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faeriekit · 2 months

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Health and Hybrids (XIX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here PART SIXTEEN is here PART SEVENTEEN is here PART EIGHTEEN is here...nineteen...oy vey.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... THE BART RETURNS! The earth rejoices! 🥳🎉 Physical therapy can be fun, even if it usually isn't!

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny learns a few more words with practice.

Foda is simple. If Danny is hungry, he can ask for foda. It sounds exactly like food, and when he asks, they feed him.

…Or they up his IV. Which. Danny’s tongue might still feel sore and nasty, but the doctors and nurses and millions of minders don’t seem that mad when he sticks his tongue out at them. Sometimes they even laugh.

They don’t even sound all that mean.

It takes Danny a good chunk of waking time for him to realize that he…probably is hooked up to something he doesn’t want to think about, since all the efforts of lifting and moving him haven’t resulted in a single bathroom trip since he woke up here.

Firstly: horrible.

Secondly: his legs are super, absolutely, positively immobilized, and if someone doesn’t give him enough medication quickly enough after it wears off, Danny is very aware that something is deeply wrong with them.

So. Uh. That’s…gross.

He learns bealo just as quickly. He isn’t sure what bealo means, per se, but when he says it, they up his medication until Danny can pretend he doesn’t have any legs again.

God niht is goodnight, unless Danny is feeling snippy, and then it’s just niht.

…The one lady who minds him always says the whole thing, though. Even when Danny’s mean. Like the one time he threw his rocket at someone.

Or the time he started ignoring everyone when they tried to touch him.

…Or the one time he tried to freeze his IV bag, and put everyone on alert because if he’d been human, that would have seriously hurt him.

“Sorry,” Danny’d whispered, even if it wouldn’t mean anything to her.

She’d patted his hand and meant it. Danny’d had to dry his eyes with his wrist. “Eall es wel.”

Anyway.

Danny hates being in the freaking bed every hour of every day. So when his “sitting up” exercises turn into “hey, let’s try the wheelchair” practice, Danny gets so excited-slash-nervous that he kind of feels like he’s going to throw up all the liquids he’s been injected with.

None of the regular people try to lift him. Instead the lady does it herself, scooping Danny up in very strong arms, the golden cuffs on her wrists weirdly warm on Danny’s skin. When Danny’s settled, his legs sticking out real weird and his back kind of sore, he’s…out of bed.

He’s. He’s not in bed anymore.

And. Sure. It’s temporary, but it’s not the bed. Danny can wriggle, and he can sort of palm the wheels underneath him with the heels of his shaky hands, and he can see so much more of himself than he has in ages and ages.

For one. Both of his legs are in casts. That’s. Not good. He can’t feel it right now, but the sight of fully encased legs…

Well. If he can transform that won’t be a problem. If. If he has to escape. But it is…it’s super scary. He mostly remembers being captured, but the…the other people had been focusing more on his thoracic cavity and his face and head.

…So why are his legs so bad? Did something else happen?

(It did, didn’t it?)

(…Didn’t it??)

His hands shake, but there’s something to all that grip training, or else Danny wouldn’t be able to paw at his neckline to look down his own shirt. Or, well, his cloth nightie, anyway.

It’s good that he looks, since, well…his chest is glowing a solid green.

Whatever should probably be scar tissue. Uh. It…isn’t. There’re gouges down his chest and a crater where his heart should be that probably should be healing over, considering, you know, he’s not freaking dead at this exact second (mostly??), but. Instead of, like, healed flesh, or, say, his insides, there’s a transparent green…jelly… holding him together.

He can see how the green bounces with his heart beat.

...Danny drops the neckline of his gown. His breath comes in choking bursts, eyes pressed into his eye sockets—he feels sick.

He is sick. He has been sick.

The humans are keeping him here because he’s a freak of nature and he’s broken from head to toe and the Guys in White carved his flesh out of his body and opened him up like a can of cranberry sauce.

He presses his hands to his chest, to his stomach, just trying to breathe for long enough that he doesn’t throw up his oatmeal and occasional juice and IV nutrition onto the pristine floor of his sickroom. The people around him all make sympathetic noises that don’t help because he doesn’t know what they mean.

And then he feels something weird.

Not all the sensation in his fingers are back. It’s easier for him to feel impediments than it is to feel textures—something that blocks him from moving, rather than anything sensory-specific. He can usually tell when he touches fabric, because when he moves too far, it pulls tight around his hand. He can tell when he’s on something solid when his hand fails to go through it.

There is something solid sticking out of him.

Danny’s heartbeat quickens. It’s not. It’s. There’s something in him.

And it’s not—it’s so solid. When Danny brushes his hands against it, he can feel his skin and his flesh move with it, trying not to dislodge the thing embedded in him. It pulls at his skin. He doesn’t know what it is.

His fingers tremble as he tries to brush over the object through his gown, trying to figure out its shape from faulty touch alone. It’s like waking up to find himself jammed with needles all over again.

People are talking around them. Danny doesn’t try to listen in. He’s scared. He’s so scared. Something’s happened to him, and he didn’t even notice.

