a break. So we are sitting,” you knew what she was doing, making it appear that she needed a break so you wouldn’t have to admit it. There was a nagging voice in your head for you to call her out on it or tell her you weren’t weak. Instead, you followed her to the bench. A small sigh of relief escaped your lips when you sat down. The bench was facing a family, two mothers were watching their daughters being chased by a dog. There was enough snow on the ground that made for a soft landing when one of the girls fell. You glanced at the Russian, who was watching the same scene you were. Again there was a far-off look in her eyes. You knew to an extent the horrors she, Natasha, and hundreds of girls went through. It was part of the files that Natasha leaked. You spent hours and hours combing through everything. The blonde looked away and became interested in the rings she was wearing.

“How are your hands not cold?” You asked breaking the silence.

“I’m Russian. I don’t get cold,” you rolled your eyes.

“That was awful,” you watched as she fought the smile that crept onto her face. You leaned back on the bench, your arms stretched on the back of the seat. You wondered why people hated winter. Maybe it was due to the sun not being out. The way life seemed to slow down and the snowy landscapes looked sterile and lifeless. The vegetation changed too. The lush green, yellow, and red leaves that once covered the trees were gone - left empty branches and leaving trees that looked like skeletons. Those people saw winter as death.

But you saw it as a rest, a white sheet for a new start. A time for nature to do some maintenance. Death was final, you knew it better than anyone. Winter was moving, only less subtle. With spring around the corner, there was a rebirth and everyone enjoyed all of winter’s handwork. “What are you thinking about?” She asked. When you looked at her, she was already staring at you.

“Death actually,” her expression didn’t falter but her green eyes gave her away. She wasn’t expecting that. “I think about it a lot nowadays. Where do you think we go after this? Will we see the pearly white gates?” Yelena chuckled, looking forward. You didn’t miss the bitterness in her voice.

“I don’t think there is a heaven or hell,” she admitted. “I just hope whatever is next is kinder.”

“For you or everyone?” You asked. She was quiet again as she thought about your question. You were a little afraid you overstepped but the blonde sighed.

“A select people,” she said. “I want the afterlife to be kind to those who didn’t get a kind life this time around. They deserve a second chance.” You noticed she left herself out of that, not believing she deserved a happy ending in this life or the next.

“Do you want to head back to the tower?” There was a chill running down your spine and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold air or the conversation. Wordlessly, she stood up and offered her hand for assistance. You took it and stopped the gasp that almost left your lips. She was right. Even through your gloved hand, you felt her warmth. For a split second, you wondered what it would be like to have her skin against yours. Immediately, you chased that thought away. Your friend deserved a second chance at love, life, and happiness due to how cruel the world was to her. That second chance couldn’t be with you.

You were not hungry as you sat at the counter top while everyone was at the table. Wanda made a soup, you were pretty sure it was squash but the smell and the little you had was making your stomach twist. Huffing, you pushed the bowl away and ate some of the crackers the witch gave you. “You okay, kid?” Steve asked, getting his second bowl. Right now you envied the super soldier serum that ran through his veins.

“Yeah,” you forced a smile. “Just not hungry.” He frowned at that. “I’m gonna take this to my room if anyone asks where I went, okay?”

“Of course, if you need anything let me know,” you nodded, too tired to give him. A verbal response, and took the barely touched soup to your room.

You placed it in your fridge and made a beeline to the couch. God, you hated feeling like this. All the energy you once had was slowly leaving and exhaustion plus an ache in your bones was replacing it. Turning on a movie you’ve seen before and pulling a blanket over your body, you were quick to fall asleep.

“Miss. Easton,” Friday’s voice woke you up. It took a second for you to register where you were and who was talking to you. Once your brain wasn’t clouded with sleep you hummed. “Miss. Belova is at your door. It appears that Miss. Bishop, Miss. Chavez and Mr. Parker have returned from their mission.” You nodded, sitting up and listening to your bones crack.

“Tell her she can come in,” the door opened and you glanced at it. Your place hasn’t changed much since the last time she was here. The plan was to finish unpacking after this week of treatment, with some help from the team. “Hey Belova,” you remembered the AI calling her that when she came to help you. The blonde rolled her eyes at the use of her last name. “What’s up?”

“We are having a small get-together,” she said. “I wanted to see if you wanted to join. Buttt,” she sat down next to you. “You kind of look like shit.” You gasped.

“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special,” you punched her arm, not hard enough but she faked that it did. But her question was still left unanswered, did you want to join them? A part of you wanted to hang out with people around your age. However, you weren’t sure how fun you were going to be.

“If you aren’t feeling up to it, you can meet them tomorrow,” her voice was softer. It made you look at her. There was something in her green eyes but it was gone too quick for you to decode. Maybe you imagined it.

“No, it’s okay,” you sighed. “Just give me a second.” It was a little more than a second as you went into your bathroom. The cold water you splashed on your face worked to wake you up. You brushed your teeth, put deodorant on, and placed the beanie on your head. When you returned, the blonde was still sitting on the couch. “You coming?” You asked. She got up quickly and walked over to the door to open it. You were used to the quiet. Every time you stepped out of your room, there was no one else around. This time it was different. There was music playing softly and laughter, a lot of it. It made you smile.

“Hey idiots,” the blonde called out. The group turned to look at you and one of them fumbled with his phone to turn down the music. “This is Y/n, Stark’s kid. That’s Kate, America, and Peter; they live on this floor. MJ and Ned like to think they live here.” You giggled as the girl with long curly hair rolled her eyes and flipped the Black Widow off.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Kate said. The group was sitting on the floor with their backs resting on the couch; beers and a deck of cards on the floor. Kate’s arm was around America’s shoulder and she gestured to the empty spot next to her with the beer she was drinking. You took the silent confirmation to join the circle. The Black Widow sat down next to you and accepted a beer from Ned. He offered you one but you declined. You weren’t much of a drinker per-diagnosis and mixing alcohol and cancer treatment wasn’t ideal. Plus, there was no way MJ, Peter, and Ned were legal but if one of them was risking their life to keep the world safe, drinking wasn’t bad.

“So,” Peter said, taking the deck of cards from the middle and began to shuffle them. “How’s living in the tower?”

“Good,” you answered. “Everyone has been nice. Just,” you paused. “It’s a little weird.”

“Weird?” America questioned. “How so?” You saw the Black Widow shift next to you, putting her knee up and resting her arm on top.

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “I guess I’ve gotten used to being alone.” You had friends, some of whom you considered family. But once your mom died, you preferred being alone.

“Well,” MJ said, slowly. “I’ve learned that here it’s impossible to be alone.”

Yelena knew you were getting tired. She saw it on the way you curled up under the blanket Ned got for you. You stayed quiet during the conversation and opted out of the silly games Peter wanted to play. Soon the Black Widow felt your head fall against her shoulder and your body curled up against hers, no doubt trying to steal some of her warmth. Just by sitting next to you, Yelena could feel how cold you were.

Deep down, she thanked all her years of training as she was able to keep her body from jumping. Her face rained static, trying not to portray the way her heart was beating in her chest. The heat that was threatening to grow across her cheeks. Kate let out a low whistle. “Looks like someone has a new cuddle buddy,” the archer teased. The blonde sent daggers with her to her friend.

“Awe stop babe,” America said, playfully hitting her girlfriend on the chest. “We are witnessing little Lena’s heart grow three sizes.” The group tried to stop themselves from laughing which ended up in Peter snorting. Yelena felt her ears turning a slight pink from being the center of the teasing, something she wasn’t used to. It was payback from the constant teasing she started when America and Kate refused to accept their feelings for one another. But her jaw clenched.

“If any of you, suki (bitches), wake her up. I will kill you.” She threatened but her friends didn’t take her threat seriously. They simply rolled their eyes and continued with the conversation. Yelena knew you were tired when she walked into your room. There was a selfish reason that she asked you to join them when she knew you needed rest. She enjoyed her time at the park, more than she thought she would. When you didn’t join the team for dinner, she wanted to spend a little more time with you. Because you were friends. Friends that liked to spend time together. Just friends.

It was a mistake though. Alone she could mask the way her body reacted to you. There was no hiding it in front of them. This group had a unique way to break down every wall she learned how to put up.

A soft groan left her lips and the conversation around you stopped. Your eyes fluttered open and Yelena saw the confusion in your eyes morph to realization then panic. “Shit,” you said, scrambling away from her and creating a healthy amount of distance between you and her. Yelena had to stop the frown forming on her face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s okay,” she reassured you and it was. However, she was a tad worried that you could hear her heart pounding. “I guess you needed the sleep.” You nodded, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Thank you for this,” you said to the group. “We’ll have to do this again.”

“Totally,” Peter smiled as you stood up.

“Welcome to the floor,” America added. A chorus of good nights followed you to your room. The Black Widow couldn’t help but watch you walk away. Kate chuckled.

“You got it bad, Belova.” The Russian took a pillow from the couch and threw it at the archer. Unfortunately, Kate caught the pillow, stuck her tongue out at her, and placed the pillow behind her head.

“Don’t listen to her,” America smiled. “Besides, she’s got it just as bad.” Yelena almost choked on the beer she was drinking. There was no way. You had more important things to worry about than deal with whatever Yelena was feeling. Besides, who would want her? She was a monster, a killer, someone undeserving of love and a happy ending.

Taglist: @likemick, @averagetmblrusser, @@wandaromamoff69,

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x y/n #kate bishop x america chavez #peter parker x mj #second chance #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #yelena belova x stark!reader

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chelseachilly · 9 months

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THIS LOVE - chapter four | you can hear it in the silence

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 2.2k

summary: you try to keep your distance from ben after italy, but after a terrible day, there's no one else you'd rather be with. i wonder why that is...

