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reiderwriter · 8 months

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More Than Words

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU!Reader

Requested: yes

Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, your forced to beg your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.

Warnings: Light smut at the end, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.

A/N: Thank you for the request on this one! Ever since I rewatched Season 7 and saw Spencer dancing with everyone at JJ's wedding I've been thinking non-stop about him just holding you close like that and I'm going to shut up now because 8k words of that is more than enough lmao.

You can find my masterlist here, and I just started posting all my stuff on AO3 as well, so if you prefer to read there, check it out!

Despite knowing about your brother’s impending nuptials for the last 18 months, it was in the final two-week stretch that you actually started panicking about getting the date that you’d promised them. It was one sweet little white lie that you had made that had just spiraled out of control, but you’d yet to actually manifest the secretive boyfriend who was “very real actually, mom, he’s coming to the wedding actually.”

It was that statement that had sealed your fate, and always one to wear your emotions on your face when you weren’t on a case, it wasn’t long before someone noticed your building anxiety and guilt.

“Okay, spill Y/N. You look like you just witnessed your favorite author kick a puppy or a kitten or something,” Penelope said when you dropped some files off in her room that morning, spinning around on her chair to face you as soon as she caught your reflection in her monitor.

“It’s this wedding I have to go to,” you sighed dramatically, falling into one of the other chairs in the room kept for visitors.

“Want me to help you get out of it?” Penelope offered, patting your hand comfortingly.

“I’m not sure my brother would be too pleased about that, since it’s his wedding and all. My mother would drag me down all the way from here herself if she had to.”

“Okay, so a no-show is a no-go. Then what gives, my sweet avenging angel? There has to be something serious to get you looking all glum.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair before straightening up and leaning into Penelope more, creating an air of secrecy.

“Promise you won’t tell?”

“Oh sweetie, if only you knew the secrets these four walls held,” she replied dramatically, pulling a laugh from you.

“Last year, I was so, I don’t know, jealous I guess, of all the attention my brother and his fiancee were getting because of the wedding, and it just felt like every time my mom called me, she would only want to talk about them because of the wedding. I felt left out, and I already live so far away anyway, so it’s hard to have that connection with people back home, so I might have told a small, tiny, inconsequential lie that now actually has consequences?” Your face flushes at the confession, and you can see Penelope trying her best not to blurt out her thoughts, intent on letting you continue.

“I told her I was seeing this guy. He’s amazing, he works in the FBI just like me, and he’s smart, and he takes me on dates to these amazing places, like museums and interesting restaurants and to book fairs. I told her he was handsome and that he looked at me like I put the stars in the night sky, and he just doesn't exist, Penelope. And now I have to disappoint my mother again by turning up to my brother's wedding without a date.”

“Oh sweetheart,” was all she said for a minute, and the sympathetic look on her face made you want to run out of there immediately.

“I know, I know, I need to tell her the truth, but I don’t want to do it at the wedding and spoil her happiness. She loves weddings.”

“And this fake boyfriend is supposed to be your plus-one?” she asked.

“My invitation read ‘To our darling sister and her mystery man,’” you groaned, wondering how you could have been so childish in the first place. You’d acted like any child on a playground would, inventing lies to make yourself seem more important and cooler.

“I think I have the perfect solution for you, angel, but you might not like it,” Penelope grinned from her chair, leaning back and playing with the pen in her hands nefariously as if she’d been waiting for this chance her whole life. You didn’t trust that look, but you had no other option, so you took a deep breath and listened to her plan.

–X–

Three days later, and you were suddenly pacing the hallways with a coffee and a croissant, poised and ready to kidnap an FBI Agent the second he passed you.

At first, you’d laughed at the suggestion she’d made, outlandish as it was. But 72 hours of reflection, and a timely phone call from your mother, and suddenly you were on board and ready to lock on to your target. You stopped pacing when you heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of Spencer Reid. You were thankful that his schedule was so regular and timed down to the minute that you had just enough time to ambush him in the hallway before any other member of your team noticed.

“Spencer! Here I bought you coffee and a croissant from that cafe I mentioned a while back,” you panicked, unloading the gifts into his arms quickly, taking him off guard, before checking left and right before pushing him into the nearest empty room and shutting it behind you.

“Good morning to you, too, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re in a closet right now?” he asked, looking down at you with knitted eyebrows.

“Yes,” you gumped, afraid to say anymore.

“Are you going to tell me what the reason is?”

“I need you to be my boyfriend for a weekend,” you finally blurted out.

“You need me to… Just for a weekend?” He looked confused, and you felt your cheeks flame up, as you tried your best to explain the situation for him.

“My brother is getting married in LA this weekend, and I need a date. I told my mom last year that I was in a relationship with a really great guy who also works for the FBI.”

“Oh. So, you broke up with him and don’t want to tell your mom?”

“No, he never existed. Long story, I can explain on the plane, but I really need you to come with me! I’ll pay for everything, and I’ll even get you this coffee and any pastry of your choice every day for a month, please, please, please!” You begged him, so desperate that you were moments away from dropping to your knees and grabbing his leg, refusing to move until he acquiesced. You didn’t have to in the end.

“Oh, sure, I’ll go. When did you say it was?” Your jaw fell open in shock, and it took a few seconds to pull yourself back together as you reacted to his words.

“This weekend? The flight is tomorrow at 6 a.m.” You smiled sheepishly as his eyes bugged out of his head.

“This weekend? What were you going to do if I said no?” He laughed at you a little, taking a sip of the coffee you bought him.

“Honestly? Plan B was to cry, and plan C was to kill off my mystery man in a freak accident.”

“Wow, we just started fake dating and you’re already trying to bump me off.” His smile made you burn hotter than before, as you playfully hit his arm in response.

“Stop saying we’re dating. I pulled you in here to ask you privately because I didn’t want weird rumors circulating in the office,” you pouted.

“Then you better let me out of the closet, Y/N, before people think we’re doing something we shouldn’t be. At least three people saw you drag me in here, you know.”

With that, you rush to open the door and run out, shouting a reminder back at him.

“Just be ready, okay. I’ll see you at the airport at 6 a.m.”

–X–

The flight, despite being ridiculously long, was altogether quite pleasant, and you made it back to California in one piece, Spencer trailing behind you like a lost puppy for a while, letting you take up the role of “airport dad” as you guided him through the airport and to the hotel where the wedding was being held.

“So what’s our cover story?” He asked in the taxi on the way there, breaking the comfortable silence.

“What cover story?” you asked, looking up at him from your phone, still focused on just getting to the destination.

“Where did we meet, how long have we been dating, how much do they know about me?” He listed off the possible questions that his parents were absolutely going to interrogate him with soon. “I need to prepare so we don’t get caught out, right?”

“Oh, right. Based on what I told them, we met at work and we’ve been seeing each other casually for about a year now. I didn’t give them a name yet, which annoys my mom to no end, but I was always pretty private as a child so she didn’t find it all that suspicious. Other than that, they don’t know that much about my mystery boyfriend apart from the things we’ve done together.” He listened attentively as you spoke, taking each of your words in and committing them to memory.

“What was our first date?” He asked.

“Coffee shop. That place I got you the coffee from earlier, it’s called Flondon. I’m a regular there, so it made sense to use it in my story.”

“What else have we done together?”

“There was a book fair in New York a few months back that we, uh, spent the weekend at. You surprised me for my birthday with the tickets.”

“Wow, so I’m a really great boyfriend then.” He joked a little, and you let out another groan of annoyance at his teasing. You didn’t get the chance to finish your conversation though, as the taxi finally pulled up to the hotel.

You climbed out of the taxi after paying the driver, Spencer having already left to grab your bags, before walking into the foyer of the hotel.

“Y/N, just one last thing before we go in,” he stopped you at the door, grabbing you by the arm gently. “Are we… the, um. Hotels tend to get booked up pretty early for weddings, and I’m sure your family will be suspicious if we don’t share a room so…”

He didn’t have to finish voicing his thoughts before you were cursing, not having made the connection before.

“Shit, you’re right. My brother made the booking for me months ago. We just have to go in and get the room key but I totally forgot… It’s fine, right? We’ve roomed together on cases, haven’t we?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No, we haven’t. 67% of our motel bookings allow for single occupation rooms for Agents, I end up sharing a room with Morgan for 15% of overnight stays where double occupation is necessary, Hotch for another 17%, and the remaining 1% is made up of outliers where I had to share with Rossi or Prentiss, but we…we haven’t shared before.” He gestured between the two of you for a moment there, letting the facts sit with you.

“Spencer, it’s okay with me, is it okay with you? I understand if you’re not comfortable with it. We can just turn around now if you want.”

“No, no it’s totally fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable with it. Morgan says I snore, so I guess I’m not the best roommate in the world.” He smiled at you then, reassuringly, and moved his hand down your arm until it reached your hand.

You looked down at where his hand had entwined with yours and your heart gave a little jolt. Spencer didn’t like physical touch, and you knew that. You tried not to initiate any contact with him, despite being a touchy person, but there had been times after particularly tough cases and with close calls where you’d thrown yourself into the nearest person's arms, and he always happened to be near.

But those hugs had been thoughtless, natural reactions to stressful situations and this was intentional, and more importantly, he’d started it.

“Sorry, I just assumed we should get used to, uh, touching each other, I guess? We’re going to be doing it all weekend, you know, might as well start now.” He gave you an awkward closed-lip smile, and you giggled at his awkward explanatory tone. Squeezing his hand a bit, you grabbed your suitcase again in your free hand, and pushed open the door with your shoulder, pulling Spencer in behind you.

The lobby was filled with people arriving for the wedding, and you instantly spotted three cousins and two aunts from across the room, giving them a little smile as you made your way to the reception desk, Spencer right at your side.

“Hi, reservation for Y/N L/N, please.”

“Sister of the groom, right? Your mother asked me to give her a call when you arrived. Please wait one minute.” She handed you your key, and you felt yourself go pale, turning around to Spencer for reassurance.

“Oh god, she’s coming now, what do we do?”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay, we knew we were going to have to see your mom tonight at the reception anyways.”

“You’re right. Okay, right. Okay.” You breathed out, as Spencer wrapped his other arm around you, holding you in a closer embrace while keeping your hands locked together.

“One of my aunts is looking at us. She looks like she wants to say something. Oh god, she’s coming over, Spencer act natural,”

“Saying act naturally is actually counter-active-” but he didn’t have time to finish before you had turned to greet the older woman, disentangling yourself from Spencer’s arms as you hugged the woman warmly.

“It’s so good to see you, Y/N, you know how we all worry about you doing that job of yours. The other week we saw you on the news about that tragedy with the young girl…” she trailed off, giving you a worrying look before quickly shifting her gaze to her actual target, Spencer.

“I think I saw you too, young man. You must be Y/N’s boyfriend,” she smiled at him, waiting to hear a response so she could return to the other matrons with the gossip.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, I’m Spencer.” You could tell he was thankful that the woman hadn’t stuck her hand out to shake his, as he positioned himself mostly behind you, keeping his hands occupied by letting one settle on your hip and the other keeping a hold of your suitcase.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?” You heard your mother before you saw her, turning around in your place to finally see her, as Spencer whipped his head around as well. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

Your mother had none of the restraint of your aunt, and unfortunately, you’d inherited your clingy side from her, which is why she immediately swooped in to give Spencer a hug. To his credit, he greeted her warmly as well and didn’t avoid the touch, but he kept it short and polite nonetheless.

“Mom, how did you know…”

“You tell me about your coworkers all the time, I’m just surprised I didn’t work it out sooner. I always said that you talked about that Spencer with a fond tone, you should ask your father, he’ll tell you that I did.” You rolled your eyes at your mother’s words, doing your best to avoid Spencer’s gaze. He’d fallen back into place by your side as you greeted your mother.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, You know, Y/N has been keeping you as this big secret for the last year, and it’s so nice to see that you’re actually real. You’re here!” She sounded so excited for you that your heart almost broke under the weight of your guilt, knowing that you’d have to come clean at some point after the wedding. As it was, you were already going to have to try really hard to avoid the photographer and videographer throughout the night so you didn’t have to be constantly reminded of your idiocy whenever your mother got the photo albums out,

“Sorry, the two of you are probably exhausted after that flight, right? Go and get yourself unpacked. The rehearsal dinner is at 8 p.m. so we’ll catch up then, sweetheart.” She left in a whirlwind, having deposited you next to the elevators, and left you with no other option but to do exactly as she said, making your way to your space for the weekend.

–X–

The following few hours had been a little awkward, to say the least. You’d awkwardly pulled away from one another in the elevator up to the room, apologizing for invading each other's personal space. The room was a decent size, but still small enough that you’d be constantly tripping up over one another the entire weekend if you weren’t careful.

Reid carefully unpacked his tuxedo when you got into the room, and then quietly informed you that he’d need a shower. You’d unpacked your own things while he did, trying not to listen to the water flowing over his body in the next room. His earlier touch had ignited something in you, and your heart was beating at his every gesture now, something that you were sure it hadn’t done before.

What was it about weddings that made you so open to even the possibility of romance that even someone so off-limits could become the object of your affection?

So you tried not to listen, not to wonder why it was taking the man so long to just take a shower, not to let your mind wander to a place where it was perfectly acceptable to wonder what he looked like in that shower, and you unpacked and organized your things.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m really sorry but I forgot to bring my clothes with me,” he called awkwardly through the door a few minutes after you heard the water turn off, and you turned to the bathroom, not expecting the sight before you.

You’d assumed from the quiet volume of his voice that he was calling from within the bathroom itself, but instead, he stood awkwardly in front of you, a towel wrapped around his waist and torso, held together desperately in one hand.

“Oh shit, sorry, I’ll just turn around, I guess,” you stumbled over the words, dragging your eyes back up to his face as you did so, whipping yourself around to stare ahead of you.

“No, no, it’s my fault. I was so hasty I forgot my outfit for tonight. It’s okay.” You heard him fumble for his clothes and return to the bathroom quickly with another mumbled apology, finally allowing you to let out a deep, almost dreamy sigh, startling yourself. Mentally chastising yourself once again, you finished your organizing and let yourself fall onto the bed in the middle of the room sleepily while you waited for him to come out again.

You must have dozed off a little because you woke with a jolt when you felt a soft touch on your arm. There he was above you, a soft and concerned look on his face as he woke you up as kindly as he could.

“Y/N, it’s 7 p.m. We need to get ready for the rehearsal.” He whispered as if he weren’t too bothered if you didn’t want to go down at all, content to let you sleep. But you forced yourself upright anyways, and nodded at his words, swiftly moving yourself towards the bathroom he had since departed.

“Thanks for waking me, Spence,” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, gathering your towels and change of clothes before turning back to him. In the four hours you’d apparently been dead to the world, he’d managed to dry his hair, change his clothes, and, from the looks of the book on the bedside table, read through an entire book twice.

He noticed you looking and cleared his throat. “Sorry, you looked so tired I didn’t want to wake you, so I just sat here and read while you got some sleep.”

“It’s okay, Spence. I guess I was pretty tired. I’m gonna go…” you gestured towards the shower and stepped towards it with an awkward smile, not letting him answer before you had closed the door between you and taken a deep breath, setting thoughts of him aside for the night before you focused on getting yourself ready to face your lies.

An hour later, you were making your way back down to the lobby, having received a text from your brother that that was where everyone was gathering before making their way to the dining room. Spencer offered you his arm in the elevator on the way down.

“Here, grab my arm.” He said softly down to you, a sweet smile playing on his lips.

“Oh yeah that makes sense,” you said distractedly, looping your own through his and leaning into him.

“It’ll also stop you from picking your nails,” he joked.

“I don’t pick my nails!”

“You so do. You do it when you’re nervous and when you lie about something. Last month on that case in Chicago when that officer asked for your number, you told him you had a boyfriend and started picking your nails,” he laughed down at you, enjoying your pouting face a bit too much as he profiled you.

“You’re one to talk. The last time a woman asked you out, you started rambling about the linguistic history of the phrase “go out,” in the romantic sense. She stood there for five minutes before she gave up.”

“Wait, when did that happen? I don’t remember any woman trying to ask me out.”

“Then you’re even denser than I realized, Doctor Reid, because they do it constantly.” Your back and forth ended there, though, as the elevator doors finally opened into the lobby. You smoothed out your dress and tried your best to act natural as the two of you made your entrance.

“Y/N! Over here,” you heard your brother and saw him wave at you from the other side of the room, his fiancee next to him receiving guests.

“It’s been so long since I saw my kid sister. Get over here,” he smiled at you, beckoning you over, and you released your hold on Reid to give your brother a warm hug.

“Now who is this kid sister you’re talking about because last I checked you’re only 18 months older than me.”

“18 months, 18 years, all that matters is that I am, in fact, the older one,” he released you from the bear hug and glanced up to Reid, standing awkwardly watching the scene waiting for an invitation to the conversation. “Holy shit, you’re real.”

“Hey! Be nice. This is Spencer, he’s my… he’s my boyfriend, we work together.” You felt your cheeks flame as you introduced the two of them, your brother looking at Spencer through knitted eyebrows, taking on a faux protective stance.

“Spencer, hey. Mom mentioned you were here earlier, but I didn’t think you’d be so gangly… It’s my wedding, and I’ve been told I have to keep all threats to a minimum, but if I see you getting all handsy with my sister, just know that I have a blackbelt in jiu-jitsu.”

“No, you don’t. You have a yellow belt in karate at most, and you got that at age 10.” You laughed at the man.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Oh my god, it’s been almost 20 years, I already apologized!”

“Apologised for what?” Spencer finally managed to butt in, watching your sibling bickering as if it were a tennis match.

“This little rodent,” your brother said, scruffing up your hair as he spoke, “broke my wrist when she was 8 and I was 10.”

“It was self-defense! You were trying to use your karate moves on me and I panicked!”

“And now, you’re a hot-shot FBI Agent and you get to break bad guys wrists all the time.” He finished for you and you laughed, suddenly glad to be back around family.

“So, Spencer, you’re an FBI Agent, too? I thought my mom mentioned something about you being a Doctor earlier.”

“I am. A Doctor. And an FBI Agent, uh, they’re PhD’s not medical degrees, though. Three of them, Math, Chemistry and Engineering. I also have Bachelor's Degrees in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology.” He answered, and you looked up at him proudly, taking his hand as you noticed him growing slightly uncomfortable with the attention from your brother.

“Wow,” was all your brother said, until he finished the statement with “All those degrees and my sister was the best you could do, huh?” You punched him in the arm after that, and you felt Spencer physically relax a bit, twinning your fingers with his as you chastised your brother.

“Anyway, thanks for taking the time to come to our, hopefully, lovely wedding, the reception will be starting soon. The dining hall is just through there.” You hugged your brother again, and, with a breath of relief, led Spencer down the hall to the dining hall.

“That went well, I think?” you whispered to him, conspiratorially.

“Your family is nice,” he replied. “Does he always act like that, or is it the wedding spirit possessing him somehow?”

“If you’re referring to my brother, I think he’s probably partaken in a few flutes of champagne already this evening. But yes, he’s always like that. They all like to treat me like a baby when they see me.”

“I think it’s nice. They care about you a lot,” his words were warm, but his eyes were sad, and you remembered what you’d been told of Spencer’s own childhood and felt your heart ache for him. His mom loved him a lot, but Spencer had needed to grow up much too fast. You squeezed his hand, still clasped in yours and before you knew it you were pushing onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Spencer. For being here,” you said as his now flushed face met yours. You didn’t let him respond though, simply pushing forward into the dining hall, ready to live in the fantasy of your own making for the evening.

–X–

“Spencer, you were amazing!” You giggled, walking down the hall to your room, stumbling slightly in your excitement and haste.

“Those magic tricks? The little babies couldn’t get enough of you,” you spun around, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and pulling him in close to you, letting him hold you against the door to your room. He laughed a little at your antics as he pulled out the key card.

“Y/N, are you drunk?” he asked, one hand firmly planted on your waist to steady you now.

“No! I’m just happy. And if that happiness was caused by an array of cocktails forced into my hands by distant aunts and cousins who all wanted to know about my absolute catch of a boyfriend, then that is simply secondary to the feeling itself. And furthermore-” He pushed the door behind you in on itself, and your words were cut off by your legs giving out beneath you.

You were so sure you were about to take a tumble to the floor that you shut your eyes tight and braced for an impact that didn’t come. Opening them again slowly, you saw Spencer closer than before, his face mere inches from your own as he held you in an improvised dip, having caught you just before you’d hit the ground.

“Sorry. I… Shit, maybe I am drunk,” you breathed out, not letting your eyes drift from his own, knowing that if you ever considered a glance down at his lips at that moment, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from closing the measly distance separating you.

“You should use the bathroom first,” he told you, but without making any move of his own, stuck in that pose with you as if he was content to stay there for as long as he could hold you. “You should take your make-up off. We have a long day tomorrow, right?”

You were the first one to move, letting your feet find a more solid footing beneath you and twisting up from his grip. His hands didn’t leave your body as you became more upright though, still keeping you in that close embrace.

“Yeah, I should… I should go wash up.” You said, and he nodded, still looking at you with the same intensity as before.

“Spencer, that means you need to move,” you whispered quietly, and he jumped back as soon as the words were out of your mouth.

“Sorry. I’ll just… I’ll just be over there,” he held his hands up in surrender before moving further into the room, leaving you next to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom and were ready to sleep once again. Thankfully, you of earlier that day had managed to store your pajamas in the bathroom ready for their use. Upon exiting the bathroom, you saw that Spencer was getting ready to sleep too, slacks and a shirt having been replaced by a pair of flannel pants and a very old and beaten-up CalTech sweater, looking perplexedly down at the bed.

“Spence, what’s wrong?”

“We didn’t speak any further about the sleeping arrangements…” he mumbled and you looked at the bed in front of you, still confused at his meaning. “Y/N, we have to share the bed.”

“Oh.” You knew you probably sounded dumb, but after the amount of alcohol thrust upon you that night, that was all you could muster at this point.

“I can sleep on the floor if that makes you feel more comfortable. It’s probably no worse than some of the motel beds we’ve stayed on before,” he offered, but you instantly shook your head.

“No, I dragged you out here, I’m not making you sleep on the floor as well,” you sighed and made your way to the side of the bed you’d slept on earlier, beginning to pull the covers down so you could get in.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, perplexed by your somehow contrasting words and actions.

“I’m getting ready for bed. It’s late.” You replied, not looking up at him again, for fear that he’d spot the blush on your face. “You should too,” you continued, patting the other side of the bed, gesturing for him to get in, too.

“Oh.” It was his turn to stand there shell-shocked in the moment, and you almost let out a giggle but held back thinking that would be too much for him to take in at that moment.

“Come on, Spence, I’m tired, I’m sure you’re tired. We’re just sharing a bed, it’s not like you have to marry me after this.” You climbed fully into the bed, making sure that your nightgown covered you decently before pulling the covers up around you. Spencer mumbled something that you didn’t catch, but he acquiesced and climbed in after you. You turned your head over on the pillow to face him, turning onto your side as you watched him turn his head to you as well.

“What?” he smiled, noticing your stare.

“Nothing. Good night, Spence,” you smiled, finally letting your eyes drop closed.

“Good night, Y/N.” He whispered, and the sound of his voice carried you off to sleep.

–X–

You weren’t sure if it was the light streaming in through the window or the rise and fall of a chest that wasn’t your own was the first thing to wake you in the morning, but nonetheless, you woke from the comfortable warmth of sleep and found yourself wrapped around your fake boyfriend.

To be fair to yourself, he was also wrapped around you. Your head had gravitated from your pillow to his chest, his left arm wrapped up and around your back. Your leg had also risen in the night, pulled up over his waist, held in place by his other arm, which was, almost embarrassingly, cradling your ass, pulling you in closer to his core. Unsure about how to go about disentangling yourself, you resigned yourself to just waking the man up.

“Spencer… Spencer,” you whispered, letting the hand that had fallen onto his chest tap him slightly. He stirred a little and then cracked an eye open, looking confused with the situation.

“Y/N, is it time for the wedding?” He asked through half-lidded eyes, evidently wanting nothing more than to fall back into whatever dreams he was having. You shifted uncomfortably in his arms then, suddenly growing stiff in the position you’d probably held for hours, and found your nightgown had risen dangerously high on your body, his hand on your near bare ass.

“No, no, it’s just…” You rolled your hips against his in discomfort, and the movement had his eyes breaking open as he finally took in your positions.

“Shit, I’m….Sorry, I don’t know what happened, I must’ve grabbed you when we were sleeping,” he said, reluctantly slipping his hands away from your body, trailing his hand around your leg, and letting it fall onto his stomach. The movement sent a shiver up your spine, as you finally had enough room to lift your torso up, not quite ready to relinquish the proximity of your entire body yet.

“It’s okay, I think it was probably me who started it in the first place. Those pillows weren’t that comfortable…” you tried to explain, the hand on his chest rubbing slow circles into his skin before you could realize what you were doing.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position then as well, clumsily. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, you had no choice but to move with him, suddenly finding yourself straddling him, the bedsheets suddenly pressed away from your body. If he looked down, he’d see a lot more than you planned for him to see, your panties on clear display as your nightgown twisted itself up into the sheets.

“Shit sorry,” he moaned out again, as you steadied yourself with hands on his shoulders.

“No, it’s okay, I didn’t move quick enough.” You quickly pulled your dress down again, and extracted yourself from the bed, lifting your leg up and off of him and finally pushing off the bed, leaving him sat there.

His hands fell into his lap and you started gathering things around the room, readying yourself for the busy day ahead.