Some of it is—hard. There’s a crinkling sound when he moves. Danny manages to pull his gown neckline back again to catch something of a glimpse, and all he sees is plastic.

He doesn’t know what it is.

He doesn’t know who to ask. He can’t understand anyone and he doesn’t know if he trusts them.

They put something in him. There’s something embedded in him.

He thinks he’s going to cry.

Something touches his arm—Danny flinches. His core tightens with stress as he puts a metaphorical hand on the button, ready to run and hide at any notice.

It’s the lady. He knows her.

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know her at all. He can’t talk to her in any way that matters. She’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know why she’s here, or why she’s keeping him here.

She’s nice. She fed him. But is that all it takes to trick him? To make him compliant? Pliable?

She stops touching him when he gets scared, her eyes worried. She kneels—closer than Danny would like, probably, but she keeps her hands to herself. Danny’s heart races faster, out of order, starting and stopping and starting again like a bad engine.

“Eow eart wel?” she asks from his left arm rest, a common question, so softly. Danny doesn’t know what it means. “Eall es wel. Ænlic eow, ænlic me. Bruce bræð wið me?”

She takes a big, deep, breath. Her hand rises slightly over her chest, following an exaggerated movement. Don’t panic. Breathe. Breathe like me. One, two, three.

Danny’s breaths are more choked. More panicked.

But when she breathes, he breathes with her—even with every stutter in between.

“Hwæt es woh[O3] ?” the lady asks, so gently it’s almost a whisper. Her pointer finger hovers over his body, but doesn’t touch—and eventually, Danny figures out she probably wants to know where he’s hurting.

But he’s not hurting. He’s scared. There’s something inside him, and he isn’t sure what it is. He presses the heel of his hand to the object. He feels something rigid refuse to bend inside his flesh.

There’s something of recognition in the woman’s face. “Inne cwic tima,” she says, more certain of answers outside the room, and darts away,

Danny wants to bounce his bound leg. He feels awful when anyone is in the room with him, considering how little of them he knows, but, somehow, it’s so much worse when he’s actually alone.

When she comes back, there’s a second person who walks through the double doors with her, in blue scrubs with ducks on them. They wave to Danny.

Danny…blinks. He feels numb. It’s kind of a problem.

They take it in stride, though; in their hands is a blank board and a chunky marker. The cap comes off, the new person scribbles for a minute or so, and then turns the board around so that Danny can see.

It’s a…person. A rudimentary outline person, sure, with some visible bones and organs to fill in the person-shaped outline. Danny can recognize most of them from anatomy class, although those memories are more…personal, now. A little more painful.

The person taps on the board. The person points to Danny.

Danny frowns.

The person turns the board back around and makes some Pew, Pew, Pew! sounds with their mouth, occasionally opening and closing their hand over the board to match the noise. There’s some more scribbling. When the board turns back around, there’s a violent smudge of marker on top of the drawn person’s drawn intestines.

The person takes their covered pinky finger and erases a little neat circle of marker in the intestines, mostly favoring one side. They draw a little arrow from the hole to the general outside-of-the-person blank area. Then another circle, with a thicker circle inside.

Danny recognizes the object jutting out of him. Oh. This is how he got it.

The person—probably a doctor, Danny guesses, or the surgeon who did this to him—do these people even need credentials, actually?—hands the board over to the lady. They hold out ten outstretched fingers, marker under their arm, and make a show of counting every one of the outstretched fingers with the opposite hand. Then they take the board back.

And then, when they write on the board, Danny can actually understand what they say.

Or, well, it’s numbers! The numbers are the same as his—the line and a circle is clearly meant to be a ten, and the little x is a multiplication symbol— they draw a 10, as clearly and a brightly as it could be against a stark white board, and add a little x 7, probably to indicate a week; the result is ten suns times seven, or seventy suns.

Danny feels his heart bounce in his chest. Danny would bet a whole lot of money that the number is meant to be seventy days. There is an end point. It’s not that Danny is free to be subjected to random anatomical whims—there’s a goal here. This was purposeful.

The little circle-within a circle gets erased. The hole is scribbled through as if it was never there, and the person makes a weaving gesture with the marker that Danny is certain is meant to be sewing.

Tears prick at his eyes. The lady gets close by him again, but Danny lets her. His hands aren’t good enough for wiping tears the way he wants to, yet. Help and company are good.

She gives him a tissue from Danny's bedside table. He takes it with a whisper of a grip.

“Seventy?” Danny rasps, tearful. Hopeful. Terrified of hope. He practically jams the tissue into his eye sockets.

The lady’s eyes go wide. “Seventy,” she repeats, marveling.

It’s enough. Nothing is perfect, but it’s enough. And if Danny's allowed to spend so long in front of the space window that he falls asleep in his wheelchair, well. It's not like he was in charge of where they went.