A/N: sorry it took longer than usual to update guys, it's been a very busy week for me! this one's a bit short as well but the next will be longer. i'm so happy the prem is back and we're getting so much good ben content though, the chelsea media team is keeping us well fed (and inspired one line of this chapter lol). title is from you are in love by taylor swift 🙈

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Your plan when you got back to London seemed almost foolproof at the time.

You picked up a bunch of shifts at work, more than you would ever normally take on in one week. If you’re constantly working, then that gives you 1) an excuse not to attend any more events with Ben and 2) a good distraction from the developing feelings you’re experiencing for him.

The facts are simple.

He is your best friend in the world. He most certainly doesn’t return whatever weird feelings you’re having. Nothing is going to happen.

You’re sure it’s just a weird side-effect of this fake dating you’ve been doing, but that’s just playing pretend.

Seeing him return to his usual ways - that perhaps he never left - of sleeping with beautiful models, firmly planted you back in the real world.

And there’s nothing that can help you snap out of your fantasy life than a double shift in an East London emergency department.

By the end of the week, you’re burnt out, exhausted, and you’re coming off what might be the worst shift you’ve ever had. Everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong, and it takes all your energy just to make it home on the tube and get yourself up the stairs to your flat afterward.

You don’t know whether you want to cry, scream, sleep, eat, or something else entirely when you finally make it to your couch and collapse into it.

Some time passes - you’re not sure if it’s minutes or hours - without you moving a muscle, your face buried in a pillow as you try to forget about your nightmare day. You’re snapped out of it when there’s a knock on your door.

You’re not expecting anyone, but you reluctantly force yourself off the couch and trudge your way over to open it.

And there stands Ben, who you haven’t seen or really spoken to except a few texts in a week and a half. Perfect.

“Ben, what are you doing here?”

You’re aware it’s not the most polite greeting, but you don’t really have much more than that in you.

“Are you alright?” Ben asks as soon as he has a moment to take you in, his eyes scanning your face. “You didn’t answer my call yesterday or my texts this morning, I was worried.”

Although you missed the texts because your phone was off at work and haven’t had the energy to check your messages since, you did dodge his call.

“I’m fine, I just had a long day at work and I-“ You pause as it dawns on you what day it is, as well as the fact that Ben is dressed a bit more smartly than usual, in black trousers and a nice leather jacket. “Oh, shit. The Nike thing. I completely forgot.”

You had agreed weeks ago to attend a big flashy party for Nike as Ben’s date tonight, but as you focused all your energy on work this week it completely slipped your mind.

“I’m sorry, just give me a few minutes to get changed and I’ll-“

“Hey, hey,” Ben says softly, stepping into your flat and closing the door behind him. “Forget about the party, is something wrong?”

You shake your head. “I just had a rough day at work.”

Ben nods, gesturing for you to go on, and something about the sincere worry in his eyes makes it impossible for you to remain closed off from him.

“We were really understaffed, and it was just one thing after another and then I lost a patient and I just-“

You cut yourself off as you feel that you’re about to cry, the sheer weight of your awful day and week catching up with you, but Ben can see it in the way your lip is trembling slightly and you’re avoiding eye contact with him.

“It’s alright, come here,” he says, stepping closer and pulling you into his arms before you can insist that you don’t need to be comforted. You definitely do, and there’s no better comfort on earth than Ben’s hugs.

He holds you close against him, letting you hide your face in his chest, and you can’t resist letting out a few sobs now that he’s opened the emotional floodgates.

“Shh, you’re okay,” Ben says so softly that it almost makes you cry harder. “I’ve got you.”

Slowly, and never breaking contact, Ben shuffles you both backward until the back of your legs hits the couch and eases you both into a seated position. He pulls you even closer so your legs are draped over his lap and your face rests in the crook of his neck, his hands slowly rubbing your back as your sobs taper off into quiet whimpers.

You can feel everything bad and stressful about today slowly leave your body with every soothing murmur and stroke of Ben’s warm hand against your back.

He’s like an instant cure for everything wrong with the world, and it occurs to you that a big part of your terrible mood is probably the result of not seeing him for longer than usual.

Now that you’re back in his presence, in the strong arms that have held you when you were eight and you scraped your knee falling off a bike and when you were sixteen and a boy broke your heart for the first time, you never want to leave.

You’re no longer crying when you finally find the strength to pull away from him and look him in the eye.

Ben releases you but keeps his hands firmly on your arms as he examines your face with worried eyes and a creased brow.

“Are you alright?” he asks barely above a whisper.

You nod, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Sorry, I guess this week was just a bit overwhelming.”

“You’ve been working a lot lately, yeah?”

“Yeah, well, have to pay the bills,” you shrug, as if that’s the only reason you’ve been drowning yourself in shifts on purpose.

You do regret the comment slightly as Ben’s mouth opens and you know what he’s going to say before he even says it.

“Y/N, if you ever need money, you know-“

“Ben,” you interrupt. “I don’t need money, I’m fine. It was just a stressful week, but I’ve got a few days off now.”

You’ve had this dispute before, with Ben freaking out whenever you seem overworked and insisting on covering some of your expenses. You never take him up on it, obviously. You do mostly love your job and helping people, and Ben knows that. He just worries about you.

“Alright, fine,” Ben accepts. “Now why don’t we order some food and pick something to watch?”

You blink at him in confusion. “What? What about the Nike thing?”

Ben shrugs. “I’ll skip it. No big deal.”

“Ben-“

“Y/N, you had a shit day, you’re not going to some dumb party, and I’m not leaving you alone.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s his job to take care of you when you’re sad. Like he’s more than just your friend.

You can’t help but smile at his sincere expression, and how he’s gently rubbing your calf that’s still draped over his lap, as if you touch each other like this in private all the time.

“I thought you said it would be a fun party?” you raise an eyebrow. “Or were you just trying to trick me into it?”

Ben laughs. “Well, it might be alright. A couple of the boys are gonna be there. But not as fun as watching a film with you.”

There it is again - that damn fluttering in your chest that is equal parts exciting and terrifying.

Suddenly, doing anything with Ben sounds pretty good. Even a dumb party.

“You know what, let’s go,” you say, wiping any remaining tears from your cheeks. “There’s no point in this whole fake dating thing if we don’t commit, right?”

“Are you sure?” Ben asks, frowning a bit. “We really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure. Let me go get changed.”

You get ready fairly quickly, putting on your go-to little black dress and comfiest heels, because you did just work a 12-hour day. You make your hair look presentable and apply a bit of makeup.

It’s nothing special, but the look on Ben’s face when you walk out of your bedroom says otherwise.

The stress of your day continues to fade away to nothing as you and Ben make your way over to the party. Ben drives as they have a match Sunday so he won’t be drinking anything, and he loudly sings along to the Taylor Swift song on the radio in a clear attempt to cheer you up. It’s definitely working.

The party is a cool, lively affair at the Nike HQ. There are loads of athletes there, some that you recognize from television and some that you know through Ben.

As you navigate the party, chatting with some Nike execs and some of Ben’s past and present teammates, Ben maintains some kind of physical touch with you. His fingers intertwined with yours as you walk in; his arm around your waist as you talk to his mates; his hand rubbing gentle circles on your lower back as you order a drink.

You don’t know if it’s the fact that this is an event hosted by one of his biggest sponsors and he wants to play up the “man in love” thing or if he’s still trying to comfort you, but you can’t help hoping it’s the latter.

After a while, Ben is approached by someone from Nike asking if he can do a short interview for social media.

“Your girlfriend is welcome to join too,” the woman says nicely, flashing you a smile.

“You don’t have to,” Ben whispers in your ear, but you just shrug.

Normally you would shy away from any press, but maybe a part of you doesn’t mind being called his girlfriend tonight.

“I’ll do it,” you say with a small smile at the interviewer.

Ben keeps his arm protectively around your waist as the interview begins, glancing at you from time to time to make sure you’re alright.

They ask him a few questions about football before diving into the personal stuff, which you know is juicer for social media.

“So, Ben, we see you’ve brought your lovely girlfriend Y/N here tonight,” the interviewer says. “How does she keep you grounded during the hectic football season?”

You tense a bit as you wonder what Ben is going to say, or if he’s going to be able to come up with anything on the spot, but he barely takes a second to respond.

“She’s such a calming presence in my life, really,” Ben says, squeezing your waist slightly. “She’s a nurse, so her job is infinitely harder than mine, and she still supports me emotionally whenever I hit a low point with my career. She’s…just the best person I know.”

Your heart is beating so wildly that you’re worried Ben is going to be able to tell, but you don’t have much time to stop being flustered before she’s directing a question at you.

“Y/N, I’ve heard that you two have known each other for quite some time before your relationship began,” she says. “What’s your favourite thing about Ben?”

There are a million things that come to mind right away, most of which feel too personal to share.

You love how he takes care of the people in his life without expecting anything in return. You love how he cries every time you watch Marley and Me together, even though he’s seen it a thousand times. You love close he is with his family and how he calls his mum every Sunday night just to chat.

You love…

“I love how positive he is,” you say after a moment when you realize it’s taking you too long to answer. “He’s overcome a lot of adversity in his career, but he always has a smile on his face and makes everyone around him feel better by being in his presence.”

While you try to keep your answer somewhat football-related, since this is a work function, it’s also completely true.

And when Ben looks at you with that same bright smile, you think he knows that.

“Well, it seems love is in the air at Nike HQ tonight,” the interviewer swoons. “I hope you both have a nice evening, and we wish you all the best this season, Ben.”

As she leaves you standing there alone with Ben, trying to process the weight of your feelings, he turns to smile at you and tightens his grip on your waist.