“I have to be in the bridal suite at 11, so we have about… two hours to kill before then. Do you want to grab a shower first, or should I?”

“You first,” he mumbled quickly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “You should go first. You probably have more to do today, right?” You nodded at his words and made your way to the bathroom again. Out of the corner of your eye though, as you let the door close behind you, you watched his hands come up to cradle his flushed face, as he let his head fall back again into the pillow.

–X–

The morning was so busy after that, you barely had any chance to talk to Spencer again. You spent the early afternoon in the bridal suite with the wedding party, welcoming your new sister to the family, then made your way to the aisle space set up outside, checking up on last-minute details and helping to flower girls into position. You weren’t walking down the aisle yourself, but you could see that the extra help was letting the very stressed-out Maid of Honour get some well-needed respite. And more importantly, it stopped your wandering thoughts from letting you fantasize about Spencer.

You’d woken up in bed next to people before, of course, but it had never felt so comfortable. In fact, other people you’d slept with said you were pretty distant in your sleep, choosing to move as far away from physical touch as you could get, but you knew with no doubt that you had been the one to move in first, to touch him first. That he’d pulled you even closer had your heart singing, and you wanted to be wrapped up in him all over again, suddenly desperate to seek him out. So you distracted yourself, not wanting to make any mistakes you would regret when you were no longer wrapped up in your own fantasy.

So you kept your distance as the ceremony started. Then the wedding march was playing, and you were holding back tears as his hand slipped into yours, your head falling onto his shoulder as you watched your brother marry the love of his life.

You kept your distance as you reached the reception hall, watching all the old ladies on both sides fawn over him, asking him questions, and watching from his side as he blushed at the attention. You swept the hair out of his eyes as the couple was announced, and you took your seat for the wedding meal and the speeches, his hand falling to your back to guide you to your chair, pulling it out for you like a true gentleman.

You kept your distance as your new sister tossed the bouquet, and despite your low effort and the ravenous looks of the bridesmaids, it fell neatly into your hands as if it belonged there. You ran excitedly over to him to show him and he lifted you into a hug, caught up in your own excitement.

You kept your distance until you realized you’d not kept your distance at all, physically unable to keep yourself away from the man who had somehow stolen your heart in the middle of the night.

“I know that look,” your brother said, somehow sneaking up on you later into the night as you watched Spencer perform even more of his magic tricks for the smaller guests.

“What look?” you asked, not for one second letting your eyes drift from Spencer.

“You’re in love with him,” he said, taking a swig of the drink in his hand.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said reflexively, turning to the drinks table behind you and picking up one for yourself.

“No, he isn’t. Or at least he wasn’t before this weekend,” your brother said, as your eyes finally snapped up to him.

“Oh, don’t act all surprised, Miss FBI Profiler. You may be good, but I’ll always be your older brother, and contrary to popular opinion, I do in fact pay attention to things.” You sighed and leaned back against the table.

“How’d you figure it out?”

“You were picking your nails the entire way through the reception dinner when the aunties were asking you about your relationship. You did that when we were younger too, when you tried lying to Mom and Dad about how I broke my wrist. Doesn’t take two PhD’s to figure that out.”

“Three.”

“Three what?”

“Three PhDs. He has three of them.” You sighed dreamily and ran a stressed hand through your head.

“He’s just my coworker. I didn’t want to disappoint Mom by coming alone after telling her all those stories, but now…” You tried to explain yourself but words were escaping you in that moment.

“You should tell him, trust me. He definitely feels the same.”

“How are you so confident about that? How did you manage to end up with all of the confidence between the two of us, when I can barely work up the courage to tell my own mother I’m still single?”

“Y/N, look at me. You got the brains, I had to have something. And no man flies to the opposite side of the country on a few day's notice for a girl who is just a friend, okay? That’s more logic than confidence, and that’s supposed to be your strong suit.”

You considered his words for a second, turning back to look at Spencer. Evidently, he’d finished his magic show and was beginning to say goodbye to the children, but he felt your eyes on him somehow and met your gaze. He brought his hand up into a shy wave before a little girl grabbed his attention again, and he looked at her seriously, nodding along to each word she was saying.

“Fuck, what do I do, I’m not good with… any of this.” You turned back to your brother, but he’d left you there, stranded in your own thoughts as you let yourself hope, let your brain dream that one day this would be your wedding and the man by your side would be Spencer Reid.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom request the presence of all the couples on the dancefloor for this next song.” You saw your brother again, next to his wife, whispering his explanations in his ear as she turned to look at you and winked as well. God, they were going to be a force to be reckoned with together now, you thought, as people started pushing past you to make their way to the dancefloor.

You recognized the song of course, and it was almost so on the nose you almost rolled your eyes. More Than Words by Extreme. Perfect.

“Y/N, may I have this dance?” He had somehow snuck up on you from behind as you watched your brother, and held his hand out to you. You put your drink down and took it, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

“I didn’t think you danced, Dr. Reid,” you teased him as he pulled you in, letting his hands rest on your waist, as yours came up around his neck, gently letting him sway you side to side in time with the music.

“I don’t really, but it seemed wrong not to,” he smiled. “I’m at a wedding, with the most beautiful girl on my arm, and the couple made it very clear that we should be dancing, so here I am.” You blushed at his words as he spoke. He removed his hands from your waist, instead grasping one of yours in his own as he pulled you closer.

You stared up at him with a soft smile for a few more seconds before letting your head fall back to his chest.

“I know I’ve said it a lot this weekend, but thank you, Spencer.” You said into his shirt, letting him hold you close as the song went on.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.” He insisted, and you looked up at him again. “Actually… I didn’t exactly agree to this with the best of intentions.”

Your heart lept to your throat as you stared up at him, hoping that he would take your silence as a means to continue.

“I’ve been… I thought that maybe…” he struggled to get the words out, his face aflame with the effort.

“You promised me those coffees right?” He finally stuttered out, and you were left confused and a little disappointed.

“Yeah, Spence, it’s okay, I’ll get you those coffees for the month, just like we promised.” You couldn’t help the sad smile that played on your lips as you answered him, so sure that he was about to say something else.

“No, I mean… Y/N I don’t want the coffee. I want this. I want us to go home, and make everything that you made up come true. I want to take you on a date to that coffee shop. I want to be a boyfriend you can call and tell your mom about because it’s serious and it’s going to work out between us. I even… God, I even spent the morning looking up book fairs in New York City so I could make that come true as well,” he rambled the words out and you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.

“Spencer,” you said softly, trying to get him to focus on you, but he’d started speaking and he wasn’t going to be stopped so easily.

“And if any of that creeps you out, just say the word and I’ll never mention it again. Because I know I’m not good with this, and when I feel something, I tend to feel it overwhelmingly, and Derek tells me I can be really oblivious sometimes, which I don’t really get, but-”

“Spencer,” you put a bit more force into your words this time, punctuating them with a hand on his face.

“Spencer, kiss me.” And he does. He takes your head in both of his hands, and he draws you up to him perfectly, letting your hands fall to the lapels of his suit jacket as he steals your breath away one more time. The kiss is lingering, but short, and he hesitantly backs away, looking around to spot witnesses. But you don’t care and you pull him back down for another, and another, until you’re just two lovers on the dance floor that cannot get enough of each other, gasping for breath between chaste kisses as you let him hold you there, gently swaying.

“Spencer,” you whisper finally, forehead resting on his, as the song finally draws to a close.

“Yes?”

“Spencer, take me to bed.” You tell him, and he nods. He leads you over to the bride and groom where you offer each of them a hug and a happy future before making your excuses and running away with Spencer back into the hotel like two love-drunk teenagers, a mess of giggles and stolen kisses as you stumble up to your room for the second time that weekend.

But this time, you don’t hesitate, don’t pull away. He backs you into the door and you let him hold you there, his mouth on yours, your tongues entwined as he fumbles for his key card. You fall together into the room, laughing and smiling the entire way, not letting him escape your touch.

“May I?” He asks, playing with the zipper of your dress as you kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck, anywhere you can reach, nodding and moaning your consent. The moment the zip is pulled down, he lets you go for a second, and the dress falls straight to the floor. You're practically bare in front of him, chest exposed, neck littered with the beginning of love bites that he’s about to absolutely build upon.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, softly, wrapping his arms around you again, lifting you up so your legs can wrap around him as he delivers one more soul-crushing kiss to your lips. Your brain is a mess of emotions, your only solid thought is that you will never let him go again. You both eagerly worked on unbuttoning his shirt together, a desperate mess of breaths as he finally laid you on the bed. His hand fell to your core, tracing a finger over your sensitive nub as you begged him for more, needing to feel all of him, to devour his very existence.

He pulled himself out of his remaining clothes, lips still attached to yours, climbing over you and holding you tenderly, his arms wrapping around your body as his legs came to settle between your own. Dropping his forehead to yours, he finally spoke again, his hand dropping between the two of you to line himself up.

“Is this… are you sure?” You heard the restraint in his voice, the desperation, the love, the overwhelming lust as he held himself back, needing to hear your consent.

“Spencer, I love you,” you whispered, and he finally pushed himself into you, joining the two of you together in a moment of bliss. You shared another sweet kiss, letting him swallow each and every one of your moans as he began thrusting into you, your hips rising to meet him in your delirious pleasure.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ears, brushing the hair off your face every now and again to tell you how beautiful you looked, and how well you were doing.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N, you’re doing so good for me,” he pressed kisses against your neck with each word, keeping his pace steady as you chased your inevitable high, already clenching around his thick cock.

“Spencer, I love you,” you let the words drop from your tongue like a prayer, repeating them over and over with each thrust as small tears welled up out of your eyes. He kissed them away from your cheeks, listening to each confession as your stomach tightened and your climax spilled over you. He grabbed your waist then, leaving one hand cupping and stroking your cheek as his own thrusts grew sloppy, finally spending himself fully inside you.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into you then, unwilling to let you go for even one second. You spent the rest of the night whispering the words back and forth to one another, waiting with bated breath for the fantasy to break, for the magic of the wedding to wear off.

It never did.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds smut #So much plot #maturereiding

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kimstills · 1 month

Text

i can see you

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader

summary: "here i was thinking that i was special because you would only look at me with that desperate look on your face, but i see that you give any old man that look, right?”

content warnings: jealous!hotch, reader is a panther (aren't we all), bathroom sex, mirror sex, p in v, sexual tension, unprotected sex (r mentions being on birth control but wrap it before you tap it!), rough sex, dirty talk, size kink if u squint, spanking, hair pulling, choking, dom!hotch, sub!reader.

word count: 3.9k (y’all this was not supposed to be this long lmao)

notes: day 18 of @hotchfiles marchhotchness 'self-image' but also HEAVILY inspired by this post from @softhairedhotch because it made me go FERAL and i love jealous hotch (but pls lmk if taking inspo was okay!!) this is also my first hotch fic ever so pls lmk ur thoughts or any other feedback <333

aaron hotchner was not a jealous man.

he had no right to be jealous over something that technically did not exist or someone that technically was not his.

and although he only had himself to blame for that, he really did wish that you were his. and as much as he was telling himself not to be, he was jealous.

but it wasn’t the typical jealous where he watched you be approached by someone much younger than him—someone your own age instead of his—and by someone who already had him beat in reciprocating that flirtatious energy you often used on aaron himself.

no, this type of jealousy was one that was boosting his ego and making him feel lightweight, albeit the fact that it still made him see red.

it was a typical night out with the rest of the team, all of you having agreed that the eight of you were in need of a couple of drinks after some long weeks of paperwork and back and forth cases.

you were all engrossed in the conversation, but you had left the table to get yourself another refill on your drink and had taken far too long than it normally would have, the rest of the younger members—all besides reid—having decided on hitting up the dance floor throughout the time you hadn’t returned to your seat.

it was practically natural for aaron to look for you in a crowd, but what he hadn’t expected to find was you, sitting in a bar stool on the right side of the bar, being hit up by a man who had to have been a couple of years older than aaron himself.

the front hairs of the man’s head were peeking of several grey hairs, paired with a matching grey beard and an overall radiance that screamed of that older man type that you were apparently into.

the sudden revelation made aaron feel dizzy, the confirmation of your attraction towards older men making his pants tighten as he watched the way you stared up at the man with that sultry look of yours—the one where you were somehow able to perfectly mix mischief and innocence seamlessly together.

while you had used that look on aaron countless times before, times where it had been only you and him alone in his office, way past working hours, he had never done anything about it. but, god, as he watched you do it to someone else, out on the open, there was nothing he was currently regretting more.

aaron’s train of thought was interrupted as he felt someone kick him from underneath the table he sat at, whipping his head to the person in front of him only to find rossi staring at him with a smug look on his face.

he cleared his throat, “what?”

aaron mentally cringed at the way his voice wavered.

“you gonna be done being jealous anytime soon and make a move or are you just gonna sit there throwing daggers at the guy?” dave asked, brows raised.

he took a long sip from his drink, trying to avoid the question for as long as he could as he tried to compose himself, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,”

rossi rolled his eyes, “oh, please, aaron. you don’t have to be a profiler to notice the way you can cut the tension that’s between the both of you with a butter knife,”

aaron’s brows furrowed.

“you have all the confirmation you need right there,” dave pointed his thumb behind him, signaling at you and the man, “if that’s not enough for you, then i’m declaring you helpless at this point,” he let out a sigh, standing from his seat, “i’m going to get another drink and if i find you still sitting here, wallowing in your thoughts after getting my refill, i’ll go up to them and encourage her to go home with the man.”

aaron’s fists clenched at the thought. at the thought of you sprawled on the bed of another man, wearing that same look you had on just now and staring up at him as you—

his body acted faster than his brain did, and before he even had the chance to process what he was doing, he stood from his own stool, not allowing for another moment to pass by as he stormed over to where you and the man were sitting.

from your side of the room, you can see aaron make his way over to you through the peripheral of your vision, the excitement of finally getting a reaction out of him making your heart skip and your thighs press together as you took into count the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

the pressure you put on your thighs didn’t do anything to relieve the ache you felt in your core as he reached where you sat, coming to stand behind—was his name michael? although the stranger you had began talking to was definitely older than him, aaron was a good several inches taller, towering over the both of you.

he cleared his throat, cutting michael off from whatever he had been talking to you about as he turned around with a raised brow. aaron’s expression didn’t falter, not sparing a single glance at the man as his eyes landed on you, “y/n, can i speak to you for a moment?”

you mentally rolled your eyes. ever the formal one.

michael scoffed from in front of him, angling his body so that he was able to properly glare daggers at your boss, “we were in the middle of a conversation here, if you don’t mind?”

although your attraction for aaron skyrocketed in comparison to the man you had just met, you were thriving off of the jealousy radiating off of the one you wanted the most, the ache in your stomach only growing.

before aaron had the chance to shoot out a reply, you set your hand on michael’s forearm, giving him a small, but sad smile, “i’m sorry, michael,” you butted in, jumping off of the bar stool, “i’ll be right back, okay?”

another scoff comes from michael’s direction, “whatever,” he grabs his drink and rolls his eyes, “don’t even bother coming back,”

ew.

this time you actually rolled your eyes, grabbing at your drink and drowning the rest of it. you shrug, “older men are always a hit or miss,” you mumble, setting the glass down.

aaron’s hand comes to wrap around your wrist, a firm but gentle grip on it as he pulls you close to him, “let’s go,” he seethes in your ear.

you hide a smirk as you follow behind him, letting your body practically flail as you struggle to keep up with him. when he notices your staggered pace, he matches his footsteps with yours, moving his hand from your wrist to your waist as he guides you through the crowd and towards the hallway that lead towards the bar’s restrooms.

the both of you gave a silent thanks at the fact that there was no line, the hallway scarce and dimly lit with the exception of a few people standing together against the walls, either flirting or talking.

“what are you doing?” you ask, standing behind him as he knocks on one of the doors, his grip on your waist still very much present.

“you’ll see,” he mumbles, yanking the door open by the knob after no one replies and pulling the both of you inside before slamming the door shut behind him.

you try to take a good look at the interior of the bathroom, trying to guess if it was a good enough place to do whatever the two of you were about to do.

a faint gasp escapes your lips as you feel something hard press into your ass, immediately melting as one of aaron’s big hands comes to rub at the side of your leg, right below your hip. his whole body comes up behind yours, his other free hand coming to your stomach to press you into him.

“aaron—” you try to speak but get cut off as you let out another gasp, one almost like a sigh, as the hand that was rubbing at your leg sneaks further up and wraps itself around your hip, aaron’s thick fingers digging into your skin despite the material of your shorts that blocked his hand.

aaron dips his head so that his mouth is right next to your ear, his breath and the faint touch of his lips against the lower part of your jawline sending shivers down your spine.

“is this okay?” he asks softly, a total contrast from the vice grip he had on both your front and hip.

you nod quickly, your hand coming up to your right where he held your hip to wrap around his own.

“use your words, honey,”

the pet name makes you whimper and your thighs clench in spite of the fact that you were standing up. you let out a ragged breath as he awaits for your answer, the hand that was pressed to your stomach furthering down until it was right above your pelvis but below your tummy, pushing you further back until you could feel how hard he actually was.

you whine, your other hand coming to wrap around that one, too, “yes,” you sigh, “it’s okay,”

aaron presses his lips into that same spot below your jaw, gently and lovingly before whipping you around so that you were facing him and pushing you up against the counter.

not even giving you a chance to process what he had just done, his lips crash onto yours roughly, making you moan directly into his mouth. your bring your arms up around his neck, running your fingers through his hair and tugging.

aaron hisses, slapping at your thigh in a firm way that had you let out another moan.

“aaron,” you whine, pushing up into his chest out of desperation.

he hums, “do you want my attention now?” he asks through the kiss, “don’t wanna go back and talk to that guy you were all over just a couple of minutes ago?”

“no,” you mumble, huffing as he breaks away from you to wrap his fingers around your chin.

he chuckles as your lips form into a puffy pout, “here i was thinking that i was special because you would only look at me with that desperate look on your face, but i see that you give any old man that look, right?”

“no!” you whine again, your arms dropping from around his neck to wrap around his bicep, squeezing at the muscle to try and pull him closer to you, “just you!”

his confidence was beyond what it normally was, feeling you squirm from against him yet still wanting his touch, “really? so you weren’t planning on going home with that man? all those times you touched his shoulder or the times he would touch your thigh meant nothing?”

“yes, they didn’t mean anything!” you huff, “you’re the one i want to go home with all the time!”

aaron’s heart clenched at your confession, knowing that deep down you really did mean all the time. he had just never been sure if you truly were interested in living a joint life with him. up until now, that is.

he brings his hands to your back, right by your shoulder blades as he connects your lips once more. your shoulders relax and you lean into him with earnest, squeezing at the muscle from his bicep.

you hum, satisfied as he begins to run his hands up and down, resulting in the fabric of your shirt lifting with every time he went up, eventually ending up in nothing but rolled up fabric under his palm. he breaks the kiss once more to toss your shirt over your head and near the sink’s counter, leaving you in only your shorts.

aaron stared at your bare breasts, not expecting you to have not been wearing a bra despite the tight shirt you just had on.

you shiver under his gaze, opening your mouth to say something before he lowered himself and quickly attached a mouth to one of your breasts, the other one coming up to grab and squeeze at it. you moan, gripping onto the marble counter for support as he presses sloppy and wet kisses to each breast.

his fingers come to undo the button of your shorts, hooking them inside your panties before shoving both articles of clothing down your legs, signaling you to kick them off of you. you toed your shoes off as well, leaving you completely naked and bare for him while he remained fully clothed.

he turns you around gently, bringing you face to face with the sight of you completely stripped in the mirror, the image making you clench your thighs together once more as you stabilized yourself on the sink.

aaron’s hands soothed all around your body, a whimper leaving you at the feeling of his calloused hands groping at your breasts before moving down to your soaking pussy.

as if on instinct, you spread your legs open for him, practically inviting him to dip his fingers into your folds and inside your entrance. the thickness of both his index and middle fingers stretching you out. you knew you had always loved his hands for a reason.

a moan bounced off the walls as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, moving torturously slow before he began to pick up the pace. you could feel your slick drip onto the floor and probably onto the rest of his hand, but all you could focus on was shamelessly bucking your hips into your hand and spreading your legs for even more access.

“you’re soaking, honey,” aaron says, hand coming back around to squeeze at your breast again, leaving you gasping as he pinched your nipples.

you whimpered, “just for you,”

“‘just for me?’” he repeats, “not for anyone else, right?”

you shake your head no, pussy clenching around his fingers, “j-just for you, aaron,”

his hand left your breast to smack at your ass, making you jump, “good girl,”

with that, he takes his fingers out of you, a throaty whine leaving your lips at the empty feeling. you arched your back into him, but immediately stilled at the sound of him removing his belt filled the room. you watched from the mirror in front of you as he undid his pants button, reaching past his boxers to pull out his cock.

oh shit.

your mouth dropped at the sight of his dick spring out from where it had been confined, your slick hole clenching at nothing at how big he was. you knew that aaron hotchner was definition of big dick energy, always wondered what he was secretly packing, but now you wondered if you were going to be able to take it all.

he was thick, veiny all around with girth too thick that it hurt just looking at him. as much as you could tell you wouldn’t be able to walk after this, it excited you far too much.

you gulped, meeting his eyes in the mirror, landing on his hungry gaze, “is it going to fit?” you ask quietly, trying to bring your legs back together.

“we’ll make it fit,” he says, sounding confident of himself, a hand coming to stop you from closing your legs, “will you let me know if it’s too much?”

you take another look at his cock before giving him a determined look, “i will,” you nod.

he nods back, angling your head with his hand so he could press a kiss to your mouth.

you give into him easily, arching into him until you feel the tip of his cock slip through your wet folds and line up with your entrance. you had taken dick before, but never this big, so as he gave you one last look, you took a deep breath before feeling him sink into you.

you gasp, already feeling full by just the tip, though the slickness of your pussy helping you in adjust.

“still good, honey?”

you nod again, too busy focusing on how his length was stretching you out further than his fingers had.

smack!

aaron’s hand landed another spank on your ass, making you snap your heads toward him with a confused, dumbfounded expression. he glared, “use your words.”

you huffed, doing your best to not roll your eyes, “still good,” you replied, going back to focusing on how full your pussy already felt, “is it in yet?”

“almost, baby,” you whined again, pushing your ass back onto him and earning yourself another inch inside.

humming in delight, you felt aaron begin to move, setting a slow pace as he inched himself in and out to get you used to the length that was already inside you.

“aaron,” you sighed, “give it all to me,” you pleaded at him through the mirror, “i can take it,”

he studied your expression, all needy and flushed as you tried to buck your hips further back to fill yourself up more, “let me know if it’s too much,” he warned.

you nodded eagerly but didn’t get a chance to reply as he shoved the rest of his length inside, the tip immediately hitting that one spot. you gasped loudly, the feeling of his whole cock inside you awakening a hunger inside of you, “fuck,” you moaned, dropping your hands so that you were resting with your elbows on the counter, “please, aaron. move,”

he hesitated for another moment, and just as you were about to look behind you, you felt him begin to move, pistoling his hips into your ass roughly.

you let out a shriek, your hands grabbing at anything you could reach in order to stabilize yourself as he began to mercilessly pound into you from behind. he slipped his dick in and out of you each time, your pussy hugging the veiny length each time he did.

the sounds your juices made due to you being soaked vibrated against the room each time his hips hit your ass roughly, and it only edged you on further.

“a-aaron,” you moan, breasts jiggling against the cold sink as the girth of his cock stretched you out, “aaron! oh, fuck!”

you thought you had felt good getting his attention when you were back flirting with the guy, but nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of his dick slamming into you.

from above, aaron grunted and groaned, fingers and nails digging into your hips harshly as he pounded into your perfect pussy. he loved the way you clenched around him, taking it back perfectly each time he slipped back in.

his hand reached for your hair, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you back until you were flush against him with your back still perfectly arched. he dropped his hand from your head to wrap around your neck, fingers digging into the sides.

you gasped, not having a choice as you looked at him through the now foggy mirror, the image of your body rocking with every smack against your body only adding onto the sensation.

“such a perfect pussy,” aaron grumbled into your ear, “this pussy was made for me, wasn’t it sweetheart?”

you did your best to nod regardless of how weak your body felt, of the way you could feel your slick drip down to your thighs or the way you were drooling from your open mouth, “belongs to you, aaron,” you mumble, surprisingly coherently despite the way he was choking you.

“yeah, it does,” he grunts, free hand coming to grab at your stomach again before pushing against the spot where his cock was evidently sliding in and out of you, making you squirm, “this greedy pussy belongs to me. not to that bastard you were flirting with, right, honey?”

you nod again, eyes stuck on the tummy bulge you currently displayed, your hole clenching at aaron’s cock even tighter at the way the indent disappeared when he slipped out versus when it reappeared when slipping back in.

“feels so good, aaron,” you mumble, saliva dropping from your lips and onto your pointy, practically rock hard nipples that jiggled with each thrust.

“yeah?” he asks, breath hot against your ear, “taking it so well for me, such a good girl,” he praises, hand leaving from your stomach to slither down to where your bodies connected.

you let out a squeal as his middle finger slipped through your finger and his index began to rub furiously at your swollen clit, the feeling making the knot in your stomach tighten and tighten.

you babbled aaron’s name like a loose mantra, bodies rocking together as he quickened his pace after realizing that you were close to orgasming, hand tightening around your neck and finger rubbing even faster than before.