#*hip checks through the door* hey losers! Guess who uses Arabic numbers!! Two earths!!#also if ANYONE is shitty about stoma bags or ostomy bags on this fic or in this chat I'm going to fight you. Lots of people have them.#they're usually a temporary procedure and even if they're not they're pretty normal and a lot of people have them. I knew at least one #like haha this is a body horror fic but ostomy bags are a REAL THING that people HAVE as part of their medical journey DO NOT be rude!!#So what we know of his injuries now: messed up legs. Messed up guts. Messed up chest. Is there more...? Who can say. 👀#health and hybrids #dp x dc #dcu crossover #tw gore #tw medical #tw body horror #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #incarceration to elopement to healthcare pipeline #His healing is speeding up and his language is getting better! When can we get a Diana POV?? <- me to me

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outofconcheol · 7 months

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Sign Here For... (HJS x F!Reader)

pairing: delivery boy!Jisung x afab!reader genres/au/rating: crack, smut, fluff, one night stand au, 18+ summary: Feeling frustrated and reeling from your recent breakup, you put in a special order on your favorite delivery app. However, with the goods, comes Jisung, who's a lot more than you'd ever bargained for.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: past relationship and referenced breakup (Minho x reader), regrettable decisions are made, Jisung and reader are both so very shy and cute but also bold, lots of innuendos, alcohol use, swearing, some little thoughts of self-doubt, Jisung's black nail polish, unexpected feels, smut warnings: nsfw thoughts, sex toys, making out, nipple play, fingering (f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex (the pull-out method)

a/n: djsksk what is this?? except the unhinged product of both my imagination and my infatuation with Han Jisung. this is my first time writing a fic for anybody besides bts, so I'm super nervous about this. Special thanks to Miss Emme (@temptaetions) for informing me that Dashmart, of all places, sells sex toys which then became the impetus for whatever kind of delusional thing this is. i hope you enjoy, and please be nice!

This had the potential to be a bad idea. A very bad idea. Rubbing at your eyes, you glare at your phone screen in the dark, legs tucked underneath you on the couch. If this backfired, maybe you could blame the blue light. Your psych professor in college had always loved to mumble about how cell phones were killing the younger generations’ brain cells.

Or, you could blame the fact that you’d shown up to Chan’s party last night, determined to have a good time after months of moping over your breakup, only to find your ex, Minho, sucking face with a new girl. Yeah. You could definitely blame it on that.

It wasn’t like you didn’t expect him to move on — it was just that you also expected yourself to have. Minho had been your first and only relationship, lasting through all of college and beyond before you’d broken up, deciding your lives were heading in different directions.

Honestly, you hadn’t been upset until the party last night. You’d accepted the breakup, growing pains were inevitable when you’d gotten together so young. But the fact that he’d moved on this quickly and you hadn’t stung.

Not to mention you were horny. Four years with Minho and then just like that, it all stopped. All you wanted was to get laid again. Unfortunately, after a disastrous drunken encounter on a dating app with a physical therapy student named Changbin, in which he’d fallen asleep before you’d even done the deed, you decided that it might have been too soon, and to take a step back.

But you were human, and if devoting your college years to studying the human psyche had taught you anything, it was that humans were needy. Very needy. For food, for shelter, for company. Which is why you were surprised at how the human race hadn’t crumbled already, given the rate of break-ups and divorces occurring these days. The problem was, that despite being needy, humans were also overthinkers.

So you’d spent a week pondering over what you were about to do, rationalizing every aspect of it in your brain - the pros, the cons, the consequences. And had almost talked yourself out of it when running into Minho tonight had been the catalyst for driving your decision the other way completely.

All you wanted was to hop onto your favorite delivery app, ready to wallow in pity over some ice cream and chips, and maybe Pride and Prejudice (2005), but then you’d seen it.

It seemed delivery apps were becoming more and more full service these days. Because right there, past the Doritos and the body wash, were sex toys.

You feel your throat go dry and eyes widen as they flash across the screen - all different sizes, shapes, and colours. There was more variety than you expected.

Immediately, you groan at yourself. More variety than you expected? Who expected to see sex toys on a delivery app anyway? The drought must finally have been getting to your brain.

Throwing your phone aside, you groan, trying to ignore the throbbing at your temple and in between your thighs. Maybe it was time to go out and find someone – maybe your self-imposed celibacy was driving you stir-crazy. It wouldn’t be so crazy to check out Minho’s Instagram, and see how he was doing…

“Get it together!” you mumble to yourself, pinching your arm. You were not going to stoop to the level of texting your ex. However, you were going to stoop to a different level entirely. You wipe your clammy palms on your thighs, picking your phone back up and clicking on a pink one quickly, immediately scrolling down to avoid dealing with the consequences of your transgression.

A few minutes later, you’ve managed to fill the cart with a dozen different snacks…and well… the other thing. It taunts you as you check out, and you focus your mind elsewhere, like the berry cheesecake ice cream you’d ordered. This was just another form of self-care, right?

You can feel the blood rushing in your ears and a bead of sweat trickles down your back, and you make the decision to hop into the shower while you waited. Sighing, you push yourself to stop being the overthinker you’d always been. Whoever was in charge of it would just put it at the door and then leave. It was none of their business, right?