When you meet his gaze and your stomach churns, you know two things for certain.

The first is that you’re in love with your best friend. It’s absolutely terrifying, due in part to the fact that you think you may have been in love with him without realizing it for a long time, but there’s no disputing it anymore.

The second is that you’re going to have to end this fake relationship before someone gets hurt.

You just hope it’s not too late.

a/n: let me know what you thought, predictions, etc!! love chatting with all of you and your comments/asks make my day! <3 tag list: @lunamelona @kathb59 @captainwans @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll @cinderellawithashoe @batmansb1tch @ncentic @myheartgoesvroom @chillymountsjess @babygirlbenji @delicateearthquakellama @joyfullyswimmingface @xxenia14 @chaotic-taco-collector-blog (let me know if you would like to be added or if i missed you!)

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x y/n #chelsea fc imagine #this love #my fics

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dingusfreakhxrrington · 1 year

Text

Promise

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer hasn’t been the same since the kidnapping and everyone knows it. you just wished he’d opened up to you sooner.

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, heavy indication of drug use, mentions of trauma, lots of angst, season 2 spencer, direct references to 2x15

word count: 2.3k

read on ao3

friendly reminder that comments and reblogs are just as (if not more than) important as likes!

It’s been months since the kidnapping, months since you almost lost him.

Spencer was back to work almost too quickly, somehow passing his psych evaluation with flying colours, but you knew he wasn’t okay. Everyone did.

He’d grown distant, quieter than usual. Most days he would try to act normal and pretend nothing was wrong but you knew better than to fall for that. Spencer wasn’t very good at hiding things from the people who cared about him, especially when it was you.

The two of you had been close since you joined the BAU. You had a lot in common and you understood him better than anyone else on the team. When he rambled, you listened. When he started spewing out different statistics, you were the only one who never cut him off. You noticed his stimming and his random hyperfixations. You were one of the few people on the team who he truly felt he was never being judged by.

So, when he stopped rambling so much and more often than not you found him sat quietly disassociating so intensely, you knew exactly where his brain was straying, you knew he wasn’t okay.

He’d spoken to Morgan and Gideon but only briefly and, although they had managed to get him to confide in them, you knew there was still something he was hiding. There was more to it and you could see it eating away at him. Everyone could.

“Reid!” you called out to him as you rushed out of the building, hoping to catch him before he left for home.

His head quickly turned back to you and he knitted his brows as you hurried over to his side. Although he said nothing, you knew he was asking a silent question from the tilt of his head.

“Do you want to grab a coffee with me?”

“A coffee?” he asked, checking his watch as if only to remind you that it was an unusual time to get coffee, especially when you were both heading home to unwind after a long day at work.

“Right, yeah. Okay, how about dinner then? I know you’re only going to get a crappy takeout anyway. We don’t have to go out but if you come over I’ll cook for you?”

He smiled, although you could see a glimpse of another emotion in his eyes. You weren’t entirely sure what it was but you didn’t miss the way he held his arm, long fingers wrapping just a tad bit too tensely around his forearm.

“You know what, I’d love to but-“

“No buts, Spencer. I’m cooking for you tonight. You need a proper meal for once,” you cut him off, and began heading towards your car.

With a small smile, Spencer shook his head and followed after you, knowing you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

His strange behaviour only continued during the drive home. He seemed distracted and on edge, though you were unsure why. Whenever you tried to bring it up in conversation, asking if he was alright, he’d just insist he was fine and then change the topic of conversation.

He’d been doing this for weeks. Insisting he was okay when you knew he wasn’t. In truth, he hadn’t only been distant and distracted since he came back to work. No, he’d also been acting strange. Sometimes he was rude and antsy as if he was subtly lashing out, and on occasion, he would completely disappear for short periods of time.

You’d asked Morgan about it, hoping he of all people would have been able to provide you with more insight but even he was unsure why Reid was behaving in such a way. In fact, he had been hoping you would have the answers. All he could chalk it up to was the way each case was getting to Reid. Everything had been different after he had become a victim himself.

“Do you want anything to drink? A glass of water? Juice? Something alcoholic?”

He made his way over to your couch, as always seemed to be his routine now. You weren’t particularly in the habit of inviting colleagues over but you had had Reid, Morgan and Garcia over on occasion. Whenever they came around, Reid always made a b-line for a space on the couch. Even now, it seemed.

“Some water would be great.”

You hummed and poured the both of you a glass before slumping down beside him on the couch. It felt nice to be able to relax although you could still tell something was off with him.

“Hey, can I use your bathroom?” he spoke after a few minutes of sitting in silence.

“Yeah, of course. You know where it is.”

Your smile dropped when he reached the hallway but you shook it off and started to prepare dinner. You couldn’t blame him for getting takeout most days as you often did the same. It was always so hard finding the time or energy to cook after a long day at work.

When Spencer came back from the bathroom he seemed different again. He didn’t utter a word to you as he sat back down on the couch, his body slumped over more than usual as he rested his head back and closed his eyes. You watched him from your place in the kitchen, thankful for your small apartment at this moment as it allowed you to keep an eye on him.

Still, you had already dragged him home with you and he was probably exhausted so you didn’t want to press. Instead, you opted for getting dinner cooked so that, at the very least, he could have a nice warm meal.

However, dinner hadn’t been the only reason you’d invited him over.

He sat opposite you at the table, thanking you for the food as he began to tuck in. The one thing that had struck you as odd, however, was the fact that he hadn’t taken his jacket off once since he’d arrived.

Usually, at the very least, he would have thrown it over the back of a chair and, on occasions when he was particularly tired, he’d even loosen his tie as well. Today, however, his clothes were almost too put together. In fact, you realised then that you hadn’t seen him with so much as a hair out of place in months. Not that that had hidden the dark circles under his eyes or the redness that often resided within them.

“Spencer?”

He only hummed in reply, his head swaying ever so slightly as he lifted it to look at you. His eyes seemed watery and his cheeks were somewhat flushed. He scratched the side of his neck, yet another tell in his body language that was bringing you closer to the source of his strange behaviour.

“Are you okay?” you asked as you piled the dishes up next to the sink, telling yourself you’d wash them later.

He stood from his chair, once again with knitted brows. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

He was scratching again, this time at his arm — the same arm he’d held when you approached him outside of work.

You sighed, growing tired of his lies. “Why won’t you talk to me? I know something is wrong, Spencer. You haven’t been right for a while.”

His eyes strayed from yours and he rubbed his hand up and down his arm, stopping just before he reached his elbow every time.

“I’m fine, really.”

You stepped closer. “No, you’re not.”

He glanced up at you again with guilt in his eyes. He knew he couldn’t hide it from you any longer, no matter how much he wished he could.

“Talk to me, please.”

You moved closer again but he stepped back when you reached out for him as if he were afraid you’d figure it out if you so much as touched him.

You didn’t want to believe it but you were a profiler, you studied human behaviour for a living and you’d been watching Spencer for some time now, determined to find a way to help ease his pain.

It was a truth you were reluctant to believe but, if you were right in your conclusion it meant things were worse than you’d initially thought.

A part of you didn’t want to confront him about it but as you’d stood there with him you knew you had to.

“Take off your jacket.”

His eyes snapped back up to yours and he looked afraid. Not of you, but of what you were asking. Of what he knew you would find.

“W-Why?”

You didn’t answer him because you knew he knew why. Instead, you simply stood waiting for him to do as you had asked.

His eyes drifted from yours and he shook the clothing from his shoulders, turning for just a moment to put it down.

When he turned back to face you, your hands were already reaching for his arm and oh-so-gently pulling the sleeve of his shirt up.

“Oh, Spencer.” It came out in a gasp as your hand covered your mouth, heart breaking at what you had discovered.

Tears began to prick at your eyes as you softly ran your thumb across his skin, careful not to press over any of the marks that littered his arm.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet, broken.

All of a sudden you found yourself lunging at him as you threw your arms around his fragile frame, holding him tight as if to try and tell him it was okay.

You still didn’t want to believe it, the guilt was eating you alive. You should have noticed sooner, you should have been there for him, you should have known. But there was no way you could have, not when he didn’t want you to know. He had been hiding this from you, from everyone. He didn’t want anyone to know.

It wasn’t your fault, yet that was little comfort to you.

He’d been using this whole time. Even now, in your own home, yet you weren’t angry with him. How could you be when this was of no fault of his own? You knew it had been Tobias who had done this, who had given him his first dose. If Spencer had had any say in it, he would have never gone near it.

You cried into his vest. holding him so tight you were almost afraid he’d struggle to breathe, yet his arms soon began to wrap themselves around you too as his body began to softly shake.

Together, you cried for what felt like an eternity as he was finally forced to face what he had become.

When you finally parted, he was wracked with guilt once again.

“Please, y/n. You can’t tell anyone.”

You finally worked up the courage to look him in the eye again and, when you did, you found your expression softening once again. “You need help, Spencer.”

Skittishly, he nodded his head. “I-I know but if they find out I could lose my job. I-I could-“

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out. I promise. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay? When you’re sober. You can stay here tonight, I don’t want you going home by yourself, but I need to know, Spencer: do you have any more with you right now?”

He gulped and reached for his bag, pulling out two more doses. Although he was hesitant, he passed them to you. The moment they were in your hand you found yourself tearing up again and so did he.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so, so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands, too ashamed to look at you.

Without a second thought, you hugged him again before slowly coaxing him to your bedroom. You helped him get somewhat comfortable, although he would have to sleep in his clothes, and tried to calm him down. You just wanted him to know he was safe and that you were there for him, no matter what.

“I’m going to get rid of these, get some sleep, okay?”