“c’mon, honey, come for me,” he encouraged, “come all over my cock, pretty girl,”

it was all the confirmation you need to let yourself go, body shaking and aaron’s name being repeated as you chased the high, glad that he was holding you up with his hands as your whole body stuttered.

the feeling of your pussy clenching and unclenching around him violently made aaron groan, sweat dripping down his body as he began to reach his own high just from the way your body reacted to orgasming from his dick. from the way he was fucking you and from the way he was naming you as his own.

you could feel his pace falter from behind you, lazily meeting his pace as you tried to encourage him to finish, “come in me, aaron, please,” you whined, needing to feel him fill you up to the point where his come would leak out of you, “fill up my pussy, aaron,”

he gave you a look of unsureness through the mirror before you nodded at him, “i’m on the pill. it’s okay. please,”

that had been all the confirmation he need for him to finish inside you, his cock twitching inside you as his seed filled you up, making you moan as you rode out your own orgasm, still clenching tightly around him.

you giggled at the way his body practically toppled onto yours as he tried to catch himself, bodies pressed together as he held onto the counter with his dick still inside you.

he snaked his hand around the side of your face as his breath evened, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and shutting up your whines as he pulled out from inside you with a kiss to your mouth.

“jack’s at a sleepover today,” he says after a few moments of silence.

you inch an eyebrow at him, watching as he leaned over to grab some toilet paper, snatching some off the holder before wiping himself clean of you and wincing at the sensitivity as he wiped gently at your own folds and thighs, “is he now?”

he hums, tucking himself back into his boxers and quickly buttoning his pants to help you put your own clothes on, “he is,” he grabbed your discarded shorts and parties from the floor and signaled you to lift your legs, “we can go home and i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and ask you to be go on an official date with me in the morning,”

your heart pulls as he buttons up your shorts for you, reaching for your shirt, too, “i’ll only say yes if we keep going when we get home,” you admit, making him freeze in his movements.

he pinched your nipple.

#marchhotchness #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #david rossi #derek morgan #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #maddie’s stills

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clockwayswrites · 5 months

Text

A bitty bit and a poll... cw: post canon typical violence, blood, offer of smuttiness ship: Danny/Jason

“Danny.”

“Hood,” Danny said, pushing his hair back as he turned Jason’s way. His thumb ran over the shaved side of his head. A streak of blood trailed behind by the motion.

“What did they want?” Jason asked. He kicked at the side of one of the groaning thugs for emphasis as he strode over to Danny.

Danny just shrugged. “The usual.”

“Not supposed to be the usual in my territory,” Jason growled.

“Yeah, well,” Danny said with that crooked grin of his. There was something all the more feral about the grin that night between the blood and the way the harsh magenta neon that adorned the outside of Danny’s shop broke through the light rain. “I’m in that grey zone; not in one place or the other.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re my mechanic so you’re my territory.”

Danny’s grin widened and he had the audacity to wink. “Kinky.”

“What did I say about shutting up?” Jason asked as he started to look Danny over for injuries.

Danny pliantly, and almost with amusement, let Jason check him over. When Jason found a cut on the other’s arm, he huffed, tossed the bloodied tire iron Danny was holding away, and started to roll up the sleeve of the black over shirt.

“It’s fine Hood, it’s nothing,” Danny said as he peered around Jason.

Without letting go of Danny’s arm, Jason pulled out a gun and twisted enough to point it at the thug who was helping the one Jason had kicked off the ground.

“This street is off limits.”

“Ain’t Crime Alley!” the one said, spitting blood. “Old Gotham is—”

“Right over there. This street? It’s mine,” Jason said. He cocked his gun for emphasis.

“It ain’t—”

“It ain’t worth dying over! Leave it!” the other thug hissed and tried to pull them away. “If fucking Red Hood says it’s his then it’s his! Now come on.”

“Make sure you take the rest with you,” Jason ordered. He kept his gun trained on them until they were long out of sight.

“Do I still have to shut up?” Danny asked cheekily into the silence. “Because I can think of some fun ways for you to make me.”

Jason turned slowly to look at Danny. “What.”

It wasn’t exactly a question. Jason knew what Danny was implying, but what?

Danny just shrugged, still with that smile. “Can’t a man thank his knight in leather armor? I mean, totally feel free to turn me down. I’m not going to pressure someone into that sort of thing, but I figured it didn’t hurt to offer. You seem like you’re a little tense—”

As if they weren’t just in a fight.

“—and could use the release. I’m not going to pretend that I would mind being between those thighs. So what do you say, wanna let me blow you?”

Danny might as well have hit Jason with that tire iron for how his thoughts scrambled at that offer. Who the fuck did that? Danny had no reason to. Jason already made clear that Danny was under his protection. Jason had also been ramping up the amount of work he gave to Danny versus handling himself. It wasn’t like the guy needed to offer sexual favors.

Jason shook his head, as if that would clear his confusion. “Next time or something. I’ve got work.”

“Sure, wouldn’t want to keep you,” Danny said and took a step back.

“Wrap that arm.”

“What arm?”

“Danny.”

Danny laughed and tucked his hands into his pockets as he backed up into his shop. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll wrap it. Go out there and take on the big bad night, hero.”

“I’m not a fucking hero,” Jason called after him. “And lock your damn door!”

Danny gave a cheeky salute before disappearing into the shop.

Brat.

---

AN: NOW, you all know by now, I'm sure, that I love playing around with how balanced Danny is as a half and his hair color and things like that. This is the new idea I was whining about earlier. It's going to be about as pwp as I'm able to get and supposedly a one shot. Danny is very, very forward, Jason is very, very confused (and later very, very satisfied). So all that said...

#dp x dc #dead on main #offering on a chance

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lovexdeepspace · 1 month

Note

Hi ! I hope you’re having a great day! I’ve read that you are open to new ideas regarding LDS and so I thought maybe you’re able to do one where the LDS boys comfort MC when something triggering happen to them? I’m looking forward to reading your posts 💞

“i’ll always be here.”

summary; rafayel, xavier, and zayne are your island in the storm.

warnings; triggering topics (stalking / near-death experiences / [canon] death), sadness

note; thank you anon for requesting & i hope you’re having a day as lovely as you are!! 💕🫶 (will be formatting when i can, just away from my laptop for some time and i wanted to post !!)

rafayel

had your occupation as a hunter not made you to be more aware of your surroundings, you would have never caught onto the man who had been tailing you.

you stopped giving him the benefit of the doubt when he turned the corner of the dark alley many knew to be populated with the homeless and subsequently avoided. as soon as the man thought he had you cornered he picked up speed and that’s when you turned on him, pistol in hand.

“h-hey, let’s put that away,” he stammered, raising his hands up as he skidded to a stop. you didn’t budge, trying your damndest to keep your hands steady.

“turn around,” you hissed, “and walk away.”

the man didn’t waste a second, taking a few steps back before turning on his heel and making a run for it. once he turned the corner you let out a sigh of relief, shaky hands placing the pistol back into the holster at your hip. you headed back onto the main path with a clouded mind, your heartbeat ringing in your ears. without a second thought you followed the sidewalk towards the large white building that overlooked the beach, your steps hurried.

you pushed the gate open and practically ran up the paved path towards the large front doors of rafayel’s studio, grateful to find that he had accidentally left them unlocked once again. as soon as you stepped inside you pulled the doors shut once more, the lingering feeling of being followed making your skin crawl. after locking the doors you kicked off your shoes and shuffled into the main room, finding rafayel sitting on the floor with a canvas propped up in front of him.

he turned at the sound of your approaching footsteps, looking up at you with a raised brow. you clenched and unclenched your fists as you tried to think of something — anything — to say but all that came out was a choked sob. panicked, rafayel pushed himself to his feet and grabbed your shoulders then your face, looking for any injuries.

“what happened?” he asked, checking your arms and torso. “take a breath, i can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

you swallowed harshly, tears rolling down your cheeks. “a man,” you choked out, “was following me. had to threaten him for him to leave.”

rafayel’s face contorted with some combination of disgust and anger but softened as you sniffled. he held his arms out and you collapsed into his embrace, a feeling of security crashing over you as he held you tight.

“i’ve got you,” he murmured, resting his chin atop your head. “you’re safe here.”

xavier

it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

this mission was supposed to be easier yet, here you were, fighting a god damn elysian cervus. your fill-in partner was unconscious somewhere, leaving you to fight this beast on your lonesome. your shirt was soaked with blood from a gash on your torso and you were pretty sure some ribs were broken but you pressed on until delivering the final blow.

the wanderer fell, motionless on the ground. slowly you move and collect the protocore, stashing it away before searching for your partner. you found her slumped against a tree a little ways away, using your watch to call for help as you slowly settled down next to her. as you talked to the operator you pressed two fingers to the side of her neck, relieved to find a pulse.

help came not too long after you had called, carting you and your partner to the hospital for the both of you to be treated. you ended up with three broken ribs, a fractured ankle, and lots of stitches across your abdomen.

“you got very lucky,” a nurse had informed you the following day as she checked your vitals. “whatever had caused that nasty gash just barely missed some of your organs.”

“lucky me,” you muttered, laying back in the hospital bed. “when will i be able to go home?”

the nurse checked some papers on her clipboard. “the doctor wrote here that he’d like to keep you another couple days. just get some rest, sweetheart.”

she left and you sighed, turning your head to look out the window. the silence was peaceful and you admired the city, thinking of how serene it looked from this angle. a small knock at your door had you flinch and you covered your heart with a sigh of relief when you saw xavier standing there.

“how’re you feeling?” he asked, settling in a chair at your side. the bouquet of flowers he had brought were set gently on your bedside table, his eyes never leaving you. the guilt in his stare was unmistakable and you knew it was eating him up inside that he had been unavailable to accompany you on the mission.

“like shit,” you responded with a low chuckle, “but i’ll be okay. doc says i should be able to head home in a couple days but i’ll be off active duty for some time.”

xavier nodded, reaching out and grabbing one of your hands in both of his as he said your name quietly. “you need to rest. you’ve been pushing yourself so hard and haven’t been giving yourself a break like i’ve suggested.”

you tried to interrupt but xavier squeezed your hand and you noticed the slight tremble in his grip and the tears that were forming in his eyes as he continued.

“i could’ve lost you! so, please, think about yourself for once or — allow me to be selfish — think about me. think about how much losing you would impact my life!”

you stared at him as he swallowed harshly, taking one hand away to wipe at his eyes while he mumbled an apology. you reached out and cupped the side of his face, running your thumb over his cheekbone tenderly.

“i’m sorry,” you murmured. “i’ll rest. i never meant to worry you so much, xav.”

he sighed, leaning into your touch. “i came here to comfort you and look at how the tables turned.”

you smiled. “you did more than enough, xavier. as much as i need rest, you need to be comforted and that’s alright.”

zayne

the last couple hours were no better than a blur to you.

one second you’re standing outside your grandmother’s front door, the next you’re on your stomach, surrounded by flames and the house in front of you was no more than rubble. your body ached and you weakly call out for caleb and your grandmother, trying desperately to pull yourself toward the house. your fingers meet something cool and you glance down to find the chain of caleb’s necklace caught on your pinky.

your heart sinks and you pull the necklace close to your body, sobbing caleb’s name as you curl up on the walkway. your eyes shut and you aren’t sure how much time passed because when you open them again you’re in akso hospital, laid on a bed in a dimly lit room.

you look to your hands and feel panic rise in your chest when you don’t see caleb’s necklace. your heart hammered in your chest as your hands scanned the blanket covering your lower half, hoping it was somewhere on the bed.

“i put it on your bedside table.”

zayne, sitting on a couch near the window of your room, stood and moved to stand by your bedside. he picked up caleb’s necklace from your bedside table and he gingerly placed it in your awaiting hands, grief evident in his expression.

“i’m sorry for your loss,” he murmured, his hand lingering near yours as he spoke. he slowly sat on the edge of your bed and finally grabbed your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “i’ve taken the next week off to stay with you, if you’d like. you should be able to leave tomorrow morning and whether you want to stay at your place or mine is up to you entirely.”

your eyes stayed glued to your hands, one clutching caleb’s necklace while the other held zayne’s tightly. you wanted to respond or even show a sliver of gratitude but your mind was weighed down by the heavy loss of caleb and your grandmother. the heat and force of the explosion was still so fresh on your skin and all you could do was grieve. sobs shook your whole body and zayne tentatively moved closer, carefully pulling you into his embrace.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered, chin resting atop your head as one hand cradled the back of your head and the other gently rubbed up and down your back. tears of his own rolled down his cheeks as he continued to whisper comfort to you while you clung to him and cried.

#love and deepspace #rafayel #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #lads xavier #lads zayne #xavier #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #zayne #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #oracleofstars

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itsbeeble · 5 months

Text

BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT

THE TBZ FRAT HOUSE IS HOSTING THE BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT COLLAB BY @juyeonszn AND @itsbeeble!

YOU'RE INVITED!

PAIRINGS: tbz x f!reader

GENRES: smut, fluff, minimal angst, crack

WARNINGS: smut, minor angst, fluff, mentions of injuries, alcohol, swearing, more warnings to be added to the individual fics 18+ MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

SUMMARY: Have you ever wondered what your favorite frat boyz are up to in their personal lives? If so, then these fics are just for you! Join us as we take a glimpse into the Tau Beta Zeta fraternity and see what they get up to in their free time!

MORE: The way me and Fawn have been planning this for so long omgggg. Me and Fawn are so excited to announce this collab in celebration of my 1 year on tumblr, 6 year anniversary of The Boyz, AND as just a fun little event!! I hope you guys are as excited for this as I am hehe. And please feel free to send an ask or comment on this post if you'd like to be tagged in each part!!

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

FALL SEMESTER

TRY HARD — LEE JUYEON (12/6)

Need to get rid of some junk? Well these college hunks will haul YOUR junk! Give us a call at xxx-xxx-JUNK and we’ll haul YOUR junk for FREE! (limited time offer)

EXCITEMENT — JI CHANGMIN (12/6)

You know, when you told your girl friends that you’d never finished before, you were expecting it to blow over like no big deal. What you weren’t expecting was for it to spiral into a whole other mess.

SEEING STARS — KIM SUNWOO (12/10)

It’s slightly embarrassing how Sunwoo is naive enough to take Eric Sohn’s “advice” to heart. Luckily, you like idiots. Especially when they kick a ball into your face and agree to do a semester’s worth of schoolwork for you.

CLUMSY — JU HAKNYEON (12/10)

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.

"FRIENDLY" COMPETITION — LEE SANGYEON (12/14)

The TBZ frat had always had a rivalry with the KAT sorority. At least, they did when you and Sangyeon became the presidents three years ago. What happens when you mix a little friendly competition into this rivalry of yours?

JE NE SAIS QUOI — JACOB BAE (12/14)

Jacob thought the concept of fraternities was stupid. So stupid that despite every single one of his friends being in one, he still refused to join. However, after meeting you at one of the TBZ parties, he’s starting to think maybe they’re not that horrible.

SPRING SEMESTER

LET LOOSE — KIM YOUNGHOON (12/19)

Younghoon has hated you since the day he met you. He thought you were stuck up with that better-than-you princess attitude of yours. What better than to just…fuck it right out of you?

(NO) STRINGS ATTACHED — LEE HYUNJAE (12/19)

Becoming friends with Lee Hyunjae after his valiant attempt to save your life (stopping you from drunk driving) was certainly not on your year’s bingo card. Also not on your bingo card? Waking up in his bed every other night following, but it’s not like you’re really complaining.

NO BITCHES? — ERIC SOHN (12/22)

When you met Eric, you’d thought he was just another frat boy, looking to get into any woman’s pants (particularly yours at that moment). You never would’ve thought that he was just a loser who really liked FNAF and just thought you were pretty.

PARTY O'CLOCK — CHOI CHANHEE (12/22)

In spite of being a frat boy himself, Chanhee could never actually see himself enjoying the luxuries of the title. Besides, how could he with all the responsibilities of being treasurer? Enter you and your carefree spirit and Chanhee’s got a real big problem on his hands.

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER — KEVIN MOON (PT. 1 | PT. 2)

It wasn’t like you and Kevin hated each other. In fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. Well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

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knottyk · 2 years

Text

Caught in the Act

Pairings: Eddie x Henderson!Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Eddie cancels the campaign and Dustin, along with Mike and Lucas, wants to know what is so important to tear the strict Dungeon Master away from his beloved club.

Warnings: implied sexual themes, profanity, um idk let me know if i missed anything lol

edit: crying over how sweet everyone is! And my first post to reach 1k notes accckkkkk!!

The campaign that was originally set for tonight had been pushed for whatever reason and the gang had nowhere else to go. They had already let their parents know that they’ll be out late so why waste the chance for some late night exploring?

“What if we go to The Hideout. It’s a popular hang out spot now, right?” Lucas kicked a pebble from under his sneakers.

“I bet Eddie’s there. Think of it.” Dustin nodded as he tried to convince the other two. “He never moves the meetings for anything or anyone. Gives us shit for not attending and suddenly he’s not free tonight? I call bull.”

“We’ll catch him in the act. Then he won’t have anything on us next time.” Lucas agreed as his palm met Dustin’s and they chuckled in excitement.

“And what if he’s not there?” They both turned to Mike who had his hands stuffed in his pockets, shrugging.

“Then he’s not there! We’ll just come back to your place and, I don’t know, do something. Besides, I’ll need a ride home from Y/N. She’s doing some project with Nancy.”

With a half-assed back up plan, the trio set off towards the infamous pub in their Hellfire shirts. The place was littered with people both young and old.

They walked into the place with heads held high as people they recognised from school watched them tread like they owned the place. In addition to being a school night, they were also freshmen. What better way to earn the cool points by being seen at a place as intimidating as The Hideout.

“Let’s just see if he’s here and get outta here.” Mike slightly yelled over the loud music playing in the background, lungs already clouded by the nearby smoke by several lit cigarettes.

They quickly scanned the place but it didn’t take long to spot the messy mop of hair that stood out in all of Hawkins.

“Eddie! You lying son of a bitch!” Dustin yelled as they jogged toward the bar, laughing. “We got you!”

At first, Eddie was confused as to why he’s hearing the freshman’s voice at a place he never expected to but his emotion was quickly replaced with an obvious panic as he turned to address the boys without fully turning his body away from the bar.

With a tight lipped smile, he spoke. “Henderson, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in bed in like, what? Twenty minutes?”

He looked at his wristwatch as he fixed a few strands of hair stuck to his face and mouth, his bangs slightly stuck to his forehead with sweat.

“Aren’t we supposed to be doing the campaign?” They crossed their arms as they examine him with shit eating grins etched on their faces. They caught him.

“Well, things happen and you know… things happened.”

As Eddie somewhat explained, Dustin’s eyes linger on the pair of legs dangling over Eddie’s hips. He couldn’t see anything else as the person ducked behind Eddie’s broad back. He tried peering over but Eddie was quick to block him.

Though Dustin quickly realised that he didn’t need to see who it was to know. It was those pristine white sneakers he loathed seeing resting in the shoe racks by the front door. He’d always wanted to smear the underside of his shoes on your white ones just so it wasn’t so clean.

Though he knew you’d kill him because they were your favorite pair. The one you always wore with the stupidly coordinated outfits to school as his friends snickered at him about you being neat and presentable while he was the other way around.

The type to be recognised from a crowd of people. The type to be lined up with the likes of Nancy Wheeler and Chrissy Cunningham. The good, perfect girls of Hawkins High.

“Y/N?” He blurted out and despite the loud music, you heard him clearly. Mike and Lucas shifted their gaze between Dustin, Eddie and eventually, you.

Over Eddie’s shoulder, you waved. “Dustin! Funny seeing you here.”

Eddie finally parted with the bar and stepped to the side with his hand on his nape while you jump off from the counter, smoothing over your skirt that rode up your leg.

“What the hell, Y/N? Aren’t you supposed to be with Nancy?” Dustin was frantic.

Tonight was all about catching their strict dungeon master knee deep in his hypocritical bullshit but what he found was like stepping on a lego or cow shit. Either way, he was disgusted by the idea of whatever you and eddie were doing when they arrived or even before they arrived.

“Look, I think we’re all somewhere we’re not supposed be tonight.” You put a hand on his shoulder as you looked Mike and Lucas in the eye.

Their eyes darted everywhere else except yours. Maybe it was the fact that they know they’re not supposed to be in an adult-only place or the fact that your bra was peeking from your unbuttoned shirt that was now all scrunched up. Who knows?

“You’re not telling on me are you, Dusty?” You ask your brother who had is mouth agape.

“I mean, The Hideout is not really the place mom would be thrilled to see you in either. You and I would be in great trouble and you can kiss that free trip to Utah goodbye.” You nod slowly as you laid out the facts. “Think about it.”

You promised to be Dustin’s ride to Utah during the spring break in exchange for him covering for your ass from the many times he caught your bedroom empty and windows opened during unholy hours of the night. He didn’t question it then.

Dustin peered behind you and saw Eddie leaning on the bar where you sat earlier. His lips curved in what looked to be an apologetic smile. Upon seeing Dustin’s face, he let out a two finger salute.

Eddie had thought of the many ways he’d let the secret loose on your little brother but this was not one of the ideal scenarios. Somehow, he felt bad for the way it turned out but glad that the cat’s out of the bag.

Dustin sighs and nods.

“Good.” You take off his cap and shuffle his curly hair, earning a groan. “Be home by 10.”

“Eleven.” He bargained, sizing up to you.

Considering tonight’s events, you thought of letting him off easy.

“And lunch is on you for a month.”

“No.”

“Two months.”

“No.”

“A week.”

“Fine.”

With that, they hurried out of the bar, pushing one another to get out as fast as they could. You could hear them talk amongst themselves as they ran out.

“Holy shit, Eddie’s dating your sister.”

“Holy shit, Eddie’s dating my sister.”

“Wait, does that mean she’s the hot girlfriend Eddie was talking about.”

The gushing drowned out and you face Eddie who was sipping at his canned beer.

“We scarred him.” He chuckled. “I’m never gonna hear the end of this.”

“You talk about me?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, is that bad?”

You nodded as you caged him with your arms at either side of the counter.

“Looks like you got it bad, Munson.”

You catch his lips with yours, slick with a tinge of bitterness from the beer but it drowns in the sweet taste of Eddie’s soft lips. His bottom lip caught in between your teeth as he let out a groan, hands smoothing over the arch of your back.

Like no one was watching, you guide Eddie’s hands further past what is considered appropriate in a public setting.

He jerks his hand away while looking around, checking for any watchful eyes as the scene unfolded. You cup his cheek and put his hand back on the curve of your ass, skirt starting to ride up your leg once more as you spread them slightly to make way for Eddie in between.

“I have to go back on stage in five.” He whispers, hot breath fanning your face.

“Then, I guess we’d have to be quick.”

You don’t know how you’ll face your brother over breakfast tomorrow like nothing happened the night before. But you let the thoughts of tomorrow fly over your head as you were already pulling Eddie to one of the empty bathroom stalls.

masterlist

a/n: haha omg i was washing the dishes when i thought of this. when i tell you i stopped my chores to write this asap. i'd forget in a second if i didn't <3

#eddie imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x henderson!reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie fluff #eddie smut #dustin henderson #dustin x sister!reader #stranger things x fem!reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n

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faye-writes-stuff · 1 year

Text

welp here we go again

INCORRECT QUOTES TIMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

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Y/n: petition to remove the 'd' from Wednesday Dream: Wednesay Y/n: Not what I had in mind, but I'm flexible

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Y/n: Dream, stop! This isn't you, you've gone mad with power! Dream: Well of course I have. Dream: Have you ever tried going mad without power? Dream: It's boring.

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Y/n: Today is a day of running through hurdles. Ranboo: Aren’t you supposed to jump OVER hurdles? Y/n: Whatever. Fear is only something to be afraid of if you let it scare you.

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Y/n: Ranboo... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor? Ranboo: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned. Y/n: Y/n: I wrote sanitize, Ranboo

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Y/n: Sorry it took me so long to bail you out of jail Sapnap: No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t’ve used my one phone call to prank call the police

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Y/n: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming Sapnap: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak

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George: Welcome, fellow idiots Y/n: Hello, George George: No, no, not you, you're not an idiot Y/n: You underestimate me

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George: *Gets down on one knee* Y/n: Oh my god, it’s finally happening. George: *Falls over* Y/n: The poison is kicking in.

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Tommy: Change is inedible. Y/n: Don't you mean inevitable? Tommy, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

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Tommy: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Y/n's been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get them out...

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Tubbo: Man, I only ever see you awake, do you ever shut down or stop running? Y/n: Oh, I’m always running Y/n: The question is from what

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Tubbo: I know you’re deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are. Y/n: It’s not a joke. Y/n: *sniffles* Y/n: I’m a legit snack.

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Foolish: Lol heads up if you try to make a candle with food coloring, the food coloring will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food coloring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food coloring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter. Please take my word on this lmfao Y/n: What did you do op? Foolish: A MISTAKE

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Y/n: Foolish... Foolish: Oh no, 'Foolish' in b-flat. Foolish: You're disappointed.

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Technoblade: WHAT’S YOUR TYPE Y/n: Anything, honestly, but nerds especially Technoblade, desperately, as Y/n bleeds out: YOUR BLOOD TYPE Y/n: Oh! B positive. Technoblade: DONT TRY TO CHEER ME UP JUST TELL ME YOUR BLOOD TYPE Y/n:

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Technoblade, in a meeting: My policy is if you see something, say something. Y/n: I saw a squirrel in a tree today! Technoblade, with the tone of someone who is used to Y/n: Outstanding. Technoblade: This is what I’m talking about people.