Jisung really wasn’t a judgemental person. He knew people went through so much in their lives, which is why he never questioned orders with enough food for twelve people, only for one person to show up at the door. Or when someone ordered just yogurt and Tide Pods. People tended to forget things. Or they wanted to enjoy things. And who was he to stop them?

But right now, he was conflicted. He’d thought nothing of the order he’d just gotten, clicking accept on his delivery app, but then he’d done a double take when he actually saw what he’d had to pick up. Chugging along to the store on his red bicycle, he heaves for breath, trying to calm the racing in his heart.

You had to be joking right? Maybe you’d clicked it by mistake. He was more than used to his fair share of strange requests, but delivering a vibrator to someone’s doorstep was a new one. For a second, he’d thought about calling to confirm that you’d actually meant to order it, along with a mountain of snacks, but pushed the thought away immediately. That would only make things more awkward.

He wondered what could have possessed you to do something so impulsive. But then a lightbulb went off in his head. People tended to make rash decisions when they were going through a tough time — like a breakup. And suddenly, it all made sense to Jisung.

And being the empathetic person he was, his heart twinged for your sadness. You must have been really lonely. He wondered who could have broken up with you to make you so upset - from what he saw from your snack choices, you already had impeccable taste and he liked you. So he’d make sure you got your things safely.

Pulling up to the store, Jisung parks his bike away safely, the bell above the door signaling his entrance. The store clerk takes one look at him in his snapback with the app’s logo on it, and can barely hold back a smirk. Jisung feels his cheeks heat up… this wasn’t even his stuff, why was he feeling self-conscious?

“I’m uh, here for, —” he chokes out, feeling his throat close up, unable to get the words out. “Yeah.”

“Here you go,” the store clerk pushes the bag his way, unable to hold back their laughter, and Jisung feels a flash of anger go through him. Yeah, it was odd, but there was no reason to be so judgemental about it. “I hope whoever it is enjoys themselves.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they do,” he blurts out, watching the clerk’s eyes widen before he realizes what he’d just said. “I-, I mean I’ll make sure they get it, you know?”

He decides it’s time to leave before he does something even more stupid, slapping his palm against his forehead while he rushes out. What was it about this specific time that had him so flustered?

Actually, he knows what it was. He’d taken one look at the pink vibrator nestled away in its packaging, and thoughts of what would happen to it after he’d left it at your door raced through him. Rubbing a hand at the back of his neck, he wipes away the sweat that collects at his nape, taking a few deep breaths before hopping back on his bike.

Looking at the map, your apartment was only a couple of blocks away. He had to get it together before then.

Shaking out your wet hair, you slip your oversized t-shirt on, pulling up your fluffy socks, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. That couldn’t be what you thought it was. You decide to wait a few minutes to see if they knock again, and sure enough, they do.

You huff, looking down at your app. You’re pretty sure you’d clicked “leave at front”. But whoever “Jisung” was, he clearly didn’t get the memo, knuckles continuing to rap at your door.

“Helloooo,” his voice calls out, laced with genuine concern. “Is anyone there?”

Filled with annoyance, you stomp over to the door, pulling it open, ready to give this guy a piece of your mind when—,

Oh. Oh.

Big, brown doe eyes look at you from the other end, glassy and filled with sparkles, and your mind immediately goes blank, forgetting what you were so upset about. You stay there, lips parted, taking in every detail of the handsome stranger currently at your door, from his longish hair that falls in his eyes underneath his snapback, to the black painted fingernails on his slender hands.

The two of you remained locked in a stare for a few moments, Jisung unable to take his eyes off you either, and that’s when it registers that you’re only wearing a t-shirt and socks. You have the urge to slam the door in his face and scream from embarrassment, but then you wouldn’t be able to see his pretty face.

Jisung lets out a strangled sound, somewhere in between choking and a cough, hitting his chest in order to get the words out.

“Hi, I’m here with your order,” his voice cracks when he presents the bag full of things, the pink vibrator lying right on top

Your lips remain parted in an “o”, unable to say anything, eyes flitting in between your order and the cute delivery boy at your door. Eventually, you realize you should do something. Just maybe. So he doesn’t think you’re weird.

“I, uh, thank you, uhm, Jisung was it?” you watch his eyes widen at your acknowledgement, a smile lighting up his face. And it has your heart doing backflips.

“No problem, I hope you enjoy it!” Jisung responds enthusiastically, his ears reddening when he realizes what he’d just said.

Time seems to stand still when you accept the bag, watching him zip up his backpack and put on his jacket, those black nails taunting you. For a moment you imagine what they’d feel like inside of —

“Do you wanna come inside?” The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, and Jisung freezes. You swear you hear him curse underneath his breath.

This was insane. Probably the most insane thing you’d done since breaking up with Minho. But he gave you butterflies in a way that no one had for a long time, and maybe, just maybe, this was a sign from the universe to take a risk. One more time.

“Jisung,” you repeat slowly, and he finally looks up at you, checking over his shoulder to see if you’re talking to him. “Do you want to come inside?”