His eyes searched yours for any sign that you were going to leave only to call Hotch but he could see the sincerity in your eyes, he knew you weren’t going to do that. Not yet, at least. So, he nodded and closed his eyes, deciding to leave his fate in your hands.

A part of you suspected that Hotch already knew. He was far more experienced than you, after all. If you could see the signs then surely he could too. The only thing you couldn’t understand was why he hadn’t done anything about it.

Perhaps he too knew Spencer would likely lose his job or, at the very least, need to take time off of work to recover. Maybe he couldn’t afford to not have him on the team. Or, maybe he trusted Spencer to work through it on his own. Either way, you were angry that no one had done anything to help him.

So, with shaky hands, you poured the bottles down the drain and went back to his bag, digging through it to make sure there was nothing left. He had told you the truth and given you all he had with him. Still, you took the needles to dispose of them too.

When you returned to your room, he was already fast asleep.

You brushed his hair from his face, wanting to check he was okay, and whispered more to yourself than to him, “We’ll get you clean, Reid. I promise.”

feel free to let me know if you want to be added to or removed from my taglist!

#—dinguswritings ⌕#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #reid x reader #criminal minds reid #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic

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ripleyswrld · 1 year

Note

You should right a fanfic where the reader is worried about Rhea and then at rheas next fight Rhea ends up in the hospital and the reader is by her side for the whole time and when she wakes up they realize they are in love with each other! It is kind of all over the place but I hope it makes sense

thank you for the request and sorry I’m taking so long to write!! Have a lot of stuff that’s keeping me busy, I hope you don’t mind I made up my own little pieces of information to add to this fic!!🤍

gif not mine!!

You were backstage with Rhea, adding the final pieces of her makeup to complete the look. You were her makeup artist and you had been since she first joined nxt. You had stuck by her side through everything that has happened in her career like when she lost to Charlotte at her first wrestlemania, winning the raw women’s championship and of course joining the judgment day. You knew her well, her work was important to her and you respected that. But the way things have been recently worried you.

“Rhea, can I tell you something?” You said, putting the makeup products back in the bag and sitting it on the vanity.

“Yeah sure, what’s bothering you?” She looked at you, waiting for an answer.

“I’m worried about you.” Your eyes softened as you spoke. You cared for Rhea, more than you think she realised.

“Why?” She questions. “I’m okay, what makes you say that?”

“It’s just that, you’ve been more risky with things lately. I watch you wrestle and constantly feel like something’s gonna go wrong.” You always felt a certain way for Rhea and something itched at you telling you she felt a similar way, you could never quite put a finger on it though.

“Hey don’t think that way, Okay? Everything’s fine.” She said, very sure of her words. “I’m just trying to put more work in, it’s important to me.”

“I know.” You sighed, you knew something was wrong. “Just please, be careful tonight.”

“Anything for you love.” she said, walking out of the room to prepare for her up-coming match.

You watched Rhea wrestle, same as always. She was always incredibly reckless but tonight she seemed to be toning it down a notch. She listened when you told her to be more cautious but there were still times were she wasn’t so careful. That’s why she ended up getting injured the way she did. She went to spear her opponent into the ring post, when her opponent moved out of the way and her head collided with the post. You internally panicked, praying that she was okay and nothing was seriously wrong. She continued the match, pushing through to get it done.

When the match was over and she came backstage she found you first, not going to medical.

“Rhea oh my god are you okay?!” You asked, pulling her into a hug trying to calm yourself down. “And why aren’t you at medical?”

“I’m going to go to medical I just wanted to find you first, I’m scared.” She told you, holding you tight as if you were going to leave. “It hurts.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” You did your best to console her, it was unlike her to be this way. You knew something was seriously wrong. “ let’s get you to medical okay.” You wrapped your arm around her waist and walked with her.

The rest of the night was a blur to her, while you were walking her to medical she went completely unconscious. She was taken to the hospital as medical alone didn’t have what was needed for her. You sat beside the bed they had put her in, you sat there for hours waiting for her to wake up and you were so relieved when she did.

“Y/n?” She said, her voice horse and almost painful. “What happened?”

“Oh thank god, you’re awake.” You placed a hand in her cheek, rubbing it with your thumb. “Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

She leaned into your hand, the small gesture bringing her comfort. “Please, don’t leave.” Her eyes looked up at you. “Stay, all I want right now is you.”

You smiled, you knew right then and there that the girl in front of you was someone incredibly special. The way she lit up your world and made you feel so important, she made you feel loved and cared for. Not many people did that for you.

“I know what you’re thinking about.” She said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I feel the same you do, I have for a long time.”

The heat on your cheeks couldn’t go unnoticed, you finally knew how you felt for Rhea.

“I love you Rhea, I have since our first ever conversation. I just couldn’t figure it out until this moment, I need you.” You told her.

“And I love you.”

You leaned down to give her lips a small kiss, the gesture making both of you smile. “I’ll stay for as long as you need me Rhea.”

My requests are still open so feel free to send them my way!! ❤️‍🩹

#rhea ripley #rhea ripley imagine #rhea ripley x reader

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nxghttme · 2 years

Text

I forgot to add credit. Please check out this writer(@moonlightcanavalia) Their work is amazing

Gojo hated feeling weak,. His feet felt heavy, making his way to your apartment. You were the first person that came to his mind after everything was done. Knowing it was late he hoped you were still up. It took him a minute to register the feeling of your hands in his. You felt warm and like home; compared to the cold and bitterness he was feeling. He heard you say his name, but when he tried speaking nothing came out. He couldn’t remember why he was there.

Looking at you with eyes and face tinged pink, you could tell he’d been crying. Calling out his name. Gojo looks at you in complete silence. You call out to him again in a much softer tone. But he still doesn’t answer.

You reach for his hands to lead him to the couch, Slowly pulling his sleeve to follow. Once he sat down on the couch you do give a quick once over. You don’t see any cuts or bruises on him. “Hey, Satoru, do you mind if I take your jacket off. I want to make sure you’re okay”. He looks at you and nods. Before thinking you asked “where are your bandages? Do you have your glasses? I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You’re going to get a headache”. He says nothing and just stares, you know there’s something troubling him but you don’t want to pressure him. Grabbing his hands again, you look at them, look up at his arms, neck and face. You try your best to remain calm

Worry is eating you, your thoughts are getting loud while everything around you both is silent. You just want to take him into your arms and protect him from it all.

You hate not knowing what’s wrong with him. He’s usually so talkative and upbeat. Not wanting to push him to talk if he’s not ready, you grab his hand and lead him to your sofa. “Hey, talk to me when you’re ready and only if you feel comfortable”.

Standing up, you give him a small smile. “Let me get you some water...” you make your way to the kitchen. Barely registering the presence behind you, too lost in your own thoughts on what could have happened. Feeling a sudden hand resting on your shoulder shakes you out of your thoughts. Surprised, you jumped — turning to him.

“Do you mind if I stay the night....?” He asks lowly-barely recognizing his voice. He sounds so tired and defeated.

“Of course”. You smile at him and continue “You have some clothes here. I’ll get them for you, go take a shower”.

He says nothing just nods, making his way to the bathroom.

After taking his spare clothes to the bathroom, you made your way into the kitchen. Thinking maybe a movie, some snacks will bring some sort of serenity for his uneasy mind. Even if it’s for a short while.

You two have known each other for years, at this point. The trust between the two of you had been built little by little, growing as time went by. Gojo still struggles at voicing his feelings. Sometimes needing a few minutes alone to gather his thoughts. Only then, can he come to you. His emotions can be caught at a glimpse on his face. There one second and gone the next. The need to always seem carefree and unbothered wining. “I’m the strongest” he always says smiling. Though true his statement, it annoyed you and sometimes you want to shake him and yell at him that ‘it’s fine to be fucking tired and needing a break’.

You can see thru his guise, sometimes, late at night, during intimate conversations he lets the mask slip off. When the world is silent and seems still, when it feels like it’s just you two, he lets his humanity and feelings come out and take breath.

Filled with hope, you cross your fingers that tonight turns into one of those rare moments. Your worry keeps growing the more minutes pass by, just wanting your normal Satoru back. Mine you think to yourself. When did I start thinking like that, giving yourself a mental slap. The line between friendship and something more has been getting blurred for a while now. But neither of you have voiced anything about it. So the best thing is to just…keep going with whatever it is you both have going on.

Finishing laying some snacks on your coffee table you hear the bathroom door open. “Perfect timing” you murmur - sitting on the sofa. “Come over here let’s watch a movie” you tell him and loudly tap at the spot beside you - turning around to look at him. Hair still damp from the shower, towel around his neck, black joggers on, you take an involuntary sharp breath. No matter what he wears, he’s always breathtaking. Sometimes it’s envy inducing how effortless gorgeous he is. “What movie is it?” he asks in a curious tone. Snapping back - “It came out a while back but I’ve heard it’s good with an interesting twist!” you answer him as he makes his way to sit next to you.

20 minutes into the movie he speaks up “I saw this one, the brother isn’t actually dead. She wasted years looking for his “killer” - he air quotes- but he just wanted to escape their family and start a new life where no one knew him” You just stare at him with wide eyes “Satoru, you really have to STOP spoiling movies for me. I’m gonna ban you from watching movies with me if you keep it up.”

He chuckles and shrugs his shoulders “I saved you from the bad acting. Interesting story and twist but poor execution by the actors part. You should be thank me.” and he smiles. The nerve this man has to smile after ruining a movie for before it even really started. You have moved away from him to the other end of the sofa and decide to lay down and take out your phone. Giving him the silent treatment... He’s not one to take silence so easily tho.