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Technoblade: You're the love of my life and my best friend, I would do anything for you. Y/n: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule. Technoblade: Absolutely not.

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i accidentally hit post on this too early so if you saw this b4 it was finished- no you didn't

ANYWAYS enjoy, because the last one got over 300 likes so

ic master list :)

#techno x reader #technoblade x reader #platonic technoblade x reader #ranboo x reader #platonic ranboo x reader #tommyinnit x y/n #tommyinnit x reader #platonic tommy x reader #platonic!sapnap x reader #platonic tubbo x reader #platonic bench trio x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #dsmp incorrect quotes #sapnap x reader #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound x y/n #Faye writes #Faye's incorrect quotes

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creative-crybaby · 1 year

Text

Phantom Limbs

PAIRING: Takami Keigo (Hawks) x fem!reader

GENRE: angst | comfort | smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: dry humping, nipple play, spit play, light manhandling, hair pulling, creampie, overstimulation, marking (scratches)

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

SUMMARY: Having lost his wings, there's only so much Takami can do to help other heroes and save innocent civilians. And with him having even less time on his hands, you do whatever you can to take care of him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Posting on my birthday is like a little gift from me to me :)

You wait by the windows out of habit.

The book in your hand has remained open on the same page for the past fifteen minutes, your eyes reading the words, but your brain too distracted to process them. Your focus is more on the corners of your peripheral vision, hoping to catch something, anything outside. All that’s offered in the great outdoors is grey skies and an even greyer atmosphere. Though, you suppose you should know better by now.

Because, as of late, he’s been entering your shared home through the front door.

The sound of the jiggling knob has you up from your seat in a second; you slam your book shut and toss it onto the coffee table (never mind saving your page). You’re at the entrance when the door fully opens, anxiously shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Takami’s eyes widen ever so slightly at your rushed movements, but he then exhales as he kicks off his boots.

“Honey, I’m home,” the Pro Hero quips, though his tone and smile lack his usual energy. You greet him back while helping him remove his jacket, the material cold and damp in your hands. You get a better look at him once you turn back to him. With the harsh weather and being outside for who knows how long, it’s only natural for him to deal with those conditions’ blunt force. Soaked to the bone, he shivers, though you can tell he’s trying to stop his movements. His blonde hair is now a dark gold from the rain, stray strands sticking to his forehead. It’s a miracle his skin isn’t blue, but he’s definitely a few shades too pale. And his eyes—they haven’t known rest even before the Paranormal Liberation War, but dealing with the aftermaths of such a tragedy takes its toll even on the strongest of heroes.

You gently rest your hand on his cheek, your thumb lovingly caressing the new scar on his skin. “What are you doing out there?”

Takami sighs, relaxing in your hold before shifting his head to peck your palm. “Oh, the usual.”

You’d press for more if the look he gave you weren’t one of exhaustion, almost pleading. Instead, you rake the fingers of your free hand through his hair, careful not to tug on any knots.

“How about a shower?” you hum. “I’ll even help you out.”

The blonde mumbles something in agreement, seemingly too low on energy for any more words, before following you to the bathroom.

Several months back in your relationship, you’d struggle to have him in your home, what with his gigantic wings. He’d rarely knock over your belongings due to his cautiousness, but it didn’t change that your apartment wasn’t Wing-Hero-friendly.

That was the least of your problems when he decided to stay over. Your bed wasn’t big enough for the two of you, and you’d wake up in the morning to find his wings positioned uncomfortably. Even when Hawks would dismiss your concern, you weren’t fooled. But going from queen-sized to king-sized wasn’t an issue compared to your bathroom. Even sharing the space with a wingless person was bound to have you two bump into each other, and yet, your boyfriend made himself at home.

With your apartment now nothing more than a pile of rubble, all those concerns seem foolish, almost cruel, as you actually went out of your way to get a larger bed for him.

What’s crueller is that a smaller space would no longer be an issue now that his wings are gone.

You can’t help but think about all of this bitterly every time you two enter the shower. The one in Takami’s home is far bigger, made to accommodate his wings, but it’s all just empty space. He settles on the shower stool with a heavy exhale, and you stand behind him to wash his hair, letting the warm water wash away whatever pessimistic thoughts crawl back to taunt you. At least you can take comfort in seeing the Pro Hero visibly relax under your touch, tilting his head back as your fingers thoroughly massage his scalp.

You’re extra careful when washing his body. The scar on his back makes you pause before resuming your task, and while the blonde notices your hesitance, he doesn’t comment. It’s not the only mark on his body, but it’s certainly the largest. Maybe one day, you’ll come to pepper the area with kisses as you would with all the other scars that litter his body. For now, knowing how it ended up on him hits you with the anxieties of “what if.”

Having kept your hair up and out of the way, you cover yourself in a towel before assisting your boyfriend out of the shower. He wraps a towel around his hips and sighs a silent thank you before you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. It’s all either of you say for a while, even while you dry his hair with him settled in front of you, between your thighs and facing away.

The hot water flushes his skin, a sight that helps you relax as you run a towel through his locks. You let it rest around his neck once you’re done, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his torso.

“Want me to make you something to eat?” you ask quietly. “You must be starving.”

“I’m okay,” he hums. Your fingers skate across the blonde’s abdomen, drawing random shapes and patterns and making him shiver. “I just want to stay like this for a bit longer.”

You shift your head to rest your chin on his shoulder, the fluffy material of the towel tickling your skin. “Then let me get you some clothes so you don’t catch a cold.”

The Pro Hero gently removes himself from your embrace, turning to face you. Your wrists remain in his grasp, and he brings them to his lips to kiss both of your palms.

“That won’t be necessary,” he mumbles against your skin, eyes fluttering closed. “Stay.”

His voice has a light rasp, and you’re sure you catch the subtle pleading in his tone. You sigh, sliding your hands to caress his face. Takami’s eyes open again, golden irises peering up at you as his brows furrow lightly. There’s a gentle tug to his hold, and you shift closer to him.

“So much for all that time to kill,” you try to quip, though you don’t find your tone convincing. For good measure, you trace his jaw with featherlight kisses. “Even with the Safety Commission out of the way, you can’t catch a break.”

He chuckles airily. “It was never going to be all that simple, dove. You and I both know that.”

You pout at his words. The pull of his grasp reappears, and you’re brought closer to your boyfriend until you’re almost sitting on his lap. One of his hands slides to your waist, encouraging you to do so. You obey, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck. Back when he had his wings, your fingertips would graze their base, earning you breathy moans from him. With them now gone, you settle for lightly scratching at his undercut.

“Must be exhausted with everything going on,” you whisper, the tip of your nose gently grazing against his.

“Coming home to you makes it all worth it,” Takami breathes before closing the gap. You both exhale into the kiss as you pull each other closer. Even with a towel in the way, he runs his hands up and down your torso, opting to feel you as much as possible. Once you’ve removed yourself from the embrace, he still attaches his lips to any exposed skin he can find.

“Keigo,” you whimper, trying to hold still as he nibbles on your neck. “Are you sure? You need rest.”

You feel the Pro Hero shake his head without pausing the assault on the skin. “I need you.”

Even before destruction fell upon the country, you’ve worried for Takami’s safety. With his wings, he could reach the clouds; any higher could take the oxygen out of his lungs. He’s capable, but also human: even the overly glorified ones have limits. And as much as you want him to be well, you miss him just as much.

You unlatch him from you without tugging too hard, and you’re met with glossy eyes and quivering lips. That desperation has been stuck in his tone and gaze since he returned home. Needing you close in any physical manner that’s given to him, his focus staying on you a little longer than what one may consider necessary. You remember when you’d beg him to stay in bed a bit longer before he went on patrol, putting on your best pout to convince him.

But now he's the one begging, pleading for your touch. And with the subtle poking of your thigh, you’re given more than enough convincing. Your lips return to mesh with his as you attempt to remove your towel with what little wiggle room you have. Takami takes this opportunity to let his hands roam your bare skin, tracing your curves and groping at any fat he can find while leaving a trail of goosebumps. The towel around his neck slides off, and you’d remove the last one if you could, but for now, you make the most of the situation by grinding into his lap, his bulge rubbing against your clit deliciously.

He’s restless; you noticed the signs before you found yourself on top of him. The Pro Hero moans into your mouth, his hands quick to grip your hips to drag them across his own. He pushes for a deeper kiss, if even possible, letting his tongue taste yours. You’re in desperate need of oxygen, and you’re sure he’s in the same state. When you pull away, he leans in to catch your lips once more.

“Let me take over,” you pant, resting your forehead against his. “Let me make you feel good.”

“No,” Takami groans lowly, eyes lidded and face flushed. “Need this. Need to do this for you.” He slowly flips you both from your current position so you lay on the mattress caged below his arms and legs. With a shadow looming over his handsome features, his eyes glow gold. “It’s selfish of me, I know, but I’ll take good care of you, too. Show you how much you mean to me.”

His words make your eyes soften, your arms wrapping around his neck again and pulling him close. Neither of your gazes leaves each other, not even as the towel ever so slowly loosens from his hips and cascades off his body. With your lips mere centimetres away, you’d have to give him credit for showing restraint thus far.

“You can never be selfish when you deserve the world,” you say before closing the distance. A growl escapes his throat; from your words or your taste, you aren’t sure, and you don’t care to figure it out. Not when he pulls away to trail messy open-mouthed kisses down your neck, stopping at your collarbone before latching on to one of your nipples. Your back arches into his touch, and his other hand tweaks at your neglected bud.

From your peripheral vision, you catch his shoulder blades twitch. You’d remember how his wings would ruffle when you two would make love, showing just as much vulnerability as the rest of him. The base of his crimson limbs was especially sensitive, and he’d let out the most beautiful sounds whenever they’d meet your touch. With them gone, the subtle movement is mere muscle memory. But when they jerk again once your fingers tug his somewhat-damp locks, you know better than to dismiss his body’s reactions.

Takami unlatches from your nipple to press his face between your breasts, inhaling deeply while his hand continues its treatment on the other bud. The sudden halt in his ministrations has you peering down at him, face warm while showing your confusion.

Still pressed against your chest, his gaze meets yours, eyes hooded and ravenous. “I can’t wait any longer.”

You exhale, trying your best to prevent your breathing from stammering. “Then don’t.”

Those two words were more than enough for the blonde, quickly propping himself up before pulling you closer to his body by your legs. The sudden shift makes you yelp, but Takami doesn’t say anything as he pumps his cock, using his precum as lube. His touches had you already dripping, and watching him stroke himself as he watches you with desperation and lust in his eyes only adds to the mess between your thighs.

Normally, he’d take his time with you. The Pro Hero, known for his speed when defeating villains, would throw all that out the window when you were in the picture, wanting to enjoy every second he has with you. This also applies to love-making, opting to prep you by treasuring your body and pleasure before the main event.

But with how he’s currently panting as he aims his cock at your entrance, his face and neck flushed, you’re more than content to indulge in his neediness.

His attempt at restraint is apparent as he takes his time sliding in. The tip makes you whine, and the blonde’s brows crease as he slowly adds another inch. His hold, now on your hips, is bruising, even as his thumbs would caress your skin. It makes you hiss, reaching up and making grabbing motions for him. Takami obeys, dropping to bury his head in the junction of your neck and inhaling your scent. A mistake: one where the consequences earn you a groan and the rest of his cock slammed inside your soaked pussy.

“Keigo!” you cry, pulling him closer.

Curses tumble from his lips. “‘M sorry, dove. I—oh, God…”

If being stuffed full without warning didn’t make you so delirious, you’d swear you heard him whimper. His calloused hands wander your body while his lips sprinkle kisses onto your shoulder: an apology, one you drunkenly accept as you try to adjust to the intrusion. A snug fit—it makes you wrap your legs around his hips. Your actions have the Pro Hero shifting to face you. He resembles a lost puppy, with his slightly-parted lips and wide eyes beneath furrowed brows of concern. You almost coo.

“Go ahead,” you whisper, fingers dancing across his undercut. “Use me.”

The expression he gives you before he reels his hips back is pleading and one of gratitude. You barely register it before he slams back into you and knocks the air out of your lungs.

Takami finds his pace in no time, pounding against you that the sound of skin slapping skin overpowers both of your heavy breathing. Every thrust has you squeezing around his shaft, and he rests his forehead against yours.

Everything is burning—the room, your mangled bodies, his breath fanning against your cheek. You’re boiling, your brain melting into a puddle of nothingness as your hands fly to his back, your nails planting into his shoulder blades. Your boyfriend’s eyes screw shut, a sharp grunt escaping him. You want to apologize; you should apologize, but you don’t realize your actions, and with his sudden angle shift, words fail you with every probe at your sweet spot. All you can give him is pathetic moans through a slack jaw.

His lips meet your swollen ones: you give him plenty.

“Keigo,” you manage to slur against his mouth. Takami bites your bottom lip, one of his hands reaching between your bodies to messily rub your puffy clit. You wail, and he pulls away from the assault on your lips.

“Open,” he heaves. Surprisingly, you not only understand but comply, letting your mouth fall open once more for his hungry gaze. Through glossy eyes, you barely see him puckering his lips and letting a blob of spit fall into your awaiting tongue. You squeak when it lands before you swallow the tiny puddle. His thrusts don’t falter throughout all of this, and his lewd act of possessiveness tips you over the edge, your weeping pussy creaming around his dick and leaving a gooey ring at its base. A sight you’d love to witness if your vision wasn’t currently white.

But Takami doesn’t stop. Not while you ride through your orgasm, not once you come down from it, and certainly not when you begin to cry from the overstimulation.

“Keigo!” you squeal, tightening your hold on his back. “Too much! ‘S too much!”

His speed has yet to falter, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Not that your lover is any better, what with his vision gone hazy and grip tightening.

“Almost there, baby.” You can feel his warm breath fanning your face from his panting. “Just lemme—” His thrusts grow sloppier, jackhammering into your cunt like his life depends on it, all while whimpering “pleasepleasepleaseplease” on a loop. A particularly rough thrust has you wailing and your nails clawing down his back. Takami lets out a drawn-out groan. “Sh-Shit—”

The tiniest push and he’s hurtled over you, eyes screwed shut and jaw slack as his hips stutter. His face is flushed, close to rivalling the colour of his wings, and strands of his dishevelled hair clings to his forehead with sweat. Even with an unfocused gaze and a foggy brain, you can tell he’s as ethereal as ever as he fills you with hot ropes of cum.

You feel his muscles relax under your hold, and the Pro Hero exhales deeply before dropping on top of you. The sudden weight, while at first crushing, eventually feels like a weighted blanket, and you wrap your arms around your lover once more.

It isn’t until both your breathings are regulated do you speak, your words somewhat muffled against his skin. “You okay, pretty bird?”

Takami sighs, planting a kiss on your temple before pulling out. You shiver at the feeling of his cum leaking out; he notices, opting to caress your sides to calm you down. He can only offer a hum in confirmation at your question, the vibrations buzzing off his body and tickling yours.

When he gets off you, he also dismounts the bed, making his way to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. It isn’t until he twists his body to have his back face it do you catch the red scratch marks on his shoulder blades, vibrant and right on top of his most recent battle scar. You gasp.

“I’m so sorry, Kei,” guilt is evident in your voice as you sit up on the bed, hugging the sheets. “I should have been more careful. Let me go get—”

A soft, airy chuckle interrupts your worrying. The blonde traces one of your marks, shifting his shoulder blades before fully facing you.

“It’s like they never left,” he rasps, lips twitching to form a sad smile. “Too bad I won’t be able to fly with them.”

Your brows knit together as you frown at his words, your eyes growing warm as they threaten to rain down tears. Your lover’s expression doesn’t budge as he approaches you, climbing the bed and finding his spot next to yours. He laughs dryly to himself, and it only dies down once you place your hand on his.

“Please, talk to me,” you whisper, leaning your head on his shoulder.

What remains of his front is cut off by a hiccup. It isn’t until you feel his body tremble do you peer at him to find streams of tears cascading down his rosy cheeks.

“Sometimes it feels like they’re still there,” he sobs silently, pausing to collect himself. You’re quick to pull him into your embrace, and he melts completely. “Even with the Commission out of the way, I still feel trapped.” He pulls back to look at you with pleading eyes. “I thought wings were a symbol of freedom. What happened?”

Hawks is gone, and before you is Keigo. A Pro Hero so young and forced onto such a high pedestal that one wrong step is a heavy drop. Without his wings, only you are there to catch him.

And with all the strength you can muster, you do so, carrying his weight in your arms as he falls apart, trembling and crying and heaving so hard you fear he’ll slip between your fingers into a pile of nothingness. For as long as you’ve known him, Takami has only ever born his soul to you like this fewer times than you can count on one hand. If he could save the lives of countless civilians (including your own), you figure that being his safety net is the least you can do.

A weak snicker escapes his lips, and you pull back to face him.

“Tokoyami’s been calling a bunch these past several days,” he drawls, his thumb mindlessly caressing your arm while staring past your shoulder. “Never answered him back, not even once. I should at least call the kid.”

Your boyfriend’s about to get up before you try to hold him in his spot without using too much force (not that you’d be able to stop him). His questioning gaze trails to you, and no matter how much you want to coddle him until he wants you gone, you keep your head up.

“Not now, honey,” You rest your forehead against his. “One step at a time. You can apologize tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll understand. He’s a smart kid.”

He sniffles, and you wipe a stray tear from his cheek. “You’re probably right.”

His breathing appears even, and the crying seems to have subsided, even if just for now. You offer a small smile.

“How about a meal?” you inquire, nudging your nose against his. “Whatever you want.”

The Pro Hero hums, tiredly copying your expression. “Can we just stay like this? Just for a bit longer?”

Your smile grows wider ever so slightly as you fall back onto the mattress, your hold on your lover bringing him down with you and having him land on your chest. Your gaze is soft when you peer down, and your fingers are back in his hair to comb out the mess you made. He sighs into your skin, burying himself there as his eyes flutter shut.

“We can stay like this as long as you want.” And you mean it. Even once his wings return, even once the people grow to trust him again, and even once heroes have time to kill. You would stay with him right here forever.

#mha smut #bnha smut #hawks smut #takami keigo smut #hawks #takami keigo #hawks x reader #takami x reader #smut #angst #my hero academia smut #boku no hero academia smut #fanfiction #fanfic

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bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove · 3 months

Text

Sick as a Dog - S.Snape

Summary - She wasn't surprised when she got sick but she was surprised with how adamant her husband was for her to rest.

Pairings - Severus Snape x Professor!Reader

Warnings - Use of Y/N, female reader, sickness(cold), stress, lack of sleep, not eating right, mentions of food

Based off of this request by @ghulehh666 Thanks for the request!

Author's Note - Sorry for the nearly week long delay, my classes have been kicking my ass even though its only the second week. This is quite short once again because I started this last week and finished it today so I definitely lost my train of thought with this one.

Expect delays in my posting! My semester has started and I am taking 4 classes! Please be patient with me!

My requests are open!

my masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged

Enjoy!

She wasn’t surprised when she ended up getting a cold. She had been working like a dog to get all of her grades done, she hadn’t been sleeping, she wasn’t eating right and she was stressed beyond belief. It was the perfect storm for a cold to take her out.

When she woke in the morning and couldn’t breathe out of her nose or swallow due to a sore throat. But, she got out of bed anyway, making her way back to her office to finish her grading. Once again skipping breakfast which raised alarm bells in her husband’s head once he realized her absence.

Severus knew that she wasn’t feeling well, she was snoring up a storm all night because of her blocked sinuses. She had woken him up a few times during the night but he would never tell her that. Like the good husband he is, he made her a plate and made his way to her office, just knowing that she’d be there. He found her sitting at her desk, surrounded by papers and tissues, sniffling and coughing excessively.

“Darling, go to bed, I’ll finish your grading,” He told her.

“No, I can do it, I’m fine,” she insisted without looking up, her nose so blocked up fine sounded like find.

“Y/N,” His voice deepened which caused her to look up. Her nose was chapped, her lips cracked and bloody, her eyes glassy and her skin was a few shade lighter than usual, “Go back to bed, I will finish your grading.”

“Can I just stay with you while you do it? I feel like we haven’t spent time together.”

“Fine, but only because I want to make sure you aren’t doing anything you’re not supposed to.”

They both knew that was a lie, Severus was the most touchy person she had met, he never not had a hand on her when they were together. Both of them were feeling touch-starved from working so much, choosing to enjoy being together even if she was ill. Severus had motioned for her to get up which she did, he took her spot in the chair and pulled her onto his lap. She picked on the food that he had brought her as he took to grading the rest of her papers. At some point, she had managed to fall asleep, her head falling back onto his shoulder, snoring away in his ear.

Severus chuckled as he finished grading her last assignment, gently waking her and leading her back to their shared quarters where they both could rest in the comfort of their bed. He took over playing nurse and made sure she was nursed back to health. Refusing to let her lift a finger and insisting she stay in bed.

Neither of them complaining because it meant endless cuddles and lots of quality time which they were both desperately needing.

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#harry potter #severus snape x reader #professor snape #pro snape #severus snape #snape #snape love #severus snape imagine #pro severus snape #severus #snape fanfiction #severus snape x y/n #snape x reader #snape x y/n #snape x you #request

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 6 months

Note

I’m back with my Hunter brainrot, thanks to your kinktober post 😅 I hope this is ok to ask:

Can you write a Hunter x f reader where the prompts "I can't risk losing you again." and "Don't you see that I'm hurting?" Are used?

And can it be fluffy with feelings? It would also be cool if it’s NSFW or steamy but that’s honestly up to you. I love your work sm <3 take care

Thank you so much, anon! Sorry for the delay; I was trying to work out how to get the line prompts in while keeping it fluffy/sweet/steamy. There’s a tiny bit of angst, too.

I hope this is okay! <3

Safe with You

After you were snatched by locals on a recent mission, buried feelings bubble up to the surface, and neither of you can fight them back any longer.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: canon typical violence, hurt and comfort, light angst, feelings and softness, friends to lovers (this trope with this man 🤌), squint for possessiveness, fingering, praise/encouragement.

Rain pelted against the large barracks window, the grey skies a common sight on Kamino. But Hunter’s attention wasn’t on the brewing storm outside. Dark eyes watched as you moved around the room with a slight limp to decant the contents of your pack onto your cot.

Six months you’d been with them. Six months as their civilian handler. You were supposed to report to the Kaminoans on their missions and provide them with whatever they needed to ensure they returned safely each time. The long necks couldn’t have anything happening to their ‘experimental assets’ after all. You weren’t meant to be in the field with them, yet you’d insisted.

And now you were hurt.

Jaw clenching, Hunter tries to forget the panic that had consumed him when you'd sent a distress signal during the middle of the last mission. They’d left you on the Marauder at a safe distance and able to assist if needed, but the locals had found you and weren’t too happy. Your scream of his name over the comms as you’d been dragged out of the ship had turned his blood to ice and would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Before he could stop himself, Hunter was up on his feet and across the room, reaching out for you, selfishly needing to triple-check that you were okay.

You startle as warm hands grasp your wrist, your heart rate spiking as fear simmers in your veins for only a second until you look up at a familiarly handsome face. Try as you might, you were still a little shaken. The locals hadn’t hurt you – your injury was self-inflicted, having smacked your hip on the bunk racks as you’d tried to kick yourself free of their grasp – and that had been their only saving grace when Hunter had stormed their small village with a blaster in one hand and his vibroknife in the other, demanding to know where you were. The relief that had crumpled his face as you’d been yanked out of a nearby building would forever be etched into your memory.

For a moment, you can only stare into his eyes, watching a mired of emotions flicker across his face before his hand shifts to your chin to tilt your head from side to side, double-checking for any marks. “I’m okay, Hunter.” You tell him softly, shifting your weight onto your good leg. “I don’t blame them.” You’re touched by his concern, warmth seeping through your body.

Hunter shakes his head a little, a hard glint in his endless brown eyes. “I do. You’re hurt.”

“Like I said on the way back here, this is self-inflicted.” You repeat, gently taking his wrist to pry his hand from your face. He didn’t need to worry so much – you’d been through a lot worse.

Hunter isn’t backing down that easily, not when something is clawing at his chest and demanding that he be sure you’re okay. “Let me see.”

You pause, blinking a few times at the commanding tone he’d slipped into so effortlessly. It was easy to forget at times that he was in charge. “Hunter…”

“Please.” He remembers his manners, softening his tone a little. He hadn’t meant to come across as harsh or rude, but that strange feeling in his chest wasn’t easing.

“There’s nothing to see. I’ve probably just pulled a muscle. It’ll be fine in a few days.” You point out.

Hunter takes a deep, shaky breath. “You don’t know what it was like hearing you scream out for me.” He pauses, swallowing, the memory replaying on an endless loop in his mind. “Nothing mattered other than getting to you. And I was too slow. You were gone when I got back. But your scent…” His jaw clenched, brows drawn down into a pained frown. One of his hands moved to cup your face, the light drag of his thumb across your cheekbone tugging at your heart. “So sweet but tainted with fear…” He trails off, remembering how relentlessly he’d tracked you down, pushing his senses further than ever before, searching for every little trace of you, desperate to have you back. “Don’t you see that I’m hurting? Please. I need to see that you’re okay.”

You couldn’t deny the worry you saw in Hunter’s eyes, something that rarely surfaced in the stoic soldier, and his words struck a chord with the unspoken connection that had grown between you during your time together. With a small sigh, you nod, giving in to his request.