He shrugs his jacket off, letting his backpack slip off until it’s hanging off one shoulder before he nods, unable to take his eyes off you standing on the other side of the threshold.

“I’d love to.”

Jisung feels like he’s going to pass out, wondering if he was having an out-of-body experience. Not only did he deliver his first sex toy today, but of course it had to be to one of the hottest girls he’d ever seen. None of it seemed real, as he followed you into your cosy apartment, filled with fairy lights and soft cushions.

A troublesome thought crosses his mind as he slips off his jacket and shoes, when he thinks back to how maybe you’d been going through a break-up. You inviting him in only served to strengthen that suspicion in his mind, but you’d been nothing but nice, just as shy and nervous at he’d felt. Whatever this was, Jisung was down for it, whether you just needed someone to talk to or — he thinks back to the pink vibrator.

Perhaps it was better not to get ahead of himself.

“Make yourself comfortable,” your soft voice echoes from the kitchen. He can hear you rustling around in there, putting away your things, and it makes him even more flustered. He looks around for anything to distract him from his racing mind, settling on a few photo frames of you and another guy, posing with three cats.

“I should probably take those down,” you surprise him again, coming up from behind and setting down some of the snacks you’d gotten and a few bottles of soju. “I haven’t really had anyone over here since the breakup.”

He was honestly shocked you were still on the rebound from your last relationship, given that you were — well you. If he’d known you then, heartbreak wouldn’t even have been a word in your vocabulary.

“It wasn’t horrible, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you reassure him, seeing a cute frown cross his face. “Minho was my first for a lot of things, but eventually you realize not everything is meant to last forever.”

“Is that why you, uh, you needed the things today?” Jisung chokes on sip of soju, hoping the sharp liquid can make him a little less awkward. From the way you fidget with your hair, he realizes it’s not helping at all on that front.

“Enough about me,” you take another swig, a bit of soju dribbling down your chin, and Jisung fights the urge to reach over and wipe it off. But then he’d be too close.

Jisung is a natural talker, opening up easily about himself and his life, from his own cute puppy to his friend group. Through the course of the conversation, he realizes that you’re older than him, but it doesn’t bother him. Something about the earnestness in your eyes makes him feel comfortable. It doesn’t help that you’re stunning under the dim lights, your damp skin shining and lips twisting into an adorable grin while you listen to him talk.

He wonders if he’s being a bit too forward, unable to keep his eyes off them while he goes on, but if you notice, you don’t say anything.

Half an hour later, and the distance between the two of you on the couch is completely non-existent, your thighs pressed up against Jisung’s while you giggle at his Doraemon impression.

He knows he’s probably a little tipsy, both of you are, but that doesn’t stop shock from registering when you pick up his hands, intertwining your fingers to marvel at his nail polish.

You bring them close to you, and even though he’s not touching you, he can swear he feels the thud of your heartbeat underneath your shirt.

“Do you like them?” his voice is gravelly as he asks the question, the soju making him feel like he’s floating.

“I do,” you stutter out. “They look really fucking good, I want them to, I-I mean I want some like them, shit–”

Another giggle bubbles from your lips and Jisung thinks he’s going to lose his mind, watching your eyes grow heavy-lidded, still clutching his hands in yours. The two of you are impossibly close now, any more and you’d be on top of him, but maybe he wants that. Maybe you want it too.

You squeak when he pulls you on top of him, the haze clearing momentarily when he feels your legs straddle him, clutching onto his shirt to avoid falling over completely. Jisung grips your thighs to hold you steady, and your stomach swims at his proximity. Looking into your eyes, he sees your pupils go dark, your throat bobbing while the two of you remain frozen, contemplating your next move.

He watches you suck in a breath, breaking eye contact to look over at the photo frames on your shelf, sadness flashing in your eyes. It stirs something within him, and he stops you midway, cupping your chin in his hands and tilting your head back towards him.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice is lower than he’s ever heard it, desire seeping into every crevice, and he sees you give a little nod before you’re leaning in, crashing your lips onto his.

Jisung stifles a groan, melting into the kiss, your soft, slightly chapped lips adding to the fire that fuels in between you. A whine escapes the back of your throat, your nails raking through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him into you. He traces the inside of your mouth, pressing you down onto his thighs, shocked to find wetness leaking onto his jeans.

You pull away with a flush, realization dawning on your face. Chewing your lower lip, you give him an apologetic look.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I forgot I wasn’t wearing anything underneath…”

Jisung pulls you back into him, nipping at your bottom lip, before he’s pulling away again, his warm breath fanning into your neck.

“You don’t have to apologize baby,” he voice makes you shiver. “I came here for you after all.”

The two of you stumble back into your bedroom, lips clashing desperately, and you tug at the hem of Jisung’s shirt. He breaks away from your lips to allow you a small bit of focus, but it’s gone in seconds when he eyes your neck, pressing small kisses along its length, pausing to graze his teeth in a few spots.

You flutter your eyelashes against Jisung’s temple, finally grabbing hold of his shirt and slipping it over his head. You pause, taking him in, running your knuckles along his sides, and he shivers.