Giving you a few minutes “Come on Y/N...it wasn’t that good anyways don’t be mad” he pouts looking at you giving you puppy dog eyes. Lifting your head from where you were resting it a second ago “I wanted to see it. You could have told me you already saw it when you realized. But no you spoiled it.” Now you’re pouting too and he feels a twinge of guilt in his chest just wanting to this be over. “Okay, okay I should have. We can try another one if you want. Is there anything else you wanted to watch?” he asks genuinely. “Nope” you say loudly while dramatically emphasizing the ‘p’ flopping back to where you had been laying before, jerking your body to face the back rest of the sofa, giving your full attention once again to your phone. Lightly kicking at his side making yourself comfortable.

He really does feel bad, but you look so adorable when annoyed that he can’t help wanting to push your buttons sometimes. Gojo really appreciates you putting up with his antics and how genuine you seem to enjoy his presence. Not used to people wanting to be around him for just him; most wanting something done. After they get what they need they cast him to the side until next time. Not minding it anymore since it’s something he’s become accustomed to; you’ve been a breath of fresh air ever since you two met. That’s why he’d crawl to the ends of the world for you if needed. Ask anything of him and he’d do it without a second thought. You have so much power over him and you don’t abuse it; never once taken advantage of it. Truly a gentle soul in this cursed filled world. Caring, sweet and understanding of him. Usually you’re the one to interject in conversations when people try to speak ill of him. Gojo feels undeserving of having someone like you in his life. There’s so much chaos that surrounds his daily life with being the strongest. Tapping one of your ankles to get your attention- you look away from your phone to focus on Gojo for a second and raise your eyebrow. “Mhm?”.

“Are you done ignoring me yet?” he asks with mild amusement. He just wanted to spend time with you and didn’t want this to stretch out and you two to actually end up irritated with one another. His hand has come up to rest at your calf - squeezing lightly he says “I won’t do it again. Pinky promise.” sticking out his small pinky. Rolling your eyes at him you sit up and make the pinky promise with him. “You better honor it or I’m cutting your pinky off” you tell him in a incisive tone. Gojo almost believes you’re truly mad at him until he hears the melodic sound of your laughter.

“Honestly? I’ll still watch the movie. I’ll just watch it alone some other day. Just wanted to mess around with you a bit. The plot line sounds interesting so I’m still curious.” you speak offhandedly. Laying your head on his shoulder he sinks deeper on the couch fixing his position so you could fit better next to him. Having one arm thrown over your shoulders he feels you adjust yourself too and he’s playing with your hair. Safety is the word he could use to describe what he’s feeling right now, he wouldn’t change it for anything. These moments with you help him push on when needed, always keeping them tucked away for when he needs the pick me up. But today, today was just too overwhelming for Gojo, even the strongest have their moments. That’s how he ended at your door, needing to see you and feel you. Thinking on how to start explaining why he showed up at your doorstep a little over midnight with signs that he’d been crying has him distressed. He doesn’t know how to say that his thoughts got overwhelming, how he wanted a break a moment for him to just be normal and not have so much weight bearing on his shoulders. How with you around could ground himself. You make the world bearable, you know the words to say to help calm the storm within him. He’ll tell you, he will, he just wants to listen to your voice a little more first. But Gojo being Gojo simply asks “why were you up late?” waiting for your answer he just noticed how close you two are. He’s resting his head on top of yours while you’re sat on his lap sideways…and he’s holding you so close to him. As if you’d vanish if he’s not careful. Not sure when or how you two ended up like that, you seem to not mind.

Angling your face to look directly at him “Couldn’t sleep” is your simple answer -adding in a whisper “I could ask the same y’know ” brushing your thumb over his cheek in a back and forth motion. Feeling his arms around your waist get a bit tighter, you put your forehead on his and murmur with so much tenderness “I’m sorry, I’m just worried I don’t want to push you to tell me.” Waiting for Gojo to say something, anything really, feels eternal.

“Well” he starts- clearing his throat “I’m tired that’s all. Sometimes I want to destroy it all so I can fix the shit the higher ups have done. They care about power and their own old beliefs.” He hides his face at the crook of your neck and takes a deep breathe, not sure of how else he can continue expressing what he’s feeling.

“Toru” you say - that sweet nickname you gave him always makes his heart speed up a bit. Moving one of your hands to the back of his head and the other one around his shoulder you hold him tight. Knowing words can be difficult for him you think this is the best you’re getting for now. Speaking lowly, words just for him to hear “This world can be hollow and unforgiving, I’ve seen how you keep breaking yourself, going above and beyond for people you don’t even know. People are selfish, curses will come and go. The world continues, no matter how big the joys or sorrows are. It’s okay to admit you’re tired or need a moment to center yourself and focus on you. I sometimes wish I wasn’t a Sorcerer honestly, - you feel Gojo get stiff at this - “I sometimes think about the what if I’d never found out about all of this. It gets tiresome. I’ve seen some unfair things happen and I want to breakdown. But there are also good people and I want a better world for them; even if they don’t know Curses exist and what we go through. BUT I’m also glad I’m a sorcerer. The best thing I’ve gotten out of all of this is the amazing people I’ve met. I met you and I’m grateful for that too. You can be funny some times so you being annoying is bearable” giving his forehead a quick peck.

“I am not annoying I don’t know what you’re talking about” he says and can feel him relax against you. Enjoying the warmth his body radiates you’re grateful he trusts you enough to not have his infinity on around you. Gojo is so touch starved, skin sensitive to any touch, you notice how sometimes he shakes and goosebumps rise on his skin. With simple touches you give him.

You feel the need to reassure him how you’ll always be by his side so you gently grab his face so he can look directly at your eyes - “ I can’t take the pain away, I can’t make the stress go away and I really wish I could do that for you. Just let you stumble in and out of the grace of your power when you need to. I can’t imagine the weight you carry, the pressure you feel. That’s not easy and I can only imagine how you feel at the end of each and every day. You don’t have to be the strongest always, at least not around me. You can let the walls fall away here; when it’s just you and me.” You say with so much sincerity and conviction in your voice he wants to cry. He has made the act of looking unbothered so believable at this point; looking emotionless or detached is something he’s gotten too good at. He needs to ease peoples minds, he doesn’t like making others worry, he’s the chosen one for a reason. Bearing what others can’t. But your words stir something in him. Realizing it’s fine to have this moment for him, to be open to you, to allow himself to have someone to care for and go to. Your arms are his heaven, your existence is the balm his soul has needed, something he knew but has refused to succumb to. Maybe it’s time to make it real, just the idea of you seeing someone else leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. The strongest sorcerer to exist is reduced to a nervous man before you, craving the taste of your lips. If he doesn’t gather the courage now he may never do it.

He whispers your name and it feels as if time has stopped for the both of you, just staring at one another. Gojo moves his hands to hold your face, brushing his lips gently against yours. “I’ve been wanting this, wanting you for such a long time. You don’t even know.” Looking down at your lips, he presses a soft peck. Keeping his lips close he waits for any sign of you wanting to stop, instead you pull him in and deepen the kiss. “Took you long enough, you had me confused for a while” you speak against his lips.

“Lay down for me” Gojo says, his heart is beating erratically, feeling the tip of his ears get hot. ‘Am I blushing’ he’s mentally asking himself. “Toru?” he’s whipped the moment he sees your hair a mess on the couch and cheeks a light shade of pink.

“You’re so pretty” Gojo says as he crawls his way up to your face. Caging your body with his larger one- kissing your neck he speaks in a husky tone “So many nights thinking about you when I’m alone. What I’d do with you how I would do it. You’re so sweet I felt bad after some of my thoughts.”

Your hands find their way to his hair and you pull him towards your lips “S-stop talking”. Feeling his hips pressing down on yours, kiss becoming more desperate, messier with teeth clashing. Pent up feelings finally coming to the surface and being embraced has you both feeling lightheaded. Hands desperately grabbing onto one another; touching any patch of skin possible. The touches felt electrifying, feeling like the first breath of fresh spring air. Neither of you wanted to stop but the burning in your lungs is getting stronger as the need for oxygen grew. You broke away from the kiss first. Taking a shaky breath and looking into his eyes you feel happy, excited now for what comes next for the both of you. You both seem to be lost in thought but suddenly the silence in your living room is replaced by Gojos airy laugh.

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo sensei #jjk fluff #jjk imagines #jjk x you #jjk anime #jjk headcanons #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru

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luveline · 2 years

Note

I’m begging for some hurt/comfort sirius content 🥲

i tried my best love you

Sirius looks alarmingly beautiful and very far away. In reality, it's a small space between you. You sit on the sofa, your legs pulled up and your face resting on the arm, and he dwells in the armchair. You're watching him as he watches TV.

You feel so miserable lately. So, so miserable. Life is very difficult and doesn't often let up, and you're feeling boneless, crushed, a short fall from tears at any moment's notice.

You're too afraid to tell him.

The space between you tonight isn't anything malicious. Sirius doesn't always need to be touching you and that's perfectly fine, though you always want to be touching him. You know his touch right now would make you feel better. If only his pinky finger wrapped around yours.

It feels childish to ask. Even though he's your boyfriend and he wouldn't have invited you over if he hadn't wanted to see you, or spend time with you. If you can make it the next few hours without asking you'll be cuddled in the same bed soon enough.

But really. You would just… feel so much happier right now if you were hugging him.

Like he can read your mind, or feel your gaze, he looks away from the TV and sets the glass of water in his hands on the table. "What's the matter, lovebug?" he asks, his head tilting to one side.

You wince and quickly hide it, going for nonchalance.

"Nothing," you say lightly. You pick your head up to avoid looking as sad as you feel.

"Something's wrong," he murmurs. He looks at you steadily, a stare both light and heavy. "Know how I know?"