“Alright. But I promise you, it’s not as bad as you think.” You gently guide him to sit on your cot, lowering yourself next to him and lifting your shirt enough to reveal the purpling bruise on your hip. It wasn’t anything serious, just a painful reminder of the close call.

Hunter’s eyes narrow as he inspects the bruise, his fingers brushing lightly over the discoloured skin. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and for a moment, there’s silence in the room, only the distant rumble of thunder and the patter of rain against the window breaking the stillness.

“I told you, it’s nothing major.” You reassure him, studying the deep furrow in his brow. “I appreciate your concern, but I can handle a few bumps and bruises. It comes with the territory.”

Hunter remains silent, his gaze fixed on the bruise as if trying to will it away. Then, without a word, he rifles through the contents of your pack that you’d dumped out, grabbing a small tube of bacta gel. Wordlessly, he begins to apply it to your bruise, his movements deliberate and tender.

“You shouldn’t have to endure this.” He mutters, almost to himself, his fingers working the gel into your skin. “You weren’t made for this, yet you willingly put yourself in harm’s way. I can’t…I can’t risk losing you again.”

His admission catches you off guard. The weight of his words hangs in the air. The bond between you has evolved, whether you intended it or not.

You place a hand over his, pausing his ministrations. “I’m here because I choose to be. I believe in what you and your brothers are fighting for. I want to help in whatever way I can. I want to protect you. You’re not the only one who would go to great lengths for someone they care about.”

Hunter meets your gaze, his expression softening. At that moment, you realize that the storm brewing outside is nothing compared to the one raging inside Hunter.

You watch as he sets aside the bacta gel, knowing you’re at a crossroads and that whatever you say or do next will tip the scales. His eyes lift to meet yours, and for a moment, the silence lingers until his gaze dips down to your lips for the briefest of seconds.

You move on instinct. Leaning in, your hand cups his cheek, guiding his face towards yours. As your lips meet in a tender kiss, you feel him respond with relief and desperation, as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His hand finds its place on the small of your back, drawing you closer as he deepens the kiss.

Warmth licks through you, and you let out a small noise of surprise as Hunter pulls you carefully onto his lap, shifting you so that you can straddle him. His hand still supports your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck as his tongue presses forward, sliding between your lips to taste you.

Your soft moan is muffled by his mouth, tongue meeting his, body going pliant. Hunter’s lips are firm and confident, every fragment of his adoration for you poured into the kiss.

He wants to drown in your scent, to block out the rest of the galaxy and focus on nothing but you – the sounds you’re making, the racing of your heart, the taste of you that he’ll never get enough of. Cautious not to jostle you, Hunter stands, cradling you to him, smiling against your lips as your arms and legs wrap around him. As you cling to him, he carries you across the room to his bunk, laying you down gently on his sheets.

Sinking into the softness of the mattress, you gaze up at Hunter as he settles above you, careful not to rest his weight on you. Soft lips return to your body, dragging down your throat as his fingers creep under your shirt, dark fabric pushed up as he traces the curves of your body, the rough pads of his fingers against smooth skin. He’s already half-hard just from kissing you, but he studiously ignores it.

You are his priority. You always have been.

He shifts, working his way down your body. Reverent kisses pressed to your exposed belly, lips lingering around your injured hip, still shiny with bacta. Endless brown eyes flit up to meet your gaze, stealing your breath. Reaching down, you cup the inked side of his face, watching as his eyes flutter shut, head tilting into your touch, lips ghosting the palm of your hand in a feather-light kiss as he reassures himself that you're okay. Tears prickle at your eyes, heart aching at the sweetness of the gesture.

Fingers reach the waistband of your pants, already sitting low to not press on your hip, and there's a silent question in his gaze as he looks up at you.

With a small nod, you encourage him, and Hunter slowly pries your pants down further, eyes flitting between yours and the expanse of skin slowly revealed to him. He sees every emotion painted on your beautiful face, like a masterpiece he’s dedicated his entire life to studying.

Your pants hit the floor, Hunter’s lips trailing a path back up your body, soft kisses and gentle nips laved across your thighs and stomach. One arm returns to supporting his weight above you while the other hand smooths across your body, committing every part of you to memory. He could spend an eternity mapping you, losing himself in every nuance of you. Your honeyed scent fills his lungs, overpowering the lingering smells in the barracks.

It’s the sweetest torture you’ve ever experienced, the soft drag of his fingers across your body, the warmth of him so close, those eyes that have drawn you in since the very beginning. He dips down for a delicate kiss, fingers sliding across your thighs. They part without protest, and the deep rumble of approval that flees his lips sends a shiver through you.

Tentatively, he drags two fingers across the front of your damp panties as your kiss breaks. “So needy already, cyar’ika.” He croons, marvelling at the whimper you let loose. “Should probably do something about that, eh?” He adds, catching your clit with his next stroke, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

All you can do is nod, heart racing as you look up at him, trusting he’ll take care of you.

A smile passes over Hunter’s lips, and his fingers dance under the waistband of your panties, sliding down through your slick folds. Drawing lazy circles around your entrance, he goes to press a digit into your warm heat but pulls back at the last moment. Your brows furrow, and the small whine of frustration you let out makes him chuckle. “Patience, mesh’la.” He admonishes playfully, dragging his fingers up and over your clit again, making you gasp.

It’s maddening. But at the same time, oh so delicious. One of your hands grasps at the sheets of his bunk, the other grabbing onto him, anchoring yourself as his fingers stroke across you, cataloguing each spot that makes your hips jolt or pulls a little sound from you.

The delicious torture comes to an end as he finally presses a finger into you, another sliding in beside it. A soft moan escapes you, muffled as Hunter presses his lips to yours, crooking his fingers until he finds the right spot.

Stars erupt in your vision, kiss breaking as you tilt your head back, letting out another moan as pleasure curls through you.

“There it is.” Delight warms Hunter’s voice as he finds the spot, fingers moving, watching enraptured as you react to his touch. Leaning closer, his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. “You should see yourself, cyar’ika. So beautiful.” He whispers, revelling in the way your heart rate spikes at his words, how you squirm and cant your hips to chase the pleasure he’s giving you. “That’s it. Take what you need.” He encourages.

Eyes sliding shut, warmth builds in your belly with every brush of his fingers against that sensitive spot inside you, with every soft word he utters. You grind down against his palm, the added pressure on your clit making your head spin as his fingers slide in and out of you.

Hips rolling, you’re grateful for the bacta gel that’s numbed the earlier ache, and you whine as Hunter’s teeth graze your earlobe. Warm puffs of his breath caress your neck as he dips down, dragging the flat of his tongue from your clavicle back to your ear, making you shiver. “Keep going, sweetheart, you’re doing so well.” He murmurs, a low rasp to the smoky voice you’ve grown to love.

Breath stuttering, you cling to him, desperately rocking against his hand. Your fingers twist the sheets as the pressure builds and builds. “Please...” You whine, eyes opening to find lust-blown brown gazing right back at you.

You ask so sweetly that Hunter can’t do anything but take mercy on you. Ensuring his fingers continue pumping slowly in and out of your tight heat, his thumb makes contact with your clit, and the cry you let out is magnificent.

“Yes, yes, like that…” You babble, eyes falling shut once more as he works you into a frenzy. Lips parting on a silent gasp, you finally tip over the edge. Trembles skitter through your body as you give yourself over to it, letting yourself be swept up in the moment.

Hunter has seen a lot in his few years – sunrises on pretty planets, families reunited, millions of stars shining in distant pockets of the galaxy. Still, all of it pales compared to the sight of you falling apart beneath him.

Working you through the high, his hand only stills once your beautiful eyes open once more and, holding your gaze, he slides his fingers from you, dragging them up to his mouth. The taste of you explodes in his mouth, and he groans, lapping at his fingers as he cleans away the evidence of your release.

Ragged breaths escape you as you come down from the high, watching the way the man you adore savours the taste of you. Exhaustion starts to creep through your body, the adrenaline of the day wearing off and the intensity of your orgasm stealing what little energy you had left. “Your turn…” You mumble, hand sliding down his body towards the thick length straining against his blacks.

Hunter gently captures your wrist, guiding your hand back up before peppering your pulse point with light kisses. “Promise me that I can teach you how to defend yourself better. And that you’ll always carry my spare vibroknife.” He makes a heartfelt request.

You attempt to protest, but seriousness settles over his expression, a stark reminder of how shaken he’d been earlier. “Tomorrow morning, I’m returning the favour. Then I’ll promise you anything.” You finally conceded.

A soft chuckle escapes him. “Deal.” He agrees, sealing the pact with a gentle press of his lips to yours. Carefully, he shifts you, pulling the sheet up, cocooning you in warmth. “There’s my girl.” He coos, watching as your eyes start to droop, lids heavy.

Half-awake, you mumble. “Yours?”

“Mine.” He confirms tenderly, smoothing your hair from your face, the ache in his chest finally easing as you rest safely in his bunk.

#Soarings Ask Box #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #star wars #the bad batch hunter #sergeant hunter #hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter bad batch #fluff #soft smut #friends to lovers

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eboyhitoshi · 1 year

Text

Movie Night // Denki Kaminari

Warnings: Swearing, NSFW, 18+, vaginal fingering, slight exhabitionism, unprotected sex

Summary: Denki can’t help himself, even if his friends are around

Rating: Smut

Pairing: Kaminari x Reader

A/n: Hey y’all so I know I haven’t posted in like literal years, so sorry about that. But I found this in my drafts, and it was done and just kind of sitting there so here it is! I’ve been thinking about picking up writing again and hopefully doing things like this will help me give myself that kick in the butt lol.

Sharing an apartment with Denki was something you didn’t think you’d ever get used to. It didn’t matter how long you’d been together, he’d always surprise you somehow. You figured after high school his shenanigans would calm down but no, some of the things you’ve caught him doing were just insane.

Not to mention his weekly gatherings with all of his friends. They rotate who’s house they go to and lucky you, this week it was at you and Denki’s apartment. Thankfully they’d decided on a movie night, so nothing too chaotic was supposed to be happening. Unfortunately for you, everything is chaotic when it comes to to them.

“We’re not fucking watching that” Bakugou grunted at the movie Mina suggested.

“Dude you’ve shot down everything we’ve suggested, what the hell do you wanna watch?” Sero asked, throwing the tv remote to him. He caught it easily and started going through the movies.

“This one’s fine” Bakugou commented, stopping on some action movie. Everyone was tired of arguing with him so they just agreed.

Denki walked into the room with three large bowls of popcorn and a wide smile on his face. He handed one over to Kirishima, who was sitting on the floor in front of the recliner Bakugou was sitting in, and another to Sero and Mina who had claimed the area in front of the coffee table on the ground. He walked over to the couch, where he had you laying down comfortably under a large blanket. The bowl was placed on the coffee table in front of your face as he slipped behind you. You flipped so you were on your back and Denki was snuggled to your side. You grabbed the large plastic bowl that held your popcorn and placed it on your chest, using it as a table.

Denki propped himself up on an elbow, holding the side of his head in his palm. You turned your head toward the tv and laid against his chest.

The movie Bakugou picked actually turned out being pretty good, so there wasn’t much protest from everyone when he picked out the second movie. You’d eaten most of you and Denki’s popcorn, so the bowl was moved back to the actual table. None had really shifted around all that much, other than the occasional adjustments. You were laid in the same position as earlier, except now you had the leg further from Denki propped up.

Denki’s hand slipped under your sweatshirt to rub your stomach, something he did often. You didn’t pay him any mind as you kept watching the movie. His soft fingertips ran over your skin gently, drawing any patterns that came to his mind. He glanced around the room and saw no one was paying any attention to him, and he smirked to himself.

His hand slid down lower, fingers brushing under the hem of you pajama pants. He watched your face to see if you reacted at all, but you didn’t. He decided to slip his hand down further, over the top of your thigh. This caught your attention, making you turn your head toward him.

“Babe what are you doing?” You whispered quietly so no one else would hear. He gave you an innocent look as his hand ran up and down your thigh, slowly making its way to the inside of your leg.

“Relax baby, let me take care of you” he whispered, kissing your head softly as it was the only thing he could reach.

“All of your friends are here Denki, can we do this later?” You whispered back, sliding up so your head was level with his. He placed his lips on your jaw, slowly working down to your neck. You let out a content breath as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Mm, but I really want to now” he mumbled close to your ear. His voice made a shiver run down your spine, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I don’t wanna get caught” you answered, opening your eyes again to look at your friends. All of their attention was on the tv screen, none of them even sparing the two of you a glance.

“I guess you’ll need to be quiet then” he smirked, fingers dancing on your thigh right beside where you wanted him. He slid his middle finger down between your legs, happy to feel you were wearing a pair of lacy panties. “We’re you hoping for this tonight?” He teased, sliding your panties down as far as they’d go with your pants still on. You chewed your lower lip and shrugged as you looked at him, doe eyed. “Fuck” he muttered to himself before kissing you softly, trying to be as quiet as possible.

His middle finger found its way to your clit, pressing down on it. His fingers slowly circled your sensitive bud, making you roll your hips up into his hand. He stopped his ministrations, looking pointedly at you.

“Ah, ah princess. You can’t move around a lot either, shifty blankets catch shifty eyes” he tutted, slowly rubbing your clit once again. You sighed, trying to let your body relax into his touch while also trying to keep yourself quiet. You did your best to quietly place your bowl of popcorn onto the table in front of you, trying to let yourself relax even further as to not draw attention.

Denki dragged his middle finger down to your dripping hole, dipping it in to the first knuckle. He gathered up some of your juices and dragged them up to your clit. He rubbed your clit with newfound fervor, making your eyes roll back as you gripped onto his forearm. His fingers felt amazing but you knew you wouldn’t be able to cum from the pace he was at.

“Denki please” you whines as quiet as you could into his ear.

“Please what, babe?” He feigned ignorance, just wanting to hear that you wanted him in front of all of your friends.

“Please just finger me already” you pleaded. He smirked at you and nodded, slowly dragging his fingers through your folds. He prodded two fingers at your entrance before slowly sliding them in. You screwed your eyes shut and concentrated on trying to stay quiet.

His two fingers languidly thrust in and out of your cunt, curling with every thrust. His fingertips brushed the sponges area inside of you every time, making it very difficult to suppress your sounds. Denki placed latched his lips to yours in a searing kiss to muffle the whine you let out.

“Could you guys not make out right now?” Kiri asked, making both of your toward him. Denki smirked, thrusting his fingers faster now as you looked his friend in the eyes.

“Why? You jealous bro?” He asked, making Kirishima roll his eyes.

“No but I came to watch movies, not you two making out” he retorted, turning back to the screen. Your face flushed as red as the boy’s hair at the close call. You turned to hide your face in the crook of Denki’s neck as he scissored his fingers inside of you.

“Good girl” he placed a kiss on the side of your head as he carefully curled his fingers into your g spot. “Watch the movie baby” he mumbled, placing his thumb on your clit. You obeyed him, turning your head to face the tv. With the stretch of his fingers inside of you and the feeling of his thumb against your clit, it was proving hard to keep quiet and still. When the pads of his fingers brushed that sponges spot again, you couldn’t help the small whimper that left your mouth. Bakugou turned to look over at you confusedly.

“I uh, don’t handle b-blood well” you lied, voice shaky from pleasure. Your lie only made sense because someone was just conveniently shot on the tv screen. He raised a brow at you but didn’t question it as he went back to the film.

“You getting close?” Denki whispered. You nodded quickly, gripping his forearms harder than before. He pulled his fingers out and slammed them back into you. You took the collar of your sweatshirt and bit down on it, muffling the moan that slipped from your lips. He repeated the action over and over until he had your eyes rolling back and hips trying to grind down onto his hand. “What’d I say about moving babygirl?” He asked, stilling his fingers inside of you.

“Please Denki I’m so close” you replied, ignoring his comment as you wiggled your hips around, desperate for any friction you could get. He kept his fingers motionless inside your velvety walls, not moving until you listened to him.

“Do you want all of our friends to me see me knuckle deep in your pretty cunt? You want them to see how naughty you’re being?” He asked, sliding his fingers out of you just to push them back in once again. Your eyes screwed shut as you shook your head. “Then stop moving so much” he went back to his pace before, curling his fingertips up toward your g spot with every thrust. His thumb went back to assaulting your clit, pushing you right to the edge.

You grabbed the back of his head, bringing his lips to yours to muffle your moans as you cane hard around his fingers. He smirked into your kiss, removing his fingers from your core. He pulled the blanket up all the way to your shoulders, dipping his face under it to lick his fingers clean.

“I helped you out a bit, you think you can help me?” He asked, eyes ficking down to the bulge in his pants that was pressed against your leg. You nodded shyly, making sure no one was paying attention. “Thanks babe, flip over to face the tv. When you do, slide your pants down” he commented. You did as he said, lifting your hips enough to wiggle down your pants and disguising it as you turned onto your side. Denki readjusted begins you, his own pajama bottoms down by his knees. He gave himself a few tugs before sliding his tip along your folds.

Slowly he pushed himself inside of you, placing his hand on your hip as he felt your velvety walls squeezing around him. He let out a soft sigh when he bottomed out. You shut your eyes, sucking in a silent breath.

“Shit babe, you’re so fucking tight” he whispered, pulling out slightly and thrusting back in. He started moving at a slow pace, rubbing circles on your clit as he did so.

His thrusts were shallow due to lack of space, but the nice slight curve in his cock was working wonders anyway, and paired with the tight circles he was making on your clit, you swear your vision was going white. The thrill of it all had you seeing stars, especially when Denki sent a small shock from his fingers down onto you. It took literally everything you had to not yelp out and jolt your whole body. At this point you’d already gotten close to finishing again, and it was just a matter of time before Denki had had his fill. But of course all good things have to come to an end don’t they.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Bakugou’s harsh voice broke you from your trance and made you snap back into what was happening.

“Dude what’s wrong?” Sero asked, brows furrowed. Bakugou shot a pointed look up at the couch where you and Denki were.

“Yo wait are guys fucking right now?” Kirishima piped up, a dumb grin on his face because you guys got caught, and this was hilarious to him.

Your face has never felt hotter. You were caught in the middle of a room with all of your boyfriend’s best friends, with him balls deep inside of you, and the cherry on top was Denki hadn’t stopped moving at all. And he was back there face bright red, but a dumb smile on his face too.

“What? Oh come on guys look at her, I couldn’t help it”

#mha x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #bnha kaminari #denki kaminari imagine #kaminari x y/n #kaminari x reader #denki kaminari x reader #bakusquad #kaminari #my hero academia kaminari #kaminaridenki #kaminari smut

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svnflower-writes · 2 months

Text

i could never give you peace

description: James reached his hand out, gently cupping Regulus’ cheek and moving some hair out of his eyes. “Hey, little star.” Regulus leaned slightly into the touch, but didn’t speak. “Let’s get you to your room, yeah?”

in which James comforts Regulus after a particularly bad fight with his parents.

relationship: bodyguard!james potter x regulus black

warnings: mentions of child abuse, secret/forbidden relationship, hurt/comfort, angst, james may be slightly out of character but idk maybe he's just sad 😭

requested: yes!! @allyeardepression requested this about 4 months ago and i am SO sorry for taking so long writer's block has been kicking my ass omg i started writing as soon as you requested it but it sat there unfinished for far too long. anyway i hope you like it!!!

note: uh ok hi. this is the first thing i've posted in MONTHS and i wrote most of it in class so it's not great but fuck it i had to post something. also... sorry. the first thing i write in five months and it's heartwrenching angst, which is very typical of me. also based off a taylor swift song which is also very typical of me

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54453148

marauders taglist: (lmk if you want to be added or removed) @lovefolder @gu1lty-as-sin @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies @a-beautiful-fool @optimizedchaos @qwerty-keysmash @lost-in-reveriie @tulips-best @nqds

James had to pretend that it didn’t affect him, seeing Orion and Walburga treat their children like they did. After all, he was there to work for all of them. But Merlin, he felt bad. The looks that flashed across the younger brother’s face were subtle enough that anyone else would have missed it, but James didn’t miss any small details—especially when they were to do with the little star.

This was one of these moments, James was positioned outside the closed door as he heard the screaming match going on directly behind him. He heard snippets of conversation, words such as ‘useless’ and ‘pathetic’ making their way to his ears and crushing a little bit of his heart. He supposed he was lucky not to be in the room while it was happening, but all he wanted was to rush in and protect Regulus from the harsh words and actions of his parents.

James allowed his head to rest against the wall, exhaling slowly as his eyes trailed over the dark tiles on the ceilings. The decor on the house was not to James’ personal taste, a combination of dark brown, green, cream, and black. He glanced down to the floor, the extravagant geometric tiles making him feel claustrophobic and sick to the stomach. Harsh black wallpaper covered the wall, the dull gold picture frames making a pathetic attempt to soften the unharmonious glare. The paintings in the frames were judging him, the upturned noses and narrowed eyes made that obvious enough.

James and Regulus had been quick to subtly remove the paintings in the hallway outside Reg’s room—Orion and Walburga didn’t tend to go up there, so no one noticed. Sirius had given them a knowing smirk when he’d caught them sneaking down a hall with a covered portrait of one of Regulus’ great aunts, but he had said nothing. Sirius held an undeniable feeling of respect for James, he could see how much he cared for his little brother, and for that he was eternally grateful.

A sharp, high pitched shout broke James out of his trance, and he glanced at the door with a grimace.

Walburga Black was his least favourite person in the whole world. He couldn’t clearly hear what followed the shout, but he had a few ideas of what it could be. He had been in the room when this had happened a few times before, and Sirius had always seemed indifferent to his parents actions—James knew he wasn’t, of course.

It was all just an act in the Black family, everyone simply pretending to be okay and pushing their feelings to the back of their minds. Regulus was less numb to the pain, and while Sirius just sat there sprawled out on the couch, ignoring his parents, Regulus always looked unnaturally stiff. He was trying to copy Sirius, that much was obvious. But it was clear that the words got to Regulus, the way his brows furrowed and he blinked quickly or looked away with fiddling hands.

Then again, maybe there was a reason that James noticed these things—not that he could take much notice of whatever underlying feelings there were anyway, since Regulus might as well be his employer. He knew Regulus felt the same, of course. There were signs, there had been since a mere two months after James started the job. Fleeting glances, brief touching of fingers as James passed him something to eat, waiting for him in the halls— the list could go on and on.

Regulus knew that James liked him too, as James wasn’t exactly subtle. He tended to forget himself when they were around others, such as Sirius or Pandora—which made for a lot of teasing from the two. Barty and Evan couldn’t say much, as they were in much the same situation.

So the two had kept up the secret whispers and hidden gazes, neither boy making any more to further the relationship, even behind closed doors. There was only so much they could get away with, and they were not embarrassed to admit that they were terrified. They were terrified of the nature of their world, the judgements and the prejudice that came with merely trying to exist. They would prefer to be open with each other about their relationship, but they would take whatever they could get at this point.

The door next to him flew open and Walburga stormed out, not even sparing James the slightest glance as she walked past him. Orion followed close behind, the harsh glare painting his face giving James an idea of the severity of the fight. After the brother’s exchanged short hushed whispers, Sirius walked through the door, offering James a small, polite smile. He walked past and James stopped him quietly. Sirius’ eyes narrowed slightly.

“Is there anything I can do?” At James’ words, Sirius’ expression softened.

“Talk to him. I’ve done as much as I can, but I think we both know that you’re better at this stuff.” Sirius pulled James into a quick hug, “and thank you. It means a lot that you try, seriously. It’s not exactly part of your job description.” Sirius being Sirius, he laughed, but it was obvious that he wasn’t actually amused. James had known Sirius for three years, and if there was one thing he had learnt about him, it was his use of humour as a coping mechanism.

“You go sneak out to Remus, I’ll take care of him.”

Sirius grinned slightly, reaching out to ruffle James’ hair, “aw, you know me too well.”

James groaned at his now messy hair—as if his hair wasn’t always a mess—pushing Sirius away and waving him towards the door, “go find your lover, Pads.”

Sirius was out the door without another word.

James glanced down the hallway to ensure it was empty and walked into the room the fight had just taken place in. Regulus was sitting on the ground and had his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and head leaning against the cushion of the couch. He didn’t look up when James entered, nor when the older boy crouched down in front of him. His face wasn’t betraying what emotions he was feeling, but James knew.

James always knew.

James reached his hand out, gently cupping Regulus’ cheek and moving some hair out of his eyes. “Hey, little star.” Regulus leaned slightly into the touch, but didn’t speak. “Let’s get you to your room, yeah?”

Regulus nodded, mumbling something incoherent under his breath before looking up. “Good idea.” he took James’ outstretched hand to help him up off the ground. Even well after he had stood up, he kept his hand in James’, determined not to let go.

Regulus clearly had something he wanted to say, but his brain was not connected to the rest of his body, still in autopilot from the fight. His eyes were empty and his hands were clasped together in front of him as James gently rested his palm on his lower back to guide him up the stairs. Regulus subtly leaned into the touch, his heartbeat slowly calming and the goosebumps littering his skin beginning to fade.

Merely being near James brought him an unparalleled sense of peace.

James let his hand rub up and down his lower back comfortingly, and for a brief second he considered taking Regulus’ hand in his own but he decided against it. His brain was plagued with guilt, wishing he could rescue Regulus from the cruel reality that was his family. But no matter what James wanted, it wasn’t that simple. It never was.

James could never give Regulus peace.

Regulus stopped walking and James looked up from where his gaze had been fixed on the floor in confusion. He soon noticed that they were in fact directly outside the door to Regulus’ room. Regulus seemed to take notice of the fact that James was lost in his head and he squeezed his hand reassuringly.