Jisung doesn’t even wait for you to finish undressing him, pushing you back onto your bed softly, watching the way your oversized t-shirt hikes up, exposing more and more of your body to him.

You feel your stomach fall into knots at the appreciative look in his eyes. It’d been so long since someone had looked at you like that, and you feel like you could explode from that alone. You cling onto his biceps, giving them a squeeze, and he moves quickly, pulling you flush against him so he can grab your shirt and tear it off.

Shoving you against him, he mouths at your jaw, tugging your hair so you arch up into him, grinding against the rough denim of his jeans. You collapse into a series of moans and sighs, rutting against him while Jisung continues to work you over, moving down to your neck, before he thumbs at your breasts.

The first swipe of his thumb against your nipple has you keening, throbbing with need until —

Jisung pins you in place, lifting his body slightly so you’re no longer touching. He toys with your nipple experimentally, giving it a squeeze, and you nearly sob at the contact, wanting to feel him again.

“Had to cut it off or I wouldn’t last,” he rumbles into your ear, stroking the soft skin of your stomach before he dips down in between your thighs, stroking exactly where you need him.

Jisung’s eyes widen in surprise at exactly how wet you seem to be, curiously swiping up and down before he plunges a finger in.

“Jisung, please, god, I—” you’re unable to get the words out, tugging at his hair while he fucks you open, your clit throbbing. Your hands roaming underneath the waistband of his pants, pushing at them uselessly, before Jisung pauses. You watch your arousal coat his fingers while he works the button open, finally pulling them off.

Closing your eyes, you ready to finally feel him, but like everything else today, Jisung is full of surprises, kneeling until he’s face first with you, exposed and open for him. The first press of his tongue against you has you bucking up into him, and you feel him smirk, his other hand reaching to press on your neck.

Your eyes flutter, your entire focus narrowing to where Jisung sucks on your clit, and then you’re breaking, nearly flying off the sheets as your thighs clamp around his head, both of you unable to contain your moans.

Jisung looks down at you, his lips swollen and messy with you on them, and you watch him study you, flushed and fucked out underneath him.

“Hey,” he says softly, brushing away the hair that’s fallen on your face. “You okay still?”

“Better than okay,” you mumble through your lips, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. It’s too soft a gesture for what this was supposed to be, but Jisung melts into it anyway, reveling in the quiet moment.

“Keep going please?” you breathe into his neck. There’s barely a moment to think before Jisung’s hands are on your ass again, pushing you up into him so he can line himself up with your entrance. Without warning, he slides in, bottoming out harshly, and you dig your nails into his back.

You open up wider, letting him grab your leg and rest it on his shoulder, and his arm braces itself around your waist, lifting you up so he can find your lips again, tongue catching all the sounds that fall out of you.

His hands roam all over you, like he can’t get enough of your body. Jisung’s sweat soaked bangs are messy as he throws his head back, thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier, and you know he’s close.

“Fuck,” he groans, rubbing tight circles on your clit, until you feel yourself snap, gushing around him. “Where can I–”

Your hand rests on his jaw, rubbing small circles into it, and you’re pushing him back, watching his eyes widen in shock as you lower, taking him in between your lips. Jisung makes a strangled noise when he feels himself hit the back of your throat, twitching once before spilling into you.

The two of you fall into each other, heavy breaths mingling, and Jisung buries his head into the crook of your neck. You feel him smile against you, and your own soft smile lights up your face, the both of you falling asleep holding each other.

It must be the middle of the night before you muster up the energy to move, cleaning yourself off and changing into a comfy shirt and sweatpants. Behind you, Jisung is still dozing off, his face even softer in sleep than it was awake, and you stroke his cheek.

Feeling bad, you slip out, deciding to make him a cup of coffee. There’s a pang in your heart when you realize that he has to leave after this, that the two of you made no promises to each other. Every muscle in your body is aching as you hunch over the boiling coffee pot, begging you to ask him to stay.

From the corner of your eye, you spot the pink vibrator sitting on the counter, still in its packaging, and you chuckle, realizing you’d never got a chance to put it away.

“I hope you’re not thinking of using that without me,” you jump in shock at Jisung’s voice, turning around to see him grinning at you, hair mussed and clothes rumpled.

“Oh god, Jisung, I’m so sorry, your job, I didn’t even realize,” panic sets in as you try to make an excuse, guilt filling your chest for dragging him into your heartbreak.

“___,” he comes up to you, wrapping you in a hug from behind, his head resting on your shoulder. “Believe me, I wouldn’t have stayed unless I wanted to. And I wanted to.”

“Really?” you breathe out, unable to believe he’s actually saying this. “Why?”

You can’t stop your voice from cracking, the doubt creeping in again when you thought about how things had been good with Minho, and yet they hadn’t lasted, believing that someway, somehow, it was your fault. That you hadn’t been enough.

Jisung chuckles into your neck, pressing a kiss onto your cheek.