"How?" you ask, sighing in defeat.

He grins. "'Cos you just told me."

"Wha- Sirius!" You drop your face into your hand. "That's cheating," you mumble to yourself.

"Do I have to come over there or are you gonna come over here?" he asks smugly.

"You come over. I'm embarrassed."

Sirius gets up, walks over, still chuckling by the time he's sitting at your feet. "You're embarrassed, huh? Poor baby," he murmurs teasingly, sliding his hand under your cheek to pull you away from the arm. "Alright, bring it in."

You pout. A complete facade – this is exactly what you wanted. You don't want him to know that, but it is. He guides you up into his arms, smelling like something sweet.

"Have you been eating sugar ring donuts?" you whisper.

"Now how did you know that?" he asks, laughing.

"You smell like them."

He rubs his nose against your cheek and drops a lazy kiss at the corner of your mouth. "I did keep you some. I thought you'd want them after dinner."

"Thank you."

He holds your face in his hand, angling your head to take you in properly. "You're welcome," he says, his eyes roving slowly over your features. They catch on your nose. You wonder what he's thinking as he strokes the very edge of your nose.

From there you're plastered in kisses. Your nose, your cheeks, your lips. Hot tiny kisses. You feel better with each one, a feeling of bliss clouding you up like tea seeping into water.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Everything's felt heavy lately. But not with you," you say, trailing your fingertip down from his temple, tucking dark hair behind his ear. "Nothing's wrong when I'm with you."

He smiles. "You'll tell me if there's something I can do?"

"Sure." You work the hand that isn't on his face behind his back, under his shirt. "Actually, could I…"

"Anything," he says, nodding in encouragement.

You push up on your knees and settle between his legs. He groans, encouraging your face to his shoulder, his thighs spread to make room for you.

You close your eyes, nestling your cheek against his shirt. "This is nice."

You're startled but quickly pleased when he kisses you, his lips gentle, skewiff from the sideways position.

"Really nice," he agrees as he pulls back, the heat of his breath over your cupid's bow.

You lick your lips. They taste like sugar.

#sirius orion black #sirius x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black drabble #sirius black imagine #marauders era #marauders #marauders x reader

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narinni · 2 months

Note

Hi can you write a Jerma x reader where the reader hates thunderstorms and gets cute and cuddly together with him and he helps distract them from the storm? <3

help this was so much fun to write, literally so cute

Thunderstorms and TV

The entire night went by so fast. As nervous as you where when you first arrived at Jeremy’s house, you relaxed quickly. Something about his presence had always been so comforting to you. Seeing as tonight was only the second time you’ve spent the night together, and the first time you’ve slept at his home, you would should’ve felt jittery. But not tonight. It seemed as if everything was rolling along easily. Throughout the course of the night you played video games, played with Otto, and binged several movies. Jeremy even cooked for you, which was rare seeing as you where usually the one to cook. Everything seemed perfect, like a fantasy. Nothing could go wrong. You shifted closer to Jeremy as the two of you watched another movie together. He seemed almost too immerced in the movie to notice, but seconds later he slings an arm on the top of the couch, just above your head. You release a deep breath, feeling as content as can be. Just then you hear a loud crack tearing you from your bliss. Your head twitches in the direction of the sound, looking out of the window into the darkness outside. You see a bright light flash, the hear another crack. You where having too much fun with Jeremy to hear the rumbling of the sky, foreshadowing a stormy night. Your heart sinks into your chest, and you try to distract yourself by turning to watch the movie. You don’t get very far before hear another obnoxious snap. The anxiety building in the pit of your stomach rises. How embarrassing. Despite being relatively open with Jeremy, you have yet to tell him of your fear of thunderstorms. It’s the flashing light and the unexpected but loud claps that makes cortisole pump through your system. You cringe at the idea of Jeremy seeing you scared of thunder. As you think, Jeremy shifts his attention over to you. You moved away from him ever so slightly, which he took notice of. Your hushed, but panicked expression and your wide eyes darting around the room, is something he also took notice of. He quickly put the pieces together and decides to take action. He leans closer to you and places his hand on your shoulder, which he now noticed was trembling.

“You okay?” The sincerity in his voice almost empowered you enough to lie and confidently say you where fine, but another, louder crack of lightning leaves you shaken. You can only respond with a, “Y-yeah”, your voice cracking halfway in between. You mentally ridiculed yourself for how pathetic you sounded. Jeremy’s heart ached a little when he heard your response. He knows your lying, and asks again, “Baby, are you sure you’re okay? You know you can tell me”, with the hand grasping your shoulder, he uses his thumb to stroke it. You look down in shame as your cheeks begin to flush.

“I…No, not really, I just…dont like thunder” Your voice wavers and your cheeks flush harder. Jeremy’s face softens, and you swear he almost coos.

“I’m sorry baby”, his eyes trail around the room in thought, “I’ll make you feel better. Promise”. You look up at him in curiosity, and he takes the opportunity to pull you close to him. You’re not used to being so close to him, and you stiffen like a board under his touch, but your body soon relaxes as he guides your head to his shoulder. His arms encase your body, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. His head turns to yours and you look up at him, only to be met with his lips pecking your forehead. The sensation melts your anxiety away and you feel almost as if you’re sinking into him. You can hear the steady rythm of his heartbeat, it’s so loud against your ears that it almost completely block out the sound of the thunder. Like a lullaby, his heartbeat, and the occasional stroking of your hair lulls you to sleep, and you find it almost impossible to keep your eyes open. As you drift off to sleep in Jeremy’s arms, he looks down at you. Adoration swells in his chest, and he’s almost proud that he was able to quell your fears. He rests his head on top of yours and follows you to sleep. As you drift further into sleep, you are met with a rather heartwarming thought: Maybe the thunder isn’t so scary when he’s with you.

———————————————————————

#jerma x reader #jerma985 #jerma985 x reader

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 6 months

Text

Pleasure Is My Business: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: You’re brought back to your high school days with this case. You put that behind you when you graduated, but life has a funny way of bringing you closer to the person who made your life miserable back then.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

Larry was reluctant to send everything over but he did it. So, when you walk into the police station the next morning, Hotch already has all the files on the desk. Spencer is in the break room getting some coffee and you join his side to get the day started with some caffeine.

"Tonight is the first night of the reunion," he says.

"Fine, I'll go for a couple of hours and say hi to everyone. I don't know why they deserve it since all of them treated me like shit. I'm pretty sure they still hate me."

"You're an FBI agent. It doesn't matter what they've done with their lives. You're helping so many people despite what they've done to you. Nothing else matters."

"You're absolutely right," you grin and kiss him.

You two grab coffees for everyone before heading over to the empty conference room. Hotch is already on the phone with Penelope as everyone shuffles into the room.

"This guy is richie-rich. Eighteen cars, six houses, and three boats. Can you even boat in Dallas?"

"When you're talking about that much money, ten grand for a call girl is like deciding where to go for dinner," Emily says.

"I have half a million over here for something called the bat cave, and here's a picture of him as fetish Batman. That is wrong," JJ shudders and shows the picture.

"Is there anything this guy didn't like to spend money on?"

"Yeah, his ex-wives. Fielding was married four times. He didn't have prenups in the first two, but he did everything he could to cut off his ex-wives."

"Are there children involved?" you ask.

"Yes, with three of the wives. Hoyt Ashford was married a few times, too, wasn't he?"

"You know, considering that when Kevin takes me to dinner and a movie, he defaults on his student loans," Penelope divulges. "This amount of money is sick."

"What did you find?"

"All three of our dearly departed rich guys were embroiled in bitter court battles over how much to pay in alimony and child support, and even when the court ruled in the wife's favor, these three charmers just decided not to pay."

"Garcia, can you generate a list of high-profile Dallas CEOs who are holding out on their ex-wives?" Hotch asks.

"One loaded losers list, Dallas edition, coming at ya. Penelope out."

"So, why would a prominent businessman who could easily pay child support refuse to?" you ask when Penelope hangs up.

"For this type of overachieving personality, paying money after the marriage ends probably offends him."

"They're spending tens of thousands on an escort, but they won't drop a dime on their wife and kids? That's cold," JJ shakes her head.

"Meanwhile, most prostitutes come from broken homes and she's listening to pillow talk. That could serve as some sort of trigger about how their ex-wives are cheating them out of money, and how their kids are nagging them. It's everything that these men take for granted that she never had."

"Should I assemble the police for a profile?" JJ asks.

"I don't think it's gonna help. She lives in a completely different world than they do. The same thing goes for the news-watching public. The CEOs who sleep with her won't admit to it."

"I couldn't even get past the team of lawyers protecting them," JJ says.

"What if we give the profile to the corporate lawyers? They've cleaned up after her even if they don't realize that they've seen this woman," Hotch suggests.

"Every time we've approached them, they've circled the wagons. What makes you think this is going to be any different?"

"She's putting them at risk, too."

"I'll gather the lawyers."

As soon as JJ gathers the corporate lawyers, your entire team stands in front of them to deliver the profile to them. There are about three dozen lawyers in the room of all different backgrounds. You scan the entire room only to stop at someone you recognize. This man used to go to the same high school as you in Dallas. He ran in the crowd that bullied you the most, though, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

"We're looking for a white woman between the ages of twenty-five and thirty. She's being paid between ten and fifteen thousand per session, and she's very well versed in the world of money and privilege."

"Even though she's a call girl, she doesn't look like one. She could pass as a businesswoman or a co-worker. You've probably written up her personal expenses as losses such as shoes, jewelry, and clothing. Your bosses pay her in cash, but they may also be paying her in other ways like taking care of her, getting her a new car, and even paying for her medical bills."