After checking if the hallway was clear, James quickly opened the door. He wasn’t really supposed to enter any of the private rooms in the house, but Regulus had insisted many times that it was alright. No matter how safe Regulus felt around him, he couldn’t risk Orion and Walburga spotting him. He really was Regulus’ only source of comfort.

Regulus sat down on his bed with a blank expression on his face. James sat down next to him and pulled a bottle of water out of his bag. He handed it to Regulus with no words spoken, because the pair didn’t need words. This routine was very familiar to the two of them now, it was almost a second nature.

James quickly checked for any injuries—he hadn’t heard anything to make him suspect that there could’ve been a physical nature to the fight, but he had seen enough bruises on the Black siblings to make double checking an automatic part of the procedure. There was one on the side of Regulus’ cheek, and James pulled out the healing ointment from his bag and carefully put a little bit on the bruise.

James pushed the guilt at being unable to protect Regulus from his parents aside, knowing that this was not about him.

Once Regulus had finished, he slowly leaned into James’ side, letting out a sigh as he closed his eyes. The crook of James’ neck was like a puzzle piece that was made perfectly for Regulus’ head, and as the two slowly relaxed into each other's presence, James let his hands drift up to Regulus’ hair. His fingers slowly entangled themselves into the dark curls as he comfortingly stroked Regulus’ forehead.

It was clear to James that the support Regulus needed right now was not someone to tend to his wounds, but someone to hold him. So hold him he did. James’ right hand moved slowly up and down the small of Regulus’ back soothingly, showing an undeniable caution not to startle the younger boy with any quick movements.

He cared more about the little star than was possible to admit, and he prioritised his safety over everything else. The two lay in each other’s arms for what felt like (and probably was) hours. Suddenly, Regulus shifted in his arms, mumbling something under his breath.

James tilted his head like a confused puppy, gesturing for Regulus to repeat himself. Regulus cleared his throat and glanced away.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For…” Regulus trailed off, and James was about to let it go—he wasn’t going to push for him to open up more than he was willing to do.

“...for keeping me safe.”

The dark haired boy’s voice was merely a whisper, head buried into James’ shoulder as he refused to meet his eyes. He was embarrassed, James realised. He didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent.

James thought that the two were about to fall back into their silence, when Regulus spoke. “It’s peaceful.”

Giving him an inquisitive look, James turned to face Regulus.

“Being here with you. You’re peaceful.”

James stiffened slightly before slowly nodding, “yeah, I know what you mean. You’re peaceful too, little star.”

You deserve more peace than I can give you.

Regulus smiled up at him, entwining their fingers reassuringly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more at peace than I am when I lie here with you.”

Merlin, it’s like he can hear my thoughts.

Finally, James responded. “You mean more to me than anyone else ever has, little star.”

There was a raw honesty in his tone. He may not love their situation, but he loved the boy in front of him with his whole heart.

No matter where this road was leading, James knew it was where he wanted to go. Whatever the roadworks along the way, he was in this for good.

#luc posts #luc writes #jegulus #james x regulus #james potter #regulus black #i'm so sorry this took so long #also its unneceseraly sad so uh #angst #hurt/comfort #marauders #sirius black #wolfstar mention #james potter x regulus black #marauders era #harry potter marauders #harry potter

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moni-logues · 8 months

Text

Kintsugi 7

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 6.1k

Content: alcohol consumption, drunkenness, Yoongi POV!, also Yoongi is bi kthx

A/N: would you believe me if I said they actually have some fun in this chapter? LMAOOOO huge thanks to @here2bbtstrash for Yoongi's costume idea and @quarter-life-crisis2 for reading the first half of this when I needed validation but this has not been actually beta'd (so DO feel free to point out all my typos!)

Chapter Six | Masterlist | Chapter Eight

Chapter Seven – You! Me! Dancing!

“Pleeeeaasasseeeeeeee,” you asked, holding your ‘please’ as long as you could, stretching your arms over the counter, clasping your hands together in front of him, doing your best at supplication. “Pretty, pretty please with a hundred cherries on top? And sprinkles and whipped cream and chocolate saaauuuuuuuuce?”

“No.”

“Even if I’ll love you the most out of everyone I know? You’ll be my most favouritest, bestest, bestest friend in the whole world?”

“No.”

“Yoongiiiiiiii,” you whined, your head dropping between your arms. “Please do this for me? You are the best, sweetest, funniest, coolest, nicest, most handsome, beautiful person in the whole world and I will love you forever and ever and ever and ever-”

Yoongi’s mouth was tight as he tried to contain his grin and his eyes were narrowed. He loved to tease you, this you knew, and he hated it when you said nice things to him, which you also knew. You hadn’t thought it would take this much arm-twisting, but you were fully prepared to bring out the big guns if necessary.

“No.”

You clamped your hands around his wrists and leant in closer to him, pouting with your best puppy-dog eyes and wobbly bottom lip.

“Pwease? Pwease, Yoongi, won’t you come to the party with me?” It was the best, most annoying baby voice you could manage and one he absolutely could not stand. If this didn’t break him, you might actually have had to go to the party by yourself after all.

Yoongi took in a deep breath and left it out in a huff.

“Fine.”

You threw your hands up in the air and then he interrupted your cheers.

“But I’m not wearing a fucking costume.”

You would argue with him about that later, but you let yourself revel in the victory for that night.

It was as Taehyung had said: it was easier this time. It was easier now that you had committed to avoiding destructive coping mechanisms and decided to be honest with your therapist (and yourself). It was easier because you had finally accepted what your therapist had you explain months ago: that it wasn’t about Sungbin. He could have been anyone. It wasn’t about all those other men. It was about the black hole in your heart that wanted to suck up every second of someone’s attention and would still be left feeling empty. It was about your insatiable need to feel loved, whilst you continued to tell yourself you were unlovable. It was so not about Sungbin that you wanted to reach out and apologise to him (nobody thought this was a good idea, including you, but you wanted to). That would have been about you, too, not him. You were working on that. Properly this time. Honestly. Committedly. And it was having a strange effect on you.

You supposed that it was ‘working’. This is what it meant to get better, to make progress, to ‘heal’ (even though that word made you sick). You felt strong. Some days you felt spiteful and bitter and hateful and irritable, but almost none of that was turned inwards towards yourself and you felt a little empowered by it, in a way you couldn’t quite make sense of. Yes, you hated everything on those days, and yes, you wanted to scream and shout and kick things, but it was defiant, it was defensive, it was a way of continuing to establish your existence on the earth. You would not be erased. All this time, you had wanted to kill yourself and hadn’t quite managed it, so you sure as shit weren’t going to let little things like Life and Existence and Capitalism take you down.

You had found some fire. That little, tiny spark inside you, that the most treasured people in your life kept going, had found some tinder. It had grown. It was keeping you warm even as the days got shorter and the nights got colder. All that independence and self-sufficiency that you had so bitterly grasped at after the break-up with San was in your hands now. Suddenly, you felt almost like a capable adult. You could cook things—real things! Meals! With vegetables and home-made sauces!—you could take care of yourself. You could cope. You could, to your surprise, exist on your own.

“Work it-”

“-Better-”

“Make it-”

“-Faster-”

“-...Do it-”

“-Stronger-”

“-...Makes us...-?”

“-Better-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “What?”

Taehyung was looking at you as if you were insane and you had no idea why.

“Those are... not the right words.”

“What?”

“You were singing that all wrong.”

“No, I wasn’t! It doesn’t have correct words! They go all in different orders throughout the song!”

“No, they don’t!”

“Yes, they do!”

Taehyung pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose and took a dramatic sigh before turning to you, his hands on the arms of your chair.

“My precious, sweet, little bean, how did I not know until now that you are this stupid?”

“HEY!”

You pushed him away as hard as you could and his chair slid back, knocking with more than just a little force into the office wall behind. Knocking into it hard enough to disturb the meeting that was taking place inside it. You both grimaced and waved apologies and leant forward to try to hide your giggles behind the desk partitions.

“You are a fucking idiot!” Taehyung hissed at you.

“Am not!”

“Look up the song and then try tell me it doesn’t have correct words.”

“No! I won’t!”

“Because you don’t want to admit that you are wrong.”

“Have I told you today that I hate you?”

“Not yet; it’s only twenty-past ten.”

“Well, I hate you.”

“I love you, too, darling.”

The song had been in honour of your feeling, as the song goes, harder, better, faster, stronger – or things vaguely approaching that. You were feeling better and stronger but maybe not faster, and the aim was to make things softer rather than harder, but the sentiment was there.

Or it had been until Taehyung had taken the opportunity to call you an idiot, but it wouldn’t dampen your spirit. You were doing the hard work and doing it every day. That meant something. It meant that he could call you an idiot and you could laugh and not a single part of you would take it personally—a thing that might not have been true a couple of months ago.

“Have you decided on your costume, by the way? You haven’t got long to sort it.”

“Yeah,” you answered without enthusiasm. “Yoongi has point-blank refused to do a couples costume with me—I don’t even think he’s going to dress up at all—so I'm going to have to do something on my own. Can’t believe you’ve both abandoned me in my hour of need.”

“Your hour of need is a halloween party?”

“YES! My greatest hour of need is your halloween party where you’ve rejected me in favour of your stupid boyfriend and Yoongi has rejected me in favour of being a spoilsport! I cannot believe you would both treat me so cruelly.”

“Take that up with Yoongi and Hyunjin. Not my problem.”

“‘Not my problem’,” you scoffed. “It’s your fucking party!”

“And I’ll uninvite you from it if you don’t stop being a git.”

Not satisfied with having already annoyed everyone else in your office, you tipped your head back and did your shockingly accurate impression of a baby crying.

You heard Yoongi approaching down the corridor while you were preening in the mirror. You might have had to come up with, design, find clothes and accessories for this costume all on your own, but you didn’t think you had done such a bad job after all. Your dress fit you well, draping over your softest parts, pulled in at the waist, not really revealing but hinting. You had placed your hair just so and done the lightest make-up you could manage, all shimmer and highlight. You looked in the mirror and you thought you looked good. That felt nice.

You turned around when you heard the beep of the keypad and could not contain your surprise.

“He- oh! What?!”

You moved to the doorway, looking at Yoongi with dismay.

“What?”

“What are you wearing?"

“Clothes?”

It was all black. Black on black on black. No headpiece, no props, no discernible character he might be playing.

“I was holding out hope that you’d show up here in a proper costume but this is even worse!” You stomped your foot and fixed him with a glare. “You’re going to hide in a corner and not talk to anyone all night, aren’t you?”

Yoongi grinned slowly at you, sly and triumphant and cheeky.

“What makes you think this isn’t a costume?”

That made you balk.

“How is that a costume? I don’t know what you are!”

“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

You stomped your foot again, biting back the grin threatening your face. Although you had done your damnedest to get him to agree to come, there was a niggling worry in the back of your brain that had been saying he wouldn’t have fun, that he wouldn’t enjoy it. He wasn’t a party guy, wasn’t a ‘show up to someone’s party where you know precisely one (1) person and have a good time anyway’ guy. He was shyer than he’d have liked people to know; he didn’t like loud parties with lots of people where there was no quiet place for him to escape to. You knew, when you were asking him to come, that you were asking him to do something he wouldn’t want to do. You knew, when you were asking him, that he would probably say yes anyway, because it was you. And you wanted him to come; you wanted him to be part of your world and your world included Taehyung and his halloween party. Yes, he and Taehyung had met before, but that was accidental. You were deliberately now drawing together the strings of your life. This was important to you.

And here was Yoongi, grinning and teasing you about not wearing a costume and reminding you that he was a grown man who could make his own decisions and, tonight, he had decided to come to Taehyung’s halloween party with you and put his best foot forward. Even if maybe he really wasn’t wearing a costume.

You were planning to arrive fashionably late, as you had promised Taehyung you would, as part of your protest against his decision to couple costume with Hyunjin instead of you. Ordinarily, you showed up early, helped prepare, got ready with Taehyung, let him dress you and make you over how he liked. He treated you like a doll and that is the reason you enjoyed it so much. Not this time, though.

As you walked from your apartment to Taehyung’s with Yoongi in tow, it hit you just how many things were different this year. No San, for a start. Yoongi. Hyunjin. It didn’t scare you. It didn’t hurt you.

You grabbed Yoongi’s hand and swung it high between the two of you, skipping a little on your way. Yoongi merely smiled.

The first person you saw when you entered was Taehyung’s travelling roommate. He was hardly ever home which meant you hardly ever saw him; the last time you had spent time together was pre-break-up. Because he was away so much, you couldn’t call yourselves ‘close’, but he was always a delight and always nice to you and there was something so easy about his company; the light jolt you felt at seeing him again was unexpected, but welcome.

His being away so often made him the perfect person for Yoongi to meet. There were his friends here, too, but he was slightly on the periphery, not involved in the day-to-day of their lives while he was away; he could ease Yoongi into the circle. Of course, you were supposed to be doing that, too, but without Taehyung literally by your side, you didn’t feel quite so confident. They were all his friends, not yours. Not really.

“Taemin!” you cried, making a beeline straight for him. “What the fuck are you?!”

Taemin laughed, a little embarrassed, and hugged you hello. He gave you a spin—his white, fluffy tail lashing out behind him—and daintily pawed over one of his white ears.

“I’m Daengie! Can’t you tell?!”

He span again and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Only you would dress up as your own fucking cat.”

“Hey! We’re cute!”

He had a point.

“Who’s this?” he asked, gesturing to Yoongi, politely.

“Oh! Yoongi, this is Taehyung’s roommate, Taemin. Taemin, this is Yoongi.”

“Boyfriend?” Taemin asked, shaking Yoongi’s hand but looking at you.

“No!”

“No-”

You spoke over each other in your joint panic to answer, to set the record straight. You were off boyfriends and it felt important for as many people to know that as possible. It was A Thing you were doing now. No boyfriends. Spread the word.

“So, you’re single?” Taemin asked, looking this time at Yoongi.

“Yes.”

Taemin smiled, his eyes disappeared, and he gave an approving hum, quickly flicking his eyes over Yoongi.

“And what are you dressed as, Yoongi?”

You did not miss the glint in Taemin’s eyes.

“Ah, you’ll find out later,” was Yoongi’s answer and he looked quickly over to you. You grinned.

“A reveal?” Taemin fake-gasped. “I’m intrigued! But you must not, under any circumstances, steal Taehyung’s thunder, ok? It would destroy him.”

“Steal his thunder...?”

“Yeah,” you butted in. “Every year, we-… Every year, he and whoever he’s dressing up with make a grand entrance. It’ll be fun to watch this time, instead of doing it.”

“Yes, and it’s very important to Taehyung that he is the star of the show.”

Yoongi nodded. “I have no intention of being the star of any show or stealing any thunder. I promise.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll get on fine.”

“Anyway,” you began pointedly, picking up the hem of your skirt between your fingers and twirling slightly. “Don’t you want to say anything about my costume?”

“Of course!” Taemin cried. “You look even more beautiful than the real Aphrodite herself.”

“What?! I’m not Aphrodite!”

Taemin looked to Yoongi for support; Yoongi shrugged.

“But you look so beautiful! Who else could you be?”

“I’m Cupid, you morons!”

You raised your bow and home-made arrow with the heart-shaped tip and you hit them both with it.

“Look at me! Obviously, I’m Cupid. I can’t be Aphrodite because everyone falls in love with her automatically. I am Cupid, so I can go around and shoot people with my arrow and make them fall in love with me!”

Yoongi and Taemin exchanged a look, then both looked at you, and back at each other.

“You know that’s not how Cupid works,” Yoongi stated.

“What do you mean?”

“Cupid doesn’t make people fall in love with him; he shoots two people and makes them fall in love with each other,” Taemin explained.

The realisation dawned on you. Yes, that is how Cupid worked. You knew that. You definitely already knew that. Yet, somehow, between the moment the costume first occurred to you and this very second, that knowledge did absolutely nothing to make its presence known to you.

You nodded. You tucked your lips into your mouth and breathed out hard.

“Cool,” you said, nodding some more. “Cool cool cool.” Then you wailed. “I can’t believe I got my own costume wrong!”

You threw your bow to the ground and Yoongi and Taemin laughed.

“Ok, let me get some drinks so you can drown your sorrows.” Taemin wandered off into the kitchen.

You knocked your forehead onto Yoongi’s shoulder and whined some more.

“Am I stupid?” you asked.

You felt him chuckle and a hand came up to pat your back.

“Yeah... But it’s ok; Aphrodite is Greek and Cupid is Roman, so Taemin was also kind of wrong. Should’ve called you Venus.”

You lifted your head and looked at him.

“What?” he asked when you still hadn’t said anything seconds later.

“Why do you know so many things?”

His bashfulness stifled another chuckle and he shrugged.

You whined for the last time and pouted until Yoongi squished your face between his fingers. Then you took the cup Taemin had returned with and took a long gulp. It didn’t really matter. A costume was a costume. You could pretend to be Aphrodite or Venus or some other vaguely classical character—no one would know or care, except you. You couldn’t let it ruin your evening. Especially not this one, the one you’d dragged Yoongi to, the one you had built up expectations for in your head for weeks now. It was going to go right. Come hell or high water, it would be fun.

“How long do we have to wait for the big entrance?” Yoongi asked.

You had already opened your mouth to answer but Taemin got there first, smirking just a little and looking unfathomably cute as he did it.

“Just long enough for us to get to know each other a little better!”

Then he hooked his arm through Yoongi’s and tapped his cup against his. Yoongi looked a little surprised but you didn’t attempt to rescue or reassure. Taemin was both utterly charming and completely harmless.

He led most of the conversation, asking Yoongi about himself, reciprocating with his own answers; you did your best not to speak for both of them at once. You distracted yourself looking at everyone else: their costumes, the successes or failures therein, looking for people you most recognised, peering at those you didn’t. It struck you, again, that this year was different. You had literally never done this without Taehyung before. You looked at the two men next to you and realised maybe you did have other people; you weren’t alone after all. You would have to remember to tell Taehyung.

Then the music cut and a spotlight (where did Taehyung get a spotlight from?) lit up the central living space, which had been cleared of all furniture. Out of rising dry ice (where had he got that?), Taehyung and Hyunjin appeared.

A pencil moustache, slicked down hair, perfectly tailored trousers. Long, sleek black hair, a dress, tight, and sparkling, the fairest skin and reddest lips.

“Wow,” you breathed, transfixed as they took to their spots and the music started.

You were surprised by how gracefully Taehyung moved. You were not surprised by Hyunjin’s grace because he seemed to be one of those people that was just good at everything, but they moved together, as one; they acted the parts with conviction. When Hyunjin, as Morticia, stood before your little trio and reached out to ever so lightly caress Yoongi’s cheek, you noticed him gulp and you could’ve sworn that you saw, even in the shadows against the spotlight, the tips of his ears redden. When Taehyung pulled Hyunjin back, Yoongi emptied his cup.

“Holy shit,” you exhaled when they had finished and the applause had ended. “Well, no wonder he didn’t want me to do the couple costume with this year; there’s no way I could have done that.”

“I was just about to ask,” Yoongi replied. “I didn’t know you were a dancer.”

“I am so not.”

“Well, I am and I can’t believe he didn’t ask me,” Taemin interjected. “It is my job!”

“Yeah, but you’re not Teddy’s boyfriend.”

“Alas.”

“So, that’s uh, Hyunjin?” Yoongi queried.

“That’s Hyunjin. Most beautiful man in the world probably.”

“Definitely.”

Yoongi’s gaze still looked a little far-off and you could see his eyes sweep the room for Hyunjin. Taemin sighed beside him, also looking into the crowd for Morticia.

“Can’t believe we’re all secretly in love with Teddy’s boyfriend. What a tragic situation we’re all in.”

“None more than you,” Yoongi said. “Taehyung would never let you third.”

“Hey!”

“He’s gay, right? Taemin and I at least stand a chance.”

Taemin cackled beside Yoongi and held his hand up for a high-five which Yoongi freely gave him.

“My life is pathetic,” you groaned, looking up to the ceiling. You went to walk away and then did a quick about-turn. “Not that I want to be involved in any kind of threesome involving Teddy, let’s be clear. I absolutely do not, in any way, want to do anything even remotely sexual with him. I would rather die, ok? Hyunjin? Sure, no one’s kicking him out of bed, but this is a hall pass situation only. You guys do what you want with the both of them, but I am out if it’s a threesome.”

You were very pleasantly tipsy. Maybe a little more than tipsy. It was getting hot in the apartment and you snuck on to the balcony in hopes of some cooling air. You were relieved to find it empty and you leant heavily over the railing, looking at the street below.

You’d been there no more than a few seconds when you heard the door slide open.

“Found you.”

Yoongi leant on the railing next to you.

“Are you having fun?”

Yoongi grinned.

“Taemin asked if I wanted to see his cats.”

You had made the mistake of taking a sip of your drink, which you promptly inhaled and choked back up. Yoongi laughed and gave you a hard slap on the back. You replied when soju had stopped coming out of your nose.

“When you say ‘see his cats’, do you mean actually see his cats or...?”

Yoongi laughed again.

“Actually see his cats.”

You linked your arm with his and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Of course. I had forgotten you’re a catboy.”

“Stop!” Yoongi groaned, unable to stop himself laughing. “Don’t do that.”

“You’re my little catboy!”

“Noooo! I only have a cat. I like cats. I’m not a catboy.”

“Whatever you say, sugar. For the record, though, I reckon Taemin would ask you to see his cats... If you wanted.”

He shook his head.

“No, thank you.”

“You sure? Have you seen him dance? I reckon he’d be good-good, y’know?”

He shook his head again.

“I would not, first thing upon arriving at your friend’s party, fuck his roommate. Besides, the whole one-night stand thing...”

“Yeah, it kind of sucks. It’s not for me.”

“But hey, you have it a really good try.”

You snorted and took another sip of your drink.

“That I did. And never again. And, y’know, not one of those pricks ever called.” You were joking now, because you knew that you didn’t really want them to call, but it had hurt at the time. You turned around, your back to the street and Yoongi smiled at you.

“Idiots.”

“Definitely. You know who else is an idiot?” you asked, but Yoongi returned no answer, save for a raised brow. “Your fucking ex-girlfriend.”

He rolled his eyes.

“She was worse than an idiot. Your ex was an idiot, though.”

You shrugged.

“Eh, I don’t know; I don’t blame him.”

“Then you are the idiot. Maybe that’s why they all didn’t call.”

“I would have called me. I’m great, don’t you know?”

“I do know. I would call you.”

“Yeah; I’d call you! Because we’re great. We’re great!”

Yoongi laughed and held his cup to you; you bumped your own against it. Then you tipped them both back and drained them.

“For the record, just so you know,” you began, holding a finger up and pointing vaguely at him, “Teddy would not mind at all if you fucked Taemin.”

Yoongi only shook his head again.

“Smart. Save yourself for Teddy and Hyunjin.”

It was Yoongi’s turn to choke on his drink.

“I’m not sure trying to fuck your best friend and his boyfriend would do much to ingratiate me with them.”

“Oh, you don't know Teddy well enough.” You laughed. “The more sex, the better, as far as Teddy’s concerned, regardless of who's having it!”

“Well, in that case, I’ve got somewhere to be—you cool out here on your own?”

Yoongi turned and started to move off, back into the party. You grabbed his arm and tugged him backwards.

“No, I’m not! Don’t leave me!”

He tripped over his own foot as he stepped back to the railing and it was only then that you noticed the bright flush of his cheeks, the black of his pupils blown wide against his irises, the easiest of easy grins on his face.

“Hey, mister, you’re drunk!”

As if to prove a point, he took a long, performative gulp from his (empty) cup and dropped it to the floor with a bow.

“It’s a party; isn’t that what I’m supposed to be?”

“You’re even drunker than I am!”

“I do know how to have fun, y’know.”

You thought he was teasing, not really wounded, but there was a slight dim in the glint of his eyes and he turned to look out over the street below so you hurried to overcorrect.

“I know! We have fun! Obviously I know you’re fun! I just... I guess I was just worried you wouldn’t have fun. That you only came for me.”

“Of course I only came for you. Doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying myself. I’ve been to parties before. I do have other friends.”

“Yeah, I keep forgetting that most people have more than two friends. I’m glad you came.”

Before it could descend into true squabbling nonsense, the door slid again and Taehyung leant out.

“Stop hiding out here, fuckers; outside is for the smokers. Come in and have some fun!”

He didn’t even wait for you to respond before turning back into the apartmet, leaving the door open.

“Shall we?” you asked, gesturing widely.

“Let’s shall!”

You were hot. And drunk. And dancing. Just like everybody else in this humid, dark room. Yoongi included. You watched him, scream-singing with Taemin, jumping as his cup sloshed his drink onto floor—your Yoongi. He had come to be associated, for you, with both comfort and sadness. It was serious, somehow, this friendship, even when you were laughing; there was something deep and dark and it held you close together. You were mirrors. All your sadness, all your darkness, all your deepest parts reflecting back at each other. But where was all that darkness now? Now, it was all bright, all moving, sparkling, shining parts. Who could possibly look at him and think he could be as sad as you knew he sometimes was? As you sometimes were.

Sometimes used to be. Because you were getting better now. You were. A lump formed in your throat as you tried to screech a chorus and it muted you. It almost brought a tear to your eye: this happiness, this revelry, this community, this party, this friendship, this healing. This. You had to take a strong shot of something vile-tasting to make it go away.