“You’re so cute. I wanna be here for you, in whatever way you need. If that wasn’t evidence enough, I’m kinda into you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

You feel your heart explode at his self-assuredness, finding comfort in his presence. When the morning came you knew he’d have to go, but maybe, just maybe, you’d let yourself be needy again. Especially when it worked out so well the last time.

a/n pt. 2: As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

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stevesbestgirl · 9 months

Text

Phases of the Moon - Part 6

Steven Grant x f!Reader, eventual Marc Spector x f!Reader

5684 words

Warnings: chances of swears, FLUFF, lots of silly flirting, my shitty interpretation of French poetry, AND a lot of shitty jokes, so you’re in luck, allusions to a toxic past relationship but nothing specific, like 1.2 seconds of protective Steven

A/N: This will likely be something of a midseason finale, as I still need to finish fleshing out the arc of the second half because I start therapy next week and anticipate being kind of a mess Marc complicates things. I respectfully request that y’all not send asks about when the next update will be (although I’m eternally grateful for your enthusiasm ❤)

As always, keep in mind that I am not a system and am not an expert. All of my information about their relationship comes from the Moon Knight show and I use that as my reference point.

*Bold type is spoken by Marc when Steven is fronting.*

Masterlist

You walked back to the bus stop both a bit quieter than you’d been the rest of the day. Steven wished he’d cleaned up his flat a bit; he really hadn’t planned to invite you back. It certainly wasn’t the temptation he needed. But he wanted to give you your gifts- he wanted to give you anything you wanted. If he was being honest, he didn’t want you to go yet either. He hadn’t had enough of the way you held his arm, your fingers trailing down until they slipped in between his.

When you boarded the bus, Steven sat down beside you and you slid just a bit closer. He wasn’t sure if you’d done it consciously or not, but the fact that you wanted to be closer to him made his pulse quicken. The quick burst of confidence urged him to wrap his arm around your shoulders.

As he did, he couldn’t help but ask, “Is that alright?” He just couldn’t seem to picture himself not being nervous around you.

You smiled, “It’s nice.”

“Are you alright?” Your responses had been a bit short since leaving the restaurant.

You nodded, “Might be a little tired. I think the cake did me in.” You chuckled softly and then Steven noted the slight delay in your speech now. He supposed he had sort of dragged you all over the place today.

He couldn’t help but glance at your shoes, “Are your feet alright? We did a bit of walking today, didn’t we?”

You leaned into him, “I’m alright, Steven.”

“You could invite her to stay,” Marc suggested.

“I bloody well can not!”

“Yes, you can. I bet she’d say yes.”

“Tomorrow is your day to front- or have you forgotten?”

“If you invite her, you can have it.”

Steven glanced at you, tucked under his arm, looking content, before meeting Marc’s stare in the bus window, “Do not do this to me, Marc. I mean it.” He didn’t want Marc’s day to front and he certainly hadn’t thought Marc would call his bluff.

“Stop being so dramatic-”

“Alright, for the sake of honesty, my feet do hurt a little, but not more than your average day out and it was definitely worth it, so no feeling bad, alright?”

“Hm?” It took Steven a moment to catch up.

“Are you alright, Steven?”

You smiled weakly, “I think I might be a bit tired myself.”

“Guess we better get you home then. Which stop is it again?”

He glanced up at the display at the head of the bus, reading off the next stop before cursing softly, “The last one.” He hastily grabbed the rope to request a stop and you followed him to the front of the bus as it squeaked to a halt. You said a quick thank you to the bus driver, climbing down after Steven onto the curb.

“Well, we’ve only overshot by about a block, but I’m so-”

You leaned into him, “It’s alright, no big deal. I wanted more time with you anyway, right?” You stepped back, “So which way is it then?”

Steven’s apology fizzled, a faint smile taking its place on his lips, “That way.”

“Must be something interesting in that head of yours,” you prompted. Maybe a little more teasing was alright.

He chuckled, “You’ve no idea, love.”

“Maybe someday you can share with me.” He knew you were teasing him again; it was getting easier for him to tell. But he wanted to tell you.

Marc’s stony face appeared in the glass of a passing storefront, “Do not tell her.”

“Now who’s being dramatic?”

“Steven, I’m not joking. You will scare her away.” If Steven didn’t know better, he’d say Marc sounded a little afraid.

“Alright, alright, don’t have a fit- I wasn’t going to.”

“Which number are you? We haven’t passed it, have we?”

“Actually, it was back there,” Steven gestured over his shoulder.

“Wait, really?”

“No, I’m only joking,” he laughed. “It’s this one here.” He gestured to a large, rather old-looking building, indistinguishable from the others surrounding it. Inside was a bit dingy, but it wasn’t far off from the apartment Dalton lived in. It was sort of industrial, with exposed supports and lots of tarnished brassy colors that looked like they could use some dusting and a bit of oil.

Steven appeared to be getting more and more nervous as you rode the lift, which was sketchy in its own rite. While it rattled and whirred, he glanced at you, “Sorry it’s not much to look at.”

“Steven, you don’t need to apologize for your apartment building.” You squeezed his hand.