"She probably didn't grow up with a father figure, and she is now turning that rage toward clients who walk out on their families," Emily adds.

"What's going to happen once this woman is caught?" one of the lawyers asks.

"She'll be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."

"What about the other men she's sleeping with, the ones she doesn't kill? Will they be prosecuted?"

"Right now we're concentrating on stopping her from killing again."

"That's all well and good, but our employers are going to ask us about the risks involved In cooperating with an FBI investigation," another lawyer asks.

"Tell your employers that the risk is not only a physical one. She's compromising privileged information as well. After she sleeps with these men, they talk to her. It's part of the release they get in seeing her. All that dirty laundry you've worked so hard to cover up, she knows it. As long as she's out there, it's not just your clients that are vulnerable. Your firms are, too," you warn.

"Excuse me," a young woman speaks up from the back. "I'm Allison Barnes. I'm a lawyer at Webster Industries where Joseph Fielding worked."

"This is really not the time," Larry tries to stop her.

"We'd like to hear what she has to say. Go ahead, Ms. Barnes."

"A while back, I looked at some paperwork that Mr. Fielding filed about a penthouse downtown. I asked him what he'd be using it for, and he just kind of chuckled and said it was for a friend. Is that the kind of information you're looking for?"

"Do you have an address?" JJ asks and walks over to her.

"Please heed our warning. We're doing our best to get to her before she strikes again. Thank you."

Before the man you recognize can leave the meeting, you walk up to him with a friendly smile on your face.

"Jason? Jason Gavins?"

"Yeah? Don't tell me I'm in trouble," he jokes.

"No, nothing like that. I'm Y/N. We went to North Dallas High School together. Do you remember me or am I just coming off as creepy?" you chuckle.

"No, I remember you. I'm just shocked that you're here. Wow, it's been a long time."

"How have you been?"

"Good. I can tell by your badge that you've been good, too. Wow, the big FBI, huh? I always knew you'd do something special like that."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on. I'm assuming abilities like yours don't go away over time."

"You're right," you chuckle. "This might be a stretch, but did you happen to get a reunion invitation?"

"Yeah. I think it'll be fun to go for a night. Are you going?"

"Maybe for a few hours."

"I hope to see you there," he flirts.

He leaves just as Spencer joins your side.

"What was that about?"

"He and I went to high school together here in Dallas. He ran with the crowd who bullied me, but I don't think he remembers it."

The penthouse that Allison gave JJ is definitely home to the unsub. She must be staying here in between kills. You enter the penthouse knowing you're going to see the same blue energy, but it's driving you crazy not remembering who it belongs to. This place is too clean to have someone live here, which means she might have a different place to live. An initial sweep doesn't come up with anything out of the ordinary, but after spending some time in the bedroom, a few things pop out at you.

"Do you have anything?" Derek asks.

"No, and she seems too smart to leave a receipt lying around."

"Check this out," you say. You open a jewelry box that houses expensive rings and bracelets. "She's got a lot of high-end designer jewelry here, and then this." You pick up a small ring that's not like the others. "It's way too small to be an adult's. She probably kept it from her childhood."

"It's a purity ring. By wearing it, you promise to save yourself for marriage," Emily explains.

"She broke that promise a long time ago." Derek opens her closet doors only to find a leather suit used for sex. "Hey, Y/N, got a whip?"

"Nah, I'm not into that," you laugh.

"There are antique first editions on the bookshelves," you hear Hotch say from the living room.

"There's nothing identifiable. No pictures or sense of personality. Her lifestyle is completely disposable."

"Well, these aren't just for show." Hotch points to the books. "The spines are cracked. Somebody's been reading these. You know, we profiled that she learned to fake privilege. What if she's not faking it?"

"You're saying maybe she came from money the whole time?"

"Maybe."

The living room phone rings, and for some reason, you know that the call is meant for the FBI. It's like someone knows the FBI is in this room right now.

"Y/N or Prentiss should answer. If it's a customer, she'll get more information out of them," Spencer suggests.

"Unless she's calling in for her messages."

Derek takes out his phone and gets Penelope on the line.

"Yeah, Garcia, we're getting a call to this line. Can you work some magic?"

"I don't have a trap-and-trace in place yet. Give me a few."

"Prentiss, get ready to vamp. She's gonna work it."

The machine picks up the call, patching in whoever is calling.

Hi, it's me. You know what to do.

"Aaron. I know you're up there," the unsub says. "Pick up. Aaron Hotchner."

How the hell does she know who Hotch is? He must have run into her without knowing she was the unsub. Hotch looks at everyone before answering the phone. The machine is still on, so you're able to hear her side of the conversation, too.

The thing is, you've heard this voice before. You know this person. At some point in your life, you've either run into this woman or knew her, but where?

"Hello? I'm at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, but I don't know yours. Can we start there?"

"I thought I could trust you, Aaron."

"Who says you can't?"

"I want to. I even looked you up online. Is that strange?"

"No. It's flattering to be noticed by a woman like you."

"I thought you were so upstanding. I watched the presentation you gave on school shootings. I found it posted on YouTube. For a moment, I actually thought there were still good people in the world."

"I've disappointed you, haven't I? Just like all the other men in your life who've walked out on their families, who deserve to be punished."

"Did you walk out on your family?"

"No, my wife left me."

"Do you have kids?"

"I have a son."

"How often do you see him?"

"I try to see him every week."

"Do you see him every week?"

"No, I don't get there as often as I want," Hotch sighs.

"I believe you, but don't compare yourself to the men I see. You are nothing like them. You're just another whore."

"How am I a whore? You come when called. You do their bidding. In hotels, you take the side elevator to avoid crowds while the men who pay your salary walk across the ivory marble foyer into their cars, but I'm just frustrating you, aren't I?"

"Garcia, anything?" Derek whispers into his phone.

"I'm on the landline, triangulating the cell. Give me sixty seconds."

"What do you mean?" the woman asks.

"You want to show the world all these bad me, and my investigation's just getting in your way."

"No, Aaron. You're not doing your job!" she yells. Your eyes widen in recognition at the exact moment you figure out who this woman is. You cover your mouth to keep your gasp from getting out. "You don't want to arrest me and don't want me in custody because you're in their pocket. You just want me to disappear, just like they do."

"Truthfully, I'm only interested in finding you. You've been betrayed so many times. You don't know who to trust, and that's why that first murder felt so good. However, each one since has been less and less satisfying. You know that's going to continue. Am I right?"

"Yeah," she whispers.

"Come to me and turn yourself in. I will make sure that you get the help you need. I won't let you disappear.

"If we met under different circumstances, I could believe that. I won't let you cover this up."

A gunshot goes off on the other line before she clicks off. She's killed another man, another victim in her pocket.

"Garcia, talk to me," Derek says.

Penelope got the location of the phone call, but as you suspected, the man, Trent Rabner, was already dead inside his car. The only thing to go off of is the phone call she had with Hotch, and it's only until everyone is back at the station do you reveal where you know her from.

"I know who our unsub is."

"You do? How?" Hotch asks.

"The first time I saw her energy at the office firm in the elevator, I recognized it immediately. I came across this woman at some point in my life. The next crime scene only made me realize not only did I come across her, I actually knew her. Then, I heard her speak over the phone and when she got so angry, it clicked in my head.

"Her name is Megan Kane, and I went to high school with her here in Dallas. I caught her and a teacher having sex which resulting him getting fired. She became the laughingstock immediately. Everyone was talking about it. She got so pissed at me, but our unsub is her. My high school is having a reunion, and I'll put all my money on her being there tonight. One of the lawyers we talked to will also be there. He might have seen her or talked to her. He was one of her best friend's boyfriends in high school."

"Have Garcia get us everything she can on Megan Kane," Hotch says. "Morgan and Prentiss, go talk to the lawyer and see if he knows anything."

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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evansbby · 2 years

Note

fuckkk this au is going to haunt me honestly feel like when ari realizes up until she dies is the angstiest moments

You remember when you used to clench his arms when he fucked you, stared into his eyes, hoping, please choose me.

This is me trying.

And you tried. With the baby. With everything.

Even if you died, you’d love the baby until your last breath. Then one day, Ari did a complete turn-around. The man who used to ignore you would bring dinner to you, massage your legs, give you a little more freedom to roam around. Ask where you were. Worry about you.

It was the baby, you knew that.

At least when you were gone, he would love it to his very last breath, too.

“Are you heading out tonight?” You ask, shoving around the food on your plate. Your appetite’s disappeared drastically, and you force yourself to eat the nutrients for the baby—it’ll be bad if you didn’t—only to throw some of it up. Ari leaving for his ex-girlfriend didn’t help, but you can’t complain when you were the one who basically tore them apart, right? As a romanticist, you are the villain in the story: the least you could do is not complain when he leaves.

The man in front of you—who you can’t believe you married—grunts. “I’ll be back.”

“Have fun with—” You pause. Are you two even close enough for you to call his ex-girlfriend’s name? Still his current lover. You mull over the last few weeks, where you headed to the doctor’s appointment together and ate dinner in respective silence. It was pretty nice, actually. The first dinner that Ari stayed through. He probably hated looking at you, but he did, for a whole hour and a half.

“Sharon,” you blurt as the man moves to open the door. “I genuinely mean it, I swear. I hope you have a good time with her.”

The smile you’re wearing resembles more of a grimace, but it’s fine. It’s fine. At the very least, you wanted to be friends before the baby came.

Ari pauses from where he is. Turns. His voice is low when he asks, “You think I’m visiting Sharon?”

It’s fine. He didn’t want you to know. It’s fine.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” you force out a laugh. “She did come first in your life, and I might have to concede to that. I mean, I’m sure that if I had a lover—”

“Fuck no,” his voice slices through and adds to the tense atmosphere. “You have someone else?”