You continued to shout your voice hoarse and drink too much and stumble through your dance moves. You accidentally kissed Taemin on the mouth—which surprised you more than it did him—and then spent five minutes insisting you didn’t want to sleep with him before realising he was winding you up. You danced with Taehyung; you cornered Hyunjin and asked him about his skincare routine until he needed to be rescued. You fished Daengie out of hiding in Taemin’s bedroom and made the two of them do a mother-daughter photoshoot. You had more fun than you had had for a while.

You watched Yoongi have fun, too. You watched him let Taemin lead him on the dancefloor; you watched him play (and lose) a drinking game against someone whose name you had forgotten. You sang directly into each other’s faces and drank from each other’s cups just because. You felt full: of fun, of friendship, of altogether way too many marshmallow ghosts.

People had left, the lights had been switched back on; the party had ended. You were trying to scoop Yoongi into a standing position, grumbling to yourself about why it always had to be you propping up the drunk guy.

“I ’n go ‘ome,” Yoongi slurred with one arm slung around your shoulder, the other hand close to the ground as he failed to find his feet. “Ge’ taxi.”

Taehyung tapped you on the shoulder.

“He can stay here, too, if you like.”

You groaned a thank you as he sloped off towards his bedroom with a backwards wave and you heaved Yoongi onto the sofa (which had previously had your name on it).

“Honey, you’re not going home,” you told him as you rolled him onto his side. “You can stay here.”

He tried to protest, to roll himself forwards, to argue something. Unfortunately for him, he was so drunk, his argument was barely intelligible; you simply pushed him back onto the sofa and told him again he was staying at Taehyung’s.

“Hey,” he said throwing a hand in the air as if he was trying to point at you. “Y’ here.”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Good... Yeah, ’s good. Y’ good.” His eyes were barely open, but he smiled sleepily at you. “I like you..." He chuckled. “You’re... good.”

“Thank you; you’re good, too.”

He snorted lightly and chuckled again. “Yeah... Best... Be-”

As if hit by lightning, he sat up and looked at you, eyes wide.

“Costume!”

“Costume?”

He gestured to himself.

“M’ costume. D’y’ guess yet?”

“You’re not in a costume, babe. You can stop pretending.”

He looked outraged and continued to gesture at his clothing.

“This!” he cried.

“You are literally so drunk, love, I don’t even know what the fuck you are talking about.”

“’Xactly.”

“What?”

“Drunk.” Yet more gestures to his clothes; he picked at his T-shirt and ruffled it. “Loads.”

“You’re so drunk... you’re wearing black?”

He groaned loudly and clutched at your hands.

“Yes,” he said, slowly and deliberately, emphatically even. You couldn’t believe he had somehow become the one who knew what was going on. He was so impatient with your inability to apparently put two and two together, even while he was falling-down drunk, so drunk he could barely manage a full sentence. So drunk he was barely conscious. So dru-

“Oh, fuck me!” you exclaimed. “You’re blackout drunk.”

Yoongi fell back onto the sofa with his hands in the air. He threw a hand up to his face in what you thought might have been an attempt at a peace sign.

“See? Fuckin’ costume.”

Then he closed his eyes and was, you assumed, fully unconscious. You turned away, on a new mission to hunt down some blankets or pillows from one of the Taes who shared the apartment. Yoongi mumbled and you ignored it but his mumbling took on a more insistent, deliberate note so you returned to him.

“Are you trying to say something to me, sweetheart?”

Yoongi nodded—just barely—and his hand lunged forward, aiming for the hand you had rested on his shoulder, missing, and hitting himself slightly around the face. You took it gently for him and he mumbled some more, with effortful enunciation.

“You’re th’ best thing to happ’n t’ me this year. The best thing.”

You smiled.

“No, that would be breaking up with your cunt ex-girlfriend.”

Yoongi shook his head with a glazed smile on his face.

“But that was you, too.”

He smiled a little wider, open-mouthed, and kind of weird with his eyes still mostly closed, then his head fell back against the cushion and his entire body slumped. You waited a minute just to make sure he was unconscious this time.

Yoongi woke, if you could call it that. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, his brain too big for his skull. His limbs felt heavy and rubbery, as if he couldn’t quite make them go where he wanted. He was thirstier than he’d ever been and his bladder uncomfortably full. He didn’t know what time it was; he couldn’t remember where he was; his memory of the preceding night was scant and hazy. His eyelids felt heavy as lead as he tried to force them open. The first thing he saw was your face opposite him: you were sleeping on the floor. He felt bad for that. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, couldn’t remember ending up on this sofa but he knew he should never have let you end up on the floor. He’d have moved if he’d been able, forced you to swap places. As it was, he could barely shuffle enough to find his phone in his pocket.

It was only 6am. He was in half a mind to get up and leave. The other half of his mind let him know he wasn’t physically capable of f movement, not even close. Barely able to think straight, he let his head flop back against the cushion again; he could sleep a little longer, just a little. And then he would go.

‘A little’ became four hours and when Yoongi woke for a second time (feeling marginally more human) and blinked his eyes open, you weren’t opposite him any longer. He stared at the empty space on the floor as he tried to will his brain back into his body.

Then he heard noises from elsewhere in the apartment, some quiet talking, the chink of china against china, your laugh. So you were still here. That was good. Yoongi shuffled onto his front and peered over the arm of the sofa, from where he could see just a small slice of the kitchen through the doorway. He focused and could hear you and Hyunjin chatting low, laughing as you moved around the room. There was a stab of anxiety that made him worry you were laughing about him, at him; large sections of the night had not made their way back to Yoongi so he had no idea what kind of stupid thing he might have done or said. You wouldn’t do that; he knew you wouldn’t do that. And yet.

A door to Yoongi’s right opened and Taehyung padded out in slippered feet. Yoongi froze, embarrassed, unsure, but Taehyung didn’t even see him on his way to the kitchen, still bleary-eyed and waking up. Yoongi could imagine what he couldn’t see: a morning kiss for Hyunjin, their sleepy smiles, hands clasping, their tired bodies leaning into each other for support. He heard your chipper greeting (“Teddy!” with the long drawn-out final vowel as always) and saw in his head the way your arms would stretch out for a hug with Taehyung’s stretching back; he’d kiss you on the head and ruffle your hair and take the cup of coffee from your hand to drink from rather than drinking his own.

He was happy you had Taehyung. He didn’t know what it was like to have that kind of bond with someone. The rock solidness of it. The stability. The assuredness. The way he’d never, not once, seen even the slightest hint of doubt whenever you spoke about Taehyung. The way you knew he was there, would always be there; the way he was. That your faith in him was in every part a reflection of the reality of your friendship.

It ached in him, this loneliness Yoongi felt. He was on the outside here, in Taehyung’s apartment, in this little social circle, but sometimes he felt on the outside of all life. Like he was missing something vital—within himself or without he could never decide. Maybe both.

Then he chastised himself – all the more harshly for his hangover – because he had friends, good friends, kind friends, who did not deserve him self-indulgently whining to himself about how he didn’t have a good enough friend, didn’t have a Taehyung, as if he would ever have let anyone get close enough to be a Taehyung.

He sighed and stopped watching that slice of life, resting his forehead on his arm, working out how to get out of this as quickly and quietly as possible. He was gathering strength for it, for seeing everyone, for facing people, for having to do the awkward goodbye thing where no one really cared that he was there or that he was leaving but they’d all pretend that they’d even notice his absence, when he heard your voice again, louder this time.

No, not louder.

Closer.

“Hello, you.” You held out your mug to him. “Want some coffee?”

Chapter Six | Masterlist | Chapter Eight

Taglist: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @quarter-life-crisis2, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings

#yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #bts fic #bts x reader #suga x reader #suga fic

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chuuyanakaharalegalwife · 7 months

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Your Umbrella (Dazai x Reader)

I love him. My baby, my love, my sunshine is safe and happy in my bed.

Wrote this before watching today's new episode! This feels rushed because I was too excited for the new episode to wait to write it out. Sorry babes, Dazai is my top priority.

Post episode Mars: I giggled and kicked my feet like a little girl! That was some gay shit, but HELLO DAZAI IS ALIVE! My babyboo ahh.

(Also did you guys see the chapter236 JJK leaks?! I shall write for Gojo...I'm coping)

Writing is how I cope.

In which we talk with Dazai while we both overlook the setting sun (see what I did there hehe)

Bye now - Mars ♡

Together on a bench, onlooking the sunset, you and Dazai sat in silent. The rays of the warm sunlight pleasant on your skin and face. The clouds, a pretty colour of orange and yellow. The blue contrast of the sky blended nicely.

“Why are you a detective?” you asked Dazai, you were in a sulky mood today, you felt… drifty, for lack of a better word. It was one of those days where you wake up and question your existence. Why were you you? Why did you want to do this job? Why did your life turn this way?

Dazai shifted his gaze to you, his eyes looking at yours. He let out a silent sigh before giving you a smug smile.

“Don’t I look like I belong here? Plus it’s quite interesting” He looked up at the pretty clouds and then muttered under his breath, “This job comes naturally to me”

“Brushing my teeth comes naturally to me but that’s because I’ve done it a million times” you stated, and you heard him chuckle.

“I suggest you don’t compare your little daily routine to my life darling” he snorted, eyes still on the sunset.

“Do you take pride in your job?”, you continued to probe. Your mind was curious, but your heart wasn’t. Your heart feared triggering him and making him angry, a product of your own troubled past. But you knew Dazai, you wanted to believe you did, and he wouldn’t snap like that. He was too much of an unserious person. But what if?

Dazai gave a small nod, confirming your assumption. He turns to look at you, “it’s because of my job that I’ve been able to accomplish many things” his smile smug, “Impressive, yes? Heh.”

“Many things like?” You seem to not take the hint to not go further but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Handling guns” he jokes and you chuckle, it wasn’t even funny. His voice just made everything sound giddy.

“Have you accomplished happiness?” you tilt your head and look back at him.

Dazai freezes up but quickly basks it with a little laugh and turns backed to face the sun. A desperate attempt to avoid your eyes. “Do I look unhappy?” he muses, his voice teasing.

“I’d rather not judge a book by its cover. You tell me.”

Dazai laughs, “What a curious thing you are, asking me such a thing” he smiles, it’s not pretty you think.

“Should I be irritated by your little question or find it funny how straightforward you are” He asks you with a little smirk. When you don’t answer and just stare at him, he adds “Happiness had abandoned me, I’ll say, a very long time ago.”

Abandonment? Was this the closest Dazai will ever allow you to be? Desperate and lovesick, you grabble at any piece of crumbs he gives. It’s pathetic. You attempt to keep your cool, but you’re sure he knows how you really feel. He seems to always know everything.

“Doesn’t that contradict the philosophy ‘Happiness is found inside of us’?”

Dazai glances at you for a moment, then back to the sun, he let out a small hum of interest. You really had a way of surprising him, not that he’d ever let you know that.

“I suppose so, however the happiness I’m searching for cannot be reached. I assure you that.”

You stole a glance at his face, he seems to be reminiscing on something. Or maybe that was just another façade to lead you astray from his true feelings.

“Why not?”

With a bit of hesitation, he smiles, eyes bright. A change that catches you off guard, Dazai shifts closer to you. The edge of his trench coat brushing up against your pants. He lowers his voice several octaves, almost in a forbidden whisper, “Because I am searching for one thing that cannot be obtained.”

Your eyebrows shot up, “And what’s that? Dinosaurs?”, a futile attempt to lighten up the conversation. You wanted so badly a shred of him, the real him, but now that you think you’re getting it, you’re not sure. You’re running away.

Dazai laughs amused by your response, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he closes them, letting the laughter overtake him. “Good observation, but no” he clicks his tongue playfully, “To put it simply. I am searching for one thing to fill…” he sighs out and shakes his head a little.

“Ah” he giggles, “I’m not sure what I’m searching for” he deflects. He doesn’t know if he should share, if he could bare to say it out loud. Because to say it out loud would mean to admit it. To acknowledge it.

Bullshit. You knew it was a lie. He was a liar. Damn your heart for falling for him.

Looks at him, “It’s okay” you said with a sigh, “I’m searching for myself in a way,” you decided to turn the conversation on you to avoid going to go down the road of awkwardness.

“The thing…I’m searching for doesn’t exist, love doesn’t exist.” He sounded like he was in pain. Like it pained him to say that. To tell you that. You find yourself feeling guilty, did you pressure him?

“Love isn’t limited, so again, why?” you continue.

Once again for the multiple time, Dazai laughs “Curious little thing indeed” he turns to look at you, “Think you have a chance, Bella?”

You find your face heating up and keeps your eye on the sun to avoid his gaze.

“Do you think you could meet my standards? They’re quite high” he teases and once again you think he’s deflecting. A big distraction to avert your eyes from peering at him.

He holds his head up high, his gaze on you unwavering. You aren’t looking at him, but the intensity of his eyes pins you to this old bench.

“Are they high to protect your heart?” you blurt you before you even knew what you were saying. “Sorry!” you instantly apologize.

Dazai was surprised by your statement, yes that was exactly what it was. He stayed silent for a moment, contemplating your words. “Perhaps,” he sighs, shall I take a chance? He questions himself, a battle between his brain. “I have set out expectations that I’m even unsure about myself.” He spoke and then stayed silent. He waited for your next words. His heart was pounding yet his face had a smug smile.

“Expectations are like umbrellas, they stop rain and sun from reaching us” you state, and then laughs.

“Indeed, but what’s your point?”

“Rain is like pain, yes your umbrella, your walls, protect you from it” you cross a leg over the next, eyes drinking in the sunlight. “But you miss out on the warm sun too.”

Dazai ponders to himself for a moment. It appears you’ve managed to grasp a greater sense of him. Did he underestimate you? No, he wouldn’t be so careless. “Quite the profound analogy you have there, it’s fascinating.” He smiles at you, “How did you come to this conclusion, might I ask?”

“You know, I like sun especially in the mornings and evenings, it’s like a warm hug” you fiddle with your shirt, “but I also like rain, though sometimes storms are too harsh for my umbrella.”

Dazai observed you for a while, the silence between you two comfortable. He noticed the light pink tinting your cheeks and the way you avoided his eyes. You had intrigued him, maybe he truly had a soft spot for you.

The silence was not comfortable for you, did you overstep? Did he find your analogy dumb? Your mouth acted on its own, “I always use my umbrella” you stated, “But one harsh storm broke it, and I was drenched with a skeleton of an umbrella” your eyes have this faraway look, he notes.

“And then the sun hit me and I wasn’t ready and I was scared” you breathe out, closing your eyes. Dazai thinks the sight is better than the setting sun, “But it dried up my wet clothes and wet skin and wet hair. It felt warm and…yellow” you laugh softly, “yellow is such a beautiful colour, yes?”

He hums, “Are you saying that you decided to get rid of your protection and walk and bask in the sunlight that you so adore” his voice is light and teasing. His eyes laser focused on you as if you’d burst open and come up with a new revelation.

“Yes, sun being metaphor for love. Rain for pain, umbrella for protective walls and wet for I guess, depression?” you break down your words, trying to make him understand. He already understands, he just loves your voice so much.

“To translate from my understanding, you’re saying you choose love regardless of the costs?” you nod.

“You fascinate me,” he admits boldly, “Do you have someone in mind?”

“Someone in mind?”

“For love, the person you choose will be a caliber of that, do you?” He shifts his eyes to the clouds. A blissful sight.

“When I say sun is love I don’t speak of lovers. I would say I’m my own sun. A lover would be a mirror, reflecting to me how bright my own sun shines.” Your lips presses together into a thin line.

“A mirror, I see” he chuckles. “Oh, you curious little thing” he smiles.

“Then can we test this?”

“Test what?”

“Let go of your umbrella and let me be your mirror,” he takes a hold of your hand, “Belladonna,”

“Osamu”

His heart stops when you whisper his given name. It sounded so beautiful falling from your lips. “Say it again” he leans in and connects your lips together.

#dazai osamu #marswrites #bsd dazai #bsd x reader #dazai fluff #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #the setting sun #sunsets #bsd fluff #fluff #bsd x reader fluff #osamu fluff

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threewaywithdelusion · 10 months

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I Forgot What I Called This on AO3 (Stranger Things Fanfiction)

Because AO3 is down and I'm posting my fanfic over here for people to read. If you search "Mia writes fanfic" on my page, you can see all the fic I've posted here

Steve had been getting things ready for the kids all week and they were arriving tomorrow morning and he definitely wasn’t losing his mind. Robin had called him a mother hen three times already and had taken to just smiling fondly and rolling her eyes as Steve moved the couch for the twelfth time, trying to make sure Max’s wheelchair would fit through the tight space.

“It’ll be fine, Dingus,” she said for the millionth time. “The kids love you and they’re going to keep on loving you even if you don’t move our coffee table three inches to the left.”

Steve scowled. “You say that, but if Max hits the table Lucas is going to bite my head off. And Dustin will say something about how if I’d paid more attention in math or physics or wherever the hell you learn this stuff, I would have known to move the table three inches to the left. And then-“

“And then nothing!” Robin said. She set her glass of wine down on the floor — Steve winced, knowing she was going to trip over it later — and came over to take his hands. “They’ll still love you exactly the same. They’re your kids.”

“I haven’t seen them since Christmas!” Steve said.

Robin gave him a fond look. “It’s been three months, Steve. They haven’t forgotten you in that time. Now sit down with me before you give yourself gray hairs and ruin that pretty head of yours.”

Steve took a deep breath and followed Robin to the newly-relocated sofa, picking up her glass of wine and handing it to her moments before she could kick it.

Steve picked up his own glass of wine, which he’d barely touched.

“To our last moments of peace and quiet,” Robin said.

Steve knocked his glass against hers.

***

The kids looked so grown-up.

Lucas was insanely tall and he looked like a proper, put-together adult, pushing Max’s wheelchair with one hand and carrying two duffel bags on his shoulder. He’d clearly been working out and his clothes were a little trendier than what he used to wear. He was the only one of the three to have already turned eighteen, and Steve couldn’t believe how quickly he was growing up.

Max also looked completely different from the kid Steve had first met. There were the things strangers noticed about her first — the milky-white eyes she refused to hide behind sunglasses, even when the lights gave her headaches, and the wheelchair — but she’d also cut most off that long red hair off. She had a short cut which she’d spiked up with hair gel and Farrah Fawcett hairspray — Steve had taught her how to do it, over a year ago — and it made her look badass and alternative and like she was comfortable with herself.

Dustin still wore his nerdy baseball cap, but his curls had grown out past his shoulders — an homage to Eddie — and still wore a nerdy shirt with a button up over it. Of all the kids, he looked the most the same, the most like the thirteen-year-old who had dragged Steve into his life with a hunt for a missing demodog.

Steve loved them all so much.

He ran towards them, ignoring Robin’s “they’re walking this way anyway!” and immediately pulled Dustin into a hug. Dustin dropped his suitcase to return it, holding Steve tightly and already chattering away.

They rocked from side to side for a moment.

“I thought California was supposed to make you tan, but you look the same,” Dustin said.

Steve gave a watery laugh and pulled out of the hug. “I missed you too, you dick.”

“Is Steve crying?” Max asked.

“No!” Steve protested.

Max raised her eyebrows judgmentally. “Are you lying to the blind girl?”

Lucas grinned, leaning on the back of her wheelchair. “Not cool, Steve.”

Steve stepped around Dustin and Lucas came over to give Steve a hug. God he was so fucking tall.

Behind him, Steve could hear Robin greeting Dustin.

Steve bent down to give Max a hug too. She squeezed him, then traced over his head before letting him pull back.

“Did you cut your hair?” she asked.

“A bit,” Steve told her. “There’s a longer floppy bit in the front, but it’s shorter all around.”

Max tilted her head. “Does it look good?”

“Of course!” Steve scoffed, right as Lucas said “eh.”

Steve snapped his fingers at Lucas. “You’re dead to me, Sinclair.”

“So your hair got worse and you’re pasty, Steve?” Max teased. “What have you been doing out here?”

“I’ll have you know that I look amazing,” Steve told her. “Lucas and Dustin are just liars.”

“You are pasty!” Dustin protested.

“It’s okay, I don’t have to see it,” Max said. She put a hand over her heart. “I’ll always remember you fondly, the way you looked on Lovers Lake.”

Steve grinned. He’d heard this story many times over the years and he always loved it, even though the details tended to change depending on whether Max, Lucas, or Dustin was telling it.

Lucas scowled. “Forget him! You should remember how hot I looked!”

Max reached behind her and Lucas put his hand where she could find it just so that she could pat it condescendingly. “I remember, baby. You looked great for fifteen.”

Lucas made a sound of indignation, but he was smiling fondly as he picked Max’s hand up and kissed it.

Dustin groaned. “I’ve been third-wheeling them the whole way here. Please tell me I don’t have to share a room with them.”

“We’re not that bad,” Lucas protested.

At the same time, Max said, “You’re just jealous because you don’t see Suzie until Wednesday.”

“You don’t have to share a room,” Steve said. “Robin and I are taking her room, Lucas and Max are taking my room, and Dustin, you get the couch.”

“Why do I get stuck with the couch?” Dustin asked.

“Because you’re only here for four days,” Steve said.

“Yeah, Steve’s jealous that you don’t like him as much as Suzie,” Robin teased. “You’re breaking his heart, Dusty-Bun.”

“That is not true!” Steve protested.

“So does this mean you two are finally…” Dustin directed at Steve and Robin, eyebrows waggling.

Steve groaned. “No, Dustin. Never going to happen. Come on, let’s get going.”

He grabbed both of the duffels Lucas had been carrying so Lucas could use both hands to push Max.

“Why would we be paying rent for a two-bedroom in San Francisco if we were together,” Robin asked Dustin. “Have you seen rent prices around here? Cause I could probably sell a kidney for less than an apartment.”

Dustin got a thoughtful look on his face. Steve wasn’t optimistic that Dustin would give up if he hadn’t in the past four years, but he watched as Robin walked with him, trying (hopelessly) to talk him out of it.

“What about Robin?” Max asked.

Steve didn’t answer at first, assuming she was talking to Lucas, until she poked him in the thigh.

“What?”

“Does Robin look hot?”

Steve groaned. “Not you too, Mayfield.”

“Come on, Steve, you have to tell me.”

“Her hair is a bit longer and the tips are blue,” Steve said.

Max huffed. “Thank you for that being completely unhelpful. Do you even like girls? That was the lamest description I’ve ever heard.”

Steve sputtered.

“Yeah, she looks hot,” Lucas said.

Steve shot him a look, trying to warn him that when your girlfriend asked if another woman was hot, it was always a trick question. You should never, ever answer with a yes.

If Max and Lucas broke up again right before staying with him for a week, Steve was going to lose his mind.

“Thank you, Lucas!” Max said, sounding triumphant. “That’s how it’s done.”

Steve blinked, first at Max, then at Lucas.

He would never have gotten away with saying that to Nancy or Debbie or any of the girls he’d dated. Hell, the only woman he would say that to was Robin, and that was because she had equal interest in pretty women.

Lucas gave Steve a little smile that Steve couldn’t interpret.

Steve gave up.

“Whatever is going on between you two, just know that I promised Mrs. Sinclair multiple times that you wouldn’t be in the same room. So if anyone asks, Dustin bunked with Lucas and Max stayed with Robin while I took the couch.”

“How noble of you,” Dustin shouted back, the little eavesdropper. “To take the uncomfortable couch instead of forcing it on your unsuspecting guests!”

Steve flipped him off.

“We’re not stupid,” Max said. “We know how to lie our asses off.”

“And I don’t want to hear any noises!” Steve added. “I don’t care what you do in there, but for the love of god, don’t make me hear it!”

Lucas made a horrified face. “Man, please stop talking.”

Steve was also blushing, but he forged on. “Last thing, I promise. I’m hating this just as much as you are.”

“I doubt that,” Max muttered.

Steve’s face was burning. “There are condoms in the bedside table,” he told the floor.

There was no response. Steve risked a peek at the kids and saw that they both looked vaguely traumatized and bright red.

Robin and Dustin, who had stopped by the car, watched as the three of them approached.

Robin took one look at Steve’s face and cackled. “Did he give you the safe sex talk?”

Dustin groaned.

Robin looked gleeful. She patted Dustin’s arm as she leaned in, pretending to whisper while talking loud as fuck. “Don’t be jealous, Dusty-Bun,” she teased. “Steve also bought you condoms to take to Utah.”

She and Max burst out laughing while Dustin turned to Steve with a look of horrified betrayal.

Steve pinched his nose. “Everybody get in the car or I’m leaving without you.”

***

Of course it didn’t matter how much Steve had fretted about preparing everything just right, because disaster struck just as they were getting ready to leave for their dinner reservations that night.

Max accidentally hit the end table. Steve watched in what felt like slow-motion as Robin’s half-full wine glass from the night before teetered off the side and into his lap, soaking his jeans.

He cursed at the huge red wine stain in his lap.

“Whoops,” Max said.

“Robin!” Steve hissed.

“Sorry!” Robin said. “I forgot I left the wine glass there. But like, in my defense, if the end table had been in its usual place or the couch had been in its usual place or you hadn’t rearranged literally all of our furniture, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“So it’s my fault?” Steve asked, pouting at her.

She was unmoved by his puppy-dog eyes. “Go change, Dingus. I’ll clean the couch.”

Steve stood, ignoring the wine running down his legs, and went to Robin’s room. It was a disaster because Robin emptied half her closet onto the floor every time she tried to decide what to wear. Two years of living with her had been enough for Steve to unlearn two decades of keeping his parents’ house neat and clean, and when he’d grabbed clothes from his room to give it to Lucas and Max, he’d ended up dumping most of it in a pile on the floor.