“Well, I’m apologizing for my apartment too, I suppose, aren’t I? I’d have tidied up, but I wasn’t expecting to have you visit so soon-”

“It’s not too late for me to go home,” you suggested. “I don’t know if I want to see your place if it isn’t clean.”

He froze, a long second preceding a nervous smile, “You’re teasing me again.”

You grinned, “You’re catching on.” You stood on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, “Your apartment isn’t going to scare me away, so stop worrying.”

Steven cursed the way your lips on his cheek made him want to kiss you again; he was getting a bit greedy about that. And despite your insistence that he not worry, he almost dropped his keys before he could unlock the door, fumbling at getting the key in the lock.

Throwing the door open, he gestured for you to go ahead of him, still nervous to see your reaction. You stepped inside, eyes wide with curiosity. It appeared to be all one room, although a sprawling one. You caught a glimpse of a bed on the far end of the room, obscured by some of the many bookshelves. The kitchen was to your right, the counters and kitchen table one of the clear spaces. The door to the bathroom stood ajar to your left. Directly ahead was a large fish tank, with two goldfish drifting around inside.

The floors were wood, the furniture appeared to be very worn or maybe second hand, but cozy. The defining feature was the books stacked up on about eighty-five percent of the room’s surfaces. The air was thick with the scent of old books and Steven, which was a dangerous cocktail for someone who’d had two glasses of wine with dinner.

“As I said, it’s a bit of a mess,” Steven explained as he closed the door. “I’ve been working on getting organized and cleaning up a bit, but it’s-”

“It’s lovely, Steven.” You smiled at him and moved over to a stack of books on an end table, perusing the titles on the spines. “I wasn’t sure what to expect from the rest of the building, but this is quite nice. The wood floors, the big windows, the open floor plan- it’s all kind of elegant, I think. And I love all of the books, although I feel a bit bad for the ones not on shelves- I’d hate to knock them down.”

“That’s what’s been taking so long is getting cleaned up, actually,” he moved up behind you, plucking a book from a pile. “I’ve got to sort through them all and decide which ones to keep and which to donate, which takes me a while, to be honest because I’m quite attached to them. But as it is, I can’t really get the ones on the bottom of the piles, so it’s-”

“An ineffective system,” you finished for him, making him blush. “You know, I can be pretty organized. I wouldn’t mind helping you get cleaned up, if you ever need an extra hand.”

He gave a weak chuckle, “Can’t have you cleaning up my mess for me, can I?”

“Why’s that?” You moved in close, gazing up at him, “I want to treat you the way you deserve too, remember? I really don’t mind.”

Steven was having a hard time thinking. You were in his apartment and you were so close to him; he hadn’t imagined he would end up in this situation today, or maybe ever. So when you batted your eyelashes at him, he crumpled, “Right- sure, that would be nice.”

You smiled, glancing back at the stack of books, “So, are all of these books about Egypt?”

“Most of them,” he smiled sheepishly. “There’s some others sprinkled in; Greek and Norse mythology mostly.” You flitted off to examine some of the shelves and Steven took a steadying breath.

“I’m more of a fiction reader myself, but mythology was one of my favorites topics in school. So I guess it’s no wonder I liked your tour so much.”

“What are you interested in then?” He suddenly felt like you knew so much about him and he hadn’t asked you nearly enough about yourself.

“Nerd stuff, mostly. Fantasy, sci-fi, adventure- that kind of thing. Some romance too, but don’t tell anyone.” At that, you glanced over your shoulder to smile at him, like you were confiding a secret.

“Your secret is safe with me.” And at the mention of romance, he remembered why he’d brought you back here in the first place. “Speaking of-” he headed for the kitchen, taking an arrangement of lovely, red flowers and a box of chocolates from the counter before he shuffled up to you, looking a bit sheepish, “This might’ve been more effective if I hadn’t been such a coward about it.”

“Steven, you didn’t have to get me anything. And honestly, I think it was pretty effective this way. I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Well, yes, but that wasn’t part of the plan, you know,” he admitted.

You cupped his chin, “Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. You’re doing wonderfully. This is, with no contest, the best date I’ve ever been on.” Steven flushed under your touch, but you weren’t finished, “In fact, I would really like to kiss you again, if that’s alright.”

He nodded, though the way his eyes lit up was all the confirmation you needed. You tugged his chin down to meet his lips with yours, the flower paper crinkling between you. You kept it light, breaking away after a few seconds to murmur, “Are you remembering to breathe?”

He chuckled, “Yes, so far. But I think you only need to worry if I start turning blue.”

Your lips quirked up in a slight smile, “What should I do then?" Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?” He grinned, battling the laugh before his forehead touched yours as he pulled his head down, like he was trying to hide it. Your smile grew, “Is that what does it for you? Cheesy jokes?”

Steven grinned guiltily, “Sorry if that’s a dealbreaker.” He set the gifts on the table, clasping his hands behind his back, “Have I ruined the mood then?”

“I think your laugh is very cute, actually.”

His gaze flicked to your lips, “That’s good news then because I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news, love.”

You picked up on his tone, playing along, “What