Oh, God, this is awkward. And he looks ready to shoot you. “Uh, no, but I’m just saying that if you have one there’s nothing wrong with… it?”

He stares at you for a few seconds. Clenches his jaw. “I’m not visiting fucking Sharon.”

The door slams in his wake.

You must’ve been dreaming the moment.

Writing in your diary, you place the pen to the side with a sigh. In your head, you’ve memorized the trace of Ari’s fingers across your face, pushing your hair back as he held you in your sleep. You can even feel the soft press of his lips as he kissed your forehead, the way he let you bury your face in his neck.

Why was he acting this way?

Another sigh—men.

Flipping through the pages, you take out a photo. The ultrasound with your baby. A healthy boy, soon to be born. You smile and trace its small form. It’ll be a mini-Ari, that’s for sure. He’s already strong, kicking and moving about.

It’s just a shame that you can’t see him grow. How much you loved him already.

God. Hands trembling, you take in a deep, shaky breath. Just the thought of death make you scared like crazy, but the thought of not having a baby at all felt like someone was clenching your heart and twisting it.

He’ll turn out okay. Both of them will.

For now, you had to be strong for yourself.

“Looking at the baby?”

Your spine straightens at the sound of the voice, and you wipe your tears. “Yeah, it’s so cute, isn’t it? I bet he’ll be just like his dad.”

Ari is quiet for his moment as he enters the room, taking off his suit. “And not like his mom?”

“What?” You laugh. “Oh, um, I’m not sure. I don’t think there are very good qualities I have. Unless you’re talking about compassion. I mean, not that you don’t have compassion. I just think I’m a bit too much of a pushover. It’d be nice if he had more of an opinionated personality, so I don’t need to worry about him when…” When I’m gone. “When he’s a grown up and everything.”

“That’s not true,” Ari says quietly. But his words are like a declaration. “We need more empathetic and gentle people to balance out people like me. To pull them back into the proper headspace.”

“Thanks,” you hesitate. “But I still think it’d be nice if you guys were a father-son duo.”

Ari’s mouth opens and closes. There’s an awkward silence when he goes to hang his outfit. It isn’t until he’s done and about to close the door that he says, “I hope he resembles you.”

BESTIE??? HELLO??? Are you like… a certified author or something?? Bc this is so good and gripping and well written and LITERALLY WHO ARE YOU?? (you don’t have to tell me, just a hypothetical question since you sent this on anon obviously and I respect that haha)

This is so sad yet beautiful! I wish I could write like this, I can feel the push and pull within Ari!! PLEASE oh my god what the fuck

#this is how I THINK I write poyt!Steve but it isn’t half as good or poignant as this bahahahaha #anon #dear diary au

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amiasfitaccw · 4 days

Text

Double Bang

Plunging into his wife, Audrey, for the second time that night should have been easy for Norman. At 42 years of age, he was a slightly balding, but lean advertising executive. His chest and stomach were firm but not muscular. He knew his appearance was unexceptional. It was in performance that he exceled. Norman prided himself on his double bangs.

With his wife’s legs spread before him, Norman poised over her savoring the moment. He knew everything about his wife. It was like surveying the instrument panel of his BMW. Audrey was wet. She was laying straight on her back with her legs splayed.

Her long black hair was cascading in disarray around her head. A light sheen of perspiration gleamed from her forehead. Her breasts thrust up from her chest like coned-shaped headlights with red tipped centers. She made little dog like yelps of encouragement to let Norman know when she wanted him to fuck her harder. When she climaxed, tiny tremors of orgasmic aftershocks jiggled her boobs. Her body was on her side of the bed so he never ended up sleeping in the wet spot. Norman knew everything about his wife except what was in her heart. Later, he realized that he never knew his wife. He never knew her at all.

He started lowering himself onto her. He was hard again. He was ready. Audrey twisted. She turned away from him.

“Hey, what the hell!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Turn back over.”

“No. I don’t need a double bang tonight.”

“Why not?”

“You were perfect the first time.”

“I’m even better the second time.”

“No, I don’t need it again.”

“But I do it for you.”

“I’m too sensitive down there. Let’s sleep.”

Norman was stunned. He had double fucked his wife regularly and successfully for the past 5 years. After giving his wife a complete fucking, a real one-hour knock-her-socks-off pummeling, he could recover in less than five minutes for a second round of sex that was just as intense as the first. Norman was an incredible sex piston, as slick and powerful as the other pride of his life, his black BMW 740. He was fine tuned for sex. He had power to spare. He could drive it home not just once, but twice with only a small pause to re-fuel. He was a sexual dream machine.

“Are you sure?”

“Not tonight honey.”

“I do it for you.”

“I know.”

Norman turned away from Audrey shutting her off with silence. Deeply wounded, he pretended to sleep to hide the hurt, biding his time until he could find out what was wrong. A woman was no different than a finely tuned BMW. If it started backfiring, you shut it down to cut the damages until you could fix the problem. Audrey had never refused a double bang. Audrey had problems. Norman would be the fixer.

The next morning, Norman pretended last night’s problems had been forgotten. He politely kissed his wife good-bye and drove off to work. However, at the end of the street his BMW 740 turned left and climbed up the dead-end semi-circle drive of the hill behind his house. He parked and waited. From his vantage point, he could look down on the small green oval of grass that was his front yard and the black roof of his house. After a half hour wait, his wife backed out of the driveway in her green Volvo. He watched as the car went two blocks and turned right before he followed.

He was afraid of losing her. He thought tracking his wife would be difficult. He expected a mystery. He wanted it to be hard. Her car only traveled six short blocks. Norman knew where she was going before she arrived. The truth crushed him. Audrey was headed to Big Bob’s house.

Easy going Big Bob Simpson and his wife Julie were Norman’s best friends. Bob was a gentle giant, with a beer belly. He was a good four inches taller than Norman and weighed more then 320 pounds. Norman never would have guessed, but he now suspected that Bob’s nickname had nothing to do with his height or the size of his belly. No matter how closely together you drove two BMW’s through a tunnel it was never the same as one 40 foot black limousine. Could this huge slug of a man be having an affair with his wife? Was it possible? He had to know.

After a suitable wait, Norman slipped out of his car and walked down the pathway on the side of Big Bob’s house to the gate. It was closed with a simple garden latch attached to a pull string. Quietly he creeped around to the back bedroom window. The blinds were shut tight, but the window was slightly open. He could hear his wife.

“Ooh, I’ve missed you,” Audrey sighed.

There was a rustling sound of her dress being removed. He heard a noise like a shoe falling to the floor. Then a deep throaty groan was followed by a series of high-pitched yelps of joy from his wife.

Tears brimming in his eyes, blinded with fury, Norman turned away from the window.

The thought of another man fucking his wife infuriated him. He did not consider himself a jealous man, but this was betrayal. This was his best friend having sex with his wife. This was losing face. It was like hand polishing your BMW until it gleamed and having someone spit on it. It was obscene. Big Bob was not even worthy of his wife. He was fat. How could she fuck someone like him? How could she?

Returning home from work, Norman probed his wife for answers. She was in the kitchen making coffee when he started the questioning.

“What did you do today?”

“I went downtown window shopping.”

“You didn’t happen to see Bob or Julie did you?”

“No, but Julie invited us for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. She telephoned just before you got home.”

“Dinner at Big Bob’s is just what I need.”

For the second time that day, Norman drove to Big Bob’s house, but this time his wife, Audrey sat beside him. When Bob opened the door, Audrey ignored him and walked to the kitchen to help Julie with the dinner. After Bob smiled and offered him a beer, Norman drew his gun.

“You fucked my wife today, didn’t you?”

“Are you crazy?”

“Asshole!”

“Just put the gun down.”

“Asshole! I heard you through the bedroom window.”

“But it wasn’t me.”

“It was your bedroom.”

“I swear it wasn’t me.”

Pointing the revolver directly at Bob’s stomach, Norman persisted.

“Tell me the truth or I’ll gut shoot you.”

“So you came here to bang me?”

“No, I came to kill you.”

“Bang me and you’ll just be banging yourself.”

The sexual innuendo hit Norman like a kick in the groin. His wife must have shared descriptions of his double bangs with her illicit fat lover. He refused to let Big Bob emasculate him. His pride forced him to respond. His mind seethed with rage. He responded, by habit, with his own witticism punctuated by shooting his gun.

“It’ll be a double bang.” Norman pulled the trigger twice.

Stunned by the noise of the dual explosions, Norman dropped the gun. He remained frozen, emotionally spent, while Audrey and Julie ran out of the kitchen. Someone must have called the police because the next thing Norman remembered was being handcuffed and forced to sit on the hard plastic seat in the rear of a police car. Before he was driven to jail, his wife bent down next to the rear window of the police car. Norman expected her to yell, to curse him for shooting her lover, but the red and blue flashing lights of the police car washing over her face made her look cool and calm. Like a tropical fish in an aquarium, she mouthed the words through the glass window. With the roar from the gun still ringing in his ears, it was hard for him to understand. Audrey repeated the words slowly.

“Your last double bang was perfect.”

At first, he thought she was talking about sex, trying to make him feel better. As the police car pulled away from the curb, he realized she meant the two gunshots. But that made even less sense. Searching for an answer, he swiveled around in the backseat. Looking through the rear window of the police car, he saw Audrey and Julie holding each other, hugging, on the front lawn. They were consoling each other over their mutual loss. As the police car turned the corner, he saw them kiss each other on the lips.

///The End///

#bbc bull #coukold #couple #bbc breeding #bbc for white #vixen wife #sharing wife #interracial breeding #perfect wife #share my wife

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