Steve toed off the dirty jeans and looked through the pile as best as he could. He’d grabbed way too many shirts and it looked like the only pair of jeans he’d taken were his going out jeans. They were tighter than his usual pair and made his ass look amazing.

He yanked them on quickly and met the others in the living room in time for them to head out for the reservation. They made it to the restaurant with just enough time to spare, Steve dropping them all at the door to claim the table and then driving a few more minutes to find parking.

When he finally entered the restaurant, the kids enthusiastically waved him down and he couldn’t help his smile as he slid into the booth beside Robin.

It was great to catch up with the kids in person instead of over the phone or Dustin’s Cerebro. Like this, Steve could watch Dustin’s eyes get all fond when he talked about going to school with Suzie in the fall if they both got accepted into MIT. He could hear Max’s laugh without static interrupting it. He could watch Lucas act out the plays in his most recent basketball game and see the way he still looked to Steve throughout the story, wanting approval.

Steve was so fucking proud of all of them.

Robin squeezed his hand under the table. “You look happy,” she whispered.

Steve squeezed back.

After Steve paid the bill — something that was much harder these days, but which he wasn’t going to tell the kids — they all meandered back to the car. Lucas and Max went ahead, murmuring quietly to each other. It was a nice night, clear and relatively warm for March.

“If you think so, then I’m stealing your coat,” Robin told Steve when he said that aloud. She didn’t wait for him to hand it over, but started stripping it off him. “I’m freezing.”

She wrapped his coat around herself and he laughed and put an arm around her, pulling her into his side and rubbing up and down her arm.

“Better?”

She hummed. “Toasty.”

There was no comment from Dustin, which was suspicious enough to make Steve check he was still there.

He was, walking on Steve’s left, but his attention was focused on Steve’s ass.

Steve frowned. “Dustin?”

Dustin looked up at him. “I don’t get it. Is there some fashion trend that Eddie was years ahead of? Or are you doing it to remember him? Neither of you were even super close with him!”

Steve took a minute to try to understand that, but it made no sense. He glanced at Robin, wondering if she was being slow, but she looked just as confused.

“What?”

“Your handkerchief,” Dustin said. “Are you wearing it for Eddie?”

Steve’s stomach flipped as he understood what was going on. He’d grabbed his going-out jeans in a hurry and he’d forgotten to take the handkerchief out of the back pocket from the last time he’d gone to a club.

Steve glanced over his shoulder to check what color he was wearing. It was dark blue, tucked into his right pocket.

Steve bit back a series of curses. He glanced at Robin again, who was watching him with wide eyes.

“Um,” Steve said. “I’m wearing it… like Eddie? In the same way, I think.”

“So to honor him?” Dustin asked. He traced his long curls. “Maybe I should do that.”

“No!” Steve said hurriedly. “Absolutely not!”

Dustin looked hurt. “I was way closer to him than you were, Steve. And I was the one there when-“

He cut off, glancing away.

Steve felt awful.

He and Dustin had had a bit of a rough time after Eddie’s death. Dustin had blamed both himself and Steve for letting Eddie die, and he’d felt guilty being friends with Steve when they’d lost Eddie. Like he was replacing one friend with another.

He knew how sensitive Dustin was about Eddie.

Steve was so open in San Francisco. He had followed Robin here because she wanted to be able to live without the same fear she’d had in Hawkins. He would have followed her anywhere. If she’d chosen the most homophobic town in the country he would have gone, despite the fact that traveling Europe with her after defeating Vecna had led Steve to realize he was interested in men. He was here because of her, not because of him.

But he loved living in a place where he could openly be himself. Where he could pass other men flagging on the streets and not just in discreet bars, hidden in the back corner of alleys. He loved when he and Robin went out and both brought people home, some girl coming out of Robin’s room in the morning to find Steve and his one-night-stand already making breakfast in the kitchen.

Being bisexual was a bigger part of him than he ever could have imagined back when he lived in Hawkins.

But he’d never been brave enough to tell the kids. They lived so far away and he saw them so infrequently and he hadn’t wanted to risk a negative reaction. If it went badly, they didn’t live in the same town. He couldn’t keep running into them, forcing them to slowly accept what he was. If the kids took it badly, they could just decide to never come back.

Steve couldn’t bear it if the kids walked away from him.

Robin nudged Steve gently, knocking him out of his thoughts.

Dustin looked really confused and upset. Fuck.

Steve would get hurt a thousand times before he ever hurt one of his kids.

“I’ll explain when we get home, okay?” Steve asked.

Dustin made a face. “Why not now?”

“It’s not something I want to just explain on the street,” Steve said. You never knew who might be listening, even in San Francisco. Besides, Dustin was guaranteed to ask a million questions even if he took it well, and Steve did not want to have that conversation on a random sidewalk.

“Fine,” Dustin huffed. He sped up a little to walk with Max and Lucas.

“You okay?” Robin asked.

“Yeah,” Steve said, his voice tight with fear.

“Dustin will be fine,” Robin said. “He loves you. He loved Eddie. I’ve never heard the kid say a single homophobic thing in his life.”

“Yeah,” Steve repeated.

“Steve,” Robin said seriously. She stopped walking and turned to face him. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. You can still make something up.”

“No,” Steve said finally. “I can’t. You’re right, I don’t think he’ll take this badly. Which means the only reason not to tell him is because I’m scared. I’m being stupid.”

“You don’t owe it to him,” Robin said.

Steve smiled tightly. “I’ve faced Demogorgons. Coming out has to be easier than that, right?”

Robin shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong lesbian, Steve. I’ve only ever come out to other gay people. I mean, even when I thought I was telling Steve “the Hair” Harrington — which was already easier, cause I was like, high on Russian truth serum — and that he was all popular and straight and definitely not gonna take it well, I didn’t know that I was secretly coming out to a bisexual guy who was going to become my platonic soulmate. So. No words of wisdom from me.”

Weirdly, Steve felt better after hearing that.

“Thanks, Robin,” he said.

“I love you,” she said seriously. “I’m here.”

“I love you too,” he said.

***

When they got back to the apartment, Dustin stomped over to the couch and took a seat, arms crossed.

Lucas looked at Steve warily. “You also did the bandana thing?”

Also? Was Lucas also still thinking about Eddie?

Steve sighed. “Okay, sit down. I’ll explain.”

Lucas took a seat beside Dustin and Max rolled her wheelchair so she was vaguely next to the couch, bumping the table again.

Steve moved to stand in front of the couch, wringing his hands together. Robin leaned against the wall behind him, silently offering support.

Steve cleared his throat. “I’m, um,”

Bisexual.

The word wouldn’t come.

“Flagging,” he said instead. “That’s what it’s called when a guy wears a handkerchief in his back pocket.”

Lucas frowned. “Is that a fashion thing?”

“Not exactly,” Steve said. “It’s, um, a code? To let people know what you’re looking for.”

He was met with three blank stares.

“In the bedroom,” he croaked out.

Dustin’s face twisted. “It’s a sex thing?”

“Dude!” Lucas said.

“Why were you wearing it to dinner with us?” Dustin demanded.

“I forgot it was there!”

“I guess the new hair and the pastiness are working for you, if you’re getting enough girls that you’re forgetting your freaky sex flag is in your jeans” Max said. She looked the least affected of the three, but she was also blushing a little.

Yeah, Steve didn’t want to be talking about his sex life either.

“Wait, that doesn’t make sense,” Dustin said. “It can’t be a new thing because Eddie was wearing one three years ago. And it can’t be a big city thing, because Eddie and Will were wearing them around Hawkins. So who wears it?”

Steve choked on his spit. “Will?”

“Yeah?” Dustin said. “I told you. I said neither of you were close with Eddie, so it didn’t make sense that you were wearing a hanky like he did.”

Steve gaped at Dustin. He didn’t know what to say. Dustin had just outed Will to Steve and he had no idea he’d done it. And now if Steve told Dustin who used hanky code, he would be outing Will to right back to Dustin.

“Fuck,” Steve said, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Does it mean something bad?” Lucas asked anxiously.

“No!” Steve blurted. “No!”

“So what does it mean?” Dustin asked.

Steve hesitated.

“Come on, Steve!” Dustin whined.

“Okay,” Steve said. “Look, I don’t know about Will, okay? Maybe he’s doing something else. Maybe it really is for fashion or something to him. I’m just talking about me.”

Max’s mouth dropped open a little and a look of comprehension crossed her face.

Steve didn’t stop to wonder what she’d put together. If he didn’t keep going, he would lose his nerve.

“It’s a gay code,” Steve said, voice shaking a little. “To let men know what I’m looking for.”

Absolute silence.

Dustin was frozen, mouth open and eyebrows up. He was staring at Steve is complete disbelief.

Lucas’s eyes were wide, and darting between Steve and Max.

Max’s face was frozen, the way it usually was when she needed to figure out what expression she wanted to show. She was cagey, only showing what she wanted and rarely what she was actually feeling.

Steve hoped she wasn’t hiding a negative reaction.

“YOU’RE GAY?” Dustin screamed.

Steve winced and shushed him. He wasn’t sure what the neighbors knew and did not want to find out.

“Bisexual,” he said. He felt Robin come up beside him to slide a hand into his and he dropped a little of his weight against her. “It means I like both. Men and women.”

Dustin looked like he was processing a new scientific discovery. “That’s a thing?”

Steve nodded.

“How did you know you were bisexual?” Dustin fired right away, brain clearly whirring with questions.

“I slept with a guy and liked it. So I slept with a couple more and liked that too, and then I got confused because I didn’t know you could like both and I was really sure I liked women. So I talked to a friend and they explained to me what bisexuality was.”

“Huh,” Dustin said.

Steve couldn’t take the suspense. Dustin had skipped straight to the interrogation and entirely blown past any kind of reaction, and the other two kids were just watching them go back and forth like it was a tennis match.

“Is that… okay? With everyone?” Steve asked. He heard Robin’s shoes scuff the ground behind him, like she was also anxiously waiting for an answer.

“Of course it’s fine, man,” Lucas said. He still looked a little surprised, but definitely not confused or revolted. He was actually taking this suspiciously well.

Over the years, Steve had given a lot of thought to how each of the kids would react. He’d figured Dustin would be nosy but accepting, Max would try to act cool even if she was a little freaked out, and Erica would say something insulting but would defend him harder than anyone. Mike would almost inevitably be a little asshole about it — Steve had eaten dinner at the Wheelers’ a lot when he’d been dating Nancy and he knew what sort of ideas Mike had been raised on. He’d been preparing for years to not take it personally when Mike reacted badly. Will was a bit of a wild card — Steve figured he was probably gay, but that his reaction would depend on where he was on his own journey of self-acceptance and whether he would be happy to have a gay friend or if he would lash out in an attempt to seem straight.

Lucas, though? Steve had never gotten a good reading one way or the other. He’d never heard Lucas say anything about gay people, positive or negative. And Lucas knew what it was like to be hated on by bigots like Billy because of the color of his skin, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was okay with gay people. In retrospect, Steve was pretty sure Billy had been some type of queer (he’d spent a lot of time harassing Steve while they were either sweating on a court or naked in the showers) and that certainly hadn’t stopped him from being racist, so it could definitely go the other way.

But Lucas was acting as if Steve had announced something unexpected but vaguely boring. Like he’d said he’d started rooting for the Golden State Warriors or traded in his car for a new one, instead of announcing he was sexually and romantically interested in men.

Dustin, on the other hand, looked insulted. “You think I care if you’re gay? I’m a little mad you didn’t tell me, but I don’t care who you date.”

“Yes, you do,” Steve said. “You try to set me up on dates all the time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just cause you’re always single and you can never get dates on your own. It’s kind of sad. I care about you not being lonely, not if you like dicks or not.”

Steve frowned. “Was that an insult or a compliment?”

Dustin scoffed. “You’re an idiot. But I, uh, love you and stuff. Even if you didn’t tell me you were gay for literal years.”

Steve felt a little warm inside and he couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, buddy.”

He looked at Max for a reaction, but she looked deep in thought. Okay. Maybe she needed time to process. He’d circle back to her.

“Was Eddie gay?” Dustin asked.

“Um, I mean, I can’t know for sure. He didn’t come out to me or anything. But he was definitely flagging and I’m pretty sure he was flirting with me when we were in the Upside Down.”

Dustin squinted at Steve. “So you and Eddie…?”

“No,” Steve said. “I only realized I liked guys after… everything.”

Dustin nodded like that made sense. “Is that why you moved to San Francisco?”

Steve debated how to answer that.

“No,” Robin said. “Steve moved here because of me. I moved here because it’s easier to be gay in San Francisco.”

Steve turned to gape at her. Robin was shaking slightly and cutting off the circulation in Steve’s hand, but her chin was tilted up proudly and her eyes were boring into Dustin.

Dustin was gaping. Max’s face was turning red.

“Sorry to steal your thunder,” Robin whispered.

Steve squeeze her hand. “I’m proud of you.”

She beamed. “You too, Dingus.”

“Oh my God,” Dustin said slowly. “Is this why you two won’t date?”

Robin laughed. “Yeah. I’m way too much of a lesbian to date Steve.”

Steve scrunched up his nose. “Like I’d date you, Buckley.”

“You asked me out,” Robin sing-songed. “You would totally date me.”

“You asked her out?” Dustin demanded.

“Ugh, yeah. Back when we still worked at Scoops Ahoy. She told me I would have a better shot if I was Tammy Thompson.”

“I knew Robin was your type!” Dustin was bouncing on the couch in excitement.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said. “You also didn’t notice that Robin was a lesbian for four years, so don’t be too proud of yourself.”

“Oh come on, Steve, how was I supposed to guess that everyone I know is gay?”

“Everyone?” Steve asked.

Dustin listed them off on his fingers. “You, Robin, Will.”

“You can’t be sure about Will,” Steve said halfheartedly.

Dustin gave him a look. “I assumed he was gay when we were like ten, Steve.”

Yeah. That made sense. Steve barely knew Will Byers before all the Upside Down shit had happened, but even he’d heard rumors in the days following Will’s disappearing about Will being gay. It made sense that Will’s oldest friends would have heard those rumors — and probably more — and that they would wonder if some of them were true.

“One out of three isn’t terrible gaydar,” Robin said.

“One out of four,” Max said.

They all turned to look at her. She was staring vaguely in the direction of Steve and Robin, holding Lucas’s hand in a death-grip.

“What?” Robin breathed, sounding excited.

“I like girls too,” Max said. “And Lucas.”

God, she was so fucking brave. Max had no choice but to stand out. Everywhere she went, people stared at the blind girl in the wheelchair. They pitied her. They pitied Max, which was insane. Max was smart and brave and stubborn and sarcastic as hell. She wasn’t someone to be pitied, she was someone to be admired.

Case in point: she didn’t have to paint another target on her back. She could have kept quiet and kept dating Lucas, who she was probably going to marry, and no one would ever assume she was anything other than straight.

Steve was twenty-two and had known he was bisexual for two years and had only said something because he hadn’t seen another way to keep from hurting Dustin.

Max was seventeen and already braver than Steve would ever be, holding Lucas’s hand defiantly and volunteering the information that she liked girls.

“See!” Dustin said, gesturing at Max. “Everyone I know is gay!”

That was a very Dustin reaction, even if it wasn’t necessarily the right one.

“Thanks for telling us, Max,” Steve said.

“If you ever wanna talk about girls, you can call me,” Robin said. “I talk to Steve sometimes, but he has terrible taste and he has the audacity to say that I have terrible taste and I would love to talk to another girl about this.”

Max grinned. “I get to talk to Lucas. And I know he has perfect taste because he chose me.”

Dustin made a gagging sound.

Lucas pressed a kiss to Max’s shoulder, looking embarrassed but pleased.

Steve was so proud of him. Max had clearly told him before tonight, and he was still here holding her hand, so he must have done everything right. He obviously hadn’t acted offended or taken it as a challenge to his masculinity that his girlfriend liked girls.

Steve thought of their little exchange in the airport and the way Max had asked if Robin looked hot.

His heart warmed, watching them.

He never would have believed that a relationship between two thirteen year olds would last this long. He was going to walk Max down the aisle someday, and he was willing to bet his measly life savings that Lucas would be the one waiting for her at the end.

“Am I gay?” Dustin wondered out loud.

Steve laughed. “Dude! I think you would know if you were gay.”

“You’d think, wouldn’t you?” Robin said. “But sometimes your twenty-year-old best friend tells you he thought everyone thought about pretty boys and you realize that some people are too much of a dingus to realize they’re gay.”

The kids all laughed.

“So what does your bandana mean?” Max asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Dustin made a face. “I don’t wanna know what Steve does in bed!”

Max shrugged. “I do.”

“Okay, someone’s a little too interested, Mayfield,” Steve said.

“I’m bisexual too!” Max protested. “I need to know this stuff.”

“You’re blind,” Dustin muttered. “You can’t even see the bandana.”

Max hit him threw a pillow at his head with unnerving accuracy.

“Girls don’t really use the same code,” Robin said. “You have to actually have the guts to go up to a girl and talk to her instead of knowing what she’s into based on what she’s wearing.”

“But how does it work?” Lucas asked. “Are you just saying you’re looking for a hookup?”

Steve blushed.

“Educate the queer youth, Steve!” Robin said, the traitor.

“Only one of them is even gay!”

“You can’t tell Max and not me!” Dustin immediately protested.

“And Max tells me everything, so I might as well hear it too.”

Steve groaned. He kind of wished a gate to the Upside Down would open under his feet so he could get out of having this conversation.

“Okay. The colors mean you’re looking for different things. And it also matters if the bandana is in the right or left pocket, because that tells people if you wanna do the thing or have the thing done to you.”

There. That was a kid-friendly description, right?

“So if Eddie’s bandana was black, what does that mean?” Dustin asked.

Steve gulped. Robin cackled.

“Um, black is sadomasochism,” Steve said. He had to force every word out of his mouth. “So he liked, um, rough sex.”

He cringed as the kids all turned bright red.

It wasn’t a new feeling, wishing Eddie hadn’t died. But this was the first time Steve wished he was alive specifically so Eddie could be having this conversation instead of Steve. Eddie would have been shameless, loudly proclaiming his preferences to everyone around, and then the kids would learn to stop asking invasive questions when they learned much more than they wanted to.

“What’s yours?” Dustin asked.

“None of your business,” Steve said quickly.

“Come on, Steve,” Dustin said. “Now that I know you can’t date Robin, I need to find someone else to set you up with. And how am I supposed to know you’re compatible if I don’t know what your bandana means?”

Robin was shaking against Steve. He looked at her briefly in concern, only to see that she was losing the battle against a fit of giggles.

“Save me,” he hissed to her.

“Steve, this is the best entertainment I’ve had all year. I’ve never you seen you this red, even that time in Scoops-“

“It’s dark blue,” Steve said, to keep Robin from telling that particular story. “So just regular sex.”

Dustin frowned. “You’re wearing a bandana that literally just says you’re looking for sex?”

“What’s regular sex between two dudes?” Lucas asked, frowning.

Steve groaned. “Did your parents never give you the sex talk?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t cover that.”

Steve scrubbed his hands down his face. He remembered when he’d first started sleeping with men, how much information he hadn’t known. He’d been traveling through Europe with Robin, hitting different gay clubs in each city, and he’d initially picked up a guy because he was bored and thought he might as well try it. (In retrospect, the man had been really pretty and Steve had been curious for a while, but boredom had been the excuse he had given himself to go through with it).

He hadn’t known what two men could do with each other. He hadn’t known how to be safe. He was really goddamn lucky that he hadn’t taken home the wrong guy, or gotten an STD, or gotten AIDS.

No one had ever given Steve the gay sex talk either, and if they’d offered it to him back when they’d given him the straight sex talk, Steve wouldn’t have wanted to listen.

And here his kids were, asking him to explain. Sure, Dustin and Lucas were probably straight, but everyone had thought the same thing about Steve.

It couldn’t hurt for them to have more information than they needed, but it could definitely hurt for them to have less.

“Fuck it,” Steve said, “Fine. Always the goddamn babysitter.”

Robin made a squeaking sound. “Are you seriously giving them the sex talk?”

Steve nodded wearily.

“I’ll go be other there,” Robin said, gesturing at her room.

Steve caught her hand to keep her from leaving. “Absolutely not. You’re here to provide a girl’s perspective.”

“Steve, I did not sign up for this and I’m in no way qualified to give this talk.”

Steve stared at her. “And you think I am?”

“Goddamnit,” Robin huffed, conceding the point. “Fine, okay, sex talk, yay! This isn’t awkward at all.”

What followed was the most embarrassing hour of Steve’s life. He tried to start with the basics (consent, condoms) and only give the kids the absolutely essential facts, but they all asked really pointed and specific questions. Even Lucas, who Steve couldn’t imagine asking these questions in a group setting, was emboldened by Dustin and Max’s shameless questions to ask about a horrifically detailed “hypothetical” that had Max blushing and burying her face in her hands.

Dustin made Steve explain the entirety of the hanky code (“Wait, why would you wanna be the one getting fucked? How does that feel good?”), asked a million questions about Steve’s type (“Hot brunettes isn’t a type, Steve!”), and then asked for advice about how to make sure a girl was actually ready to have sex and wasn’t just doing it to rebel against her super-religious family (… uh, Robin? Any thoughts?”).

At the end of the night Steve was pretty sure that he was going to have a bright red face forever and that his hair was in disarray from how many times he’d run his hands through it, but he also felt like his kids were thoroughly prepared for any situation they might encounter.

He sent the kids use the bathroom first and started laying sheets on the couch for Dustin. He layered a few blankets on because San Francisco could get cold at night, then was handed a pillow.

“Thanks,” he said, looking up to see it was Dustin helping out.

Dustin barreled into his chest, throwing his arms around Steve in a tight hug.

Steve dropped the pillow and hugged him back.

“I miss you,” Dustin said.

“I miss you too.”

“Will you still come visit me when I’m at MIT? Even though it’s farther than Hawkins and the rest of the Party won’t be there?”

“Dustin, you haven’t even gotten in yet.”

“But will you?” Dustin asked, planting his chin on Steve’s chest to look up into Steve’s eyes. And even though Steve knew he was 17, almost a full adult, he looked just like the kid Steve had first met, wide-eyed and looking to Steve for reassurance.

“Of course,” Steve said. “I’ll be over there so much you’ll get sick of me.”

“Even though you have a job and Robin and you don’t have to drive us around everywhere anymore?”

Steve huffed. “Dude, I haven’t driven you all everywhere in years. And Robin can survive without me for a few days. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Steve said.

Dustin pulled out of the hug, giving Steve a toothy smile. Then he scowled and punched Steve’s arm. “Next time, don’t wait years to tell me something important, asshole!”

Steve grinned.

Dustin didn’t care. He wasn’t pushing Steve away for being queer. He was actually trying to make sure that Steve would stay in his life, that growing up didn’t mean Steve would leave.

Steve pulled the brim of Dustin’s cap down, earning him a disgruntled yelp.

“Alright,” Steve promised. “The next time I have a life-changing realization, you’ll be the first to know.”

Dustin smiled evilly. “Even before Robin?”

Steve froze. “I’m not picking favorites Henderson, so don’t even try it.”

Max and Lucas emerged from the bathroom and Steve gently pushed Dustin towards it, finally joining Robin in her room.

Robin was lying on the bed in her pjs, still faintly blushing from the sex talk. “I am never having kids. That was the worst, oh my god. I suddenly understand why my parents just threw a bunch of books at me and told me to figure it out.”

“I got the sex talk from health class,” Steve admitted, digging through the pile on the floor for pjs. “It was not helpful at all.”

Robin snorted. “I’m sure you learned from hands-on experience, Romeo.”

“No, but that’s my point,” Steve said. “I slept with all these girls and all of them only said nice things. I was so sure I was doing a good job, and then I date Nancy for longer than a few weeks and she’s Nancy, so she does research.”

He hissed the word and Robin sniggered. “Oh, she would.”

“She did! And then she gave me notes. Literal, physical notes, on how to do better!”

Robin laughed so hard she went quiet, rolling from side to side on the bed and clutching at her ribs.

“Robin, Robin, don’t laugh at me,” Steve pouted. “It was humiliating.”

Robin could not stop laughing. “Were the notes on flashcards?”

Steve aggressively yanked pajamas from the pile and refused to answer. The notes had been on flashcards. And they’d been color-coded into general tips and things Nancy specifically wanted to try.

Steve changed into pajamas as Robin gradually got her giggles under control.

“Hey, babe,” Robin said.

Steve looked up. “Yeah?”

She looked serious, sitting up and meeting Steve’s gaze. “I’m proud of you. You were really brave tonight. And you gave me the courage to be brave too, and I never could have imagined a few years ago that I’d be living in San Francisco with my queer best friend and platonic soulmate having an extremely embarrassing sex talk with a bunch of teenagers, but it’s kind of perfect. I kind of love it.”

Steve smiled. He never would have imagined himself here either, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. His friendship with Robin was the most important thing in his life. And his kids, his wonderful, amazing, brilliant kids, who accepted him and admired him and needed him and loved him — they were here. They’d traveled 2,000 miles just to see him.

“I kind of love it too,” Steve said.

Robin beamed. “Definitely worth a little Russian torture.”

What a weird, fucked-up metric. And Robin was still absolutely right.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #platonic stobin #the party #Steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #max mayfield #Lucas sinclair #max x lucas #mia writes fanfic #ao3 #because ao3 is down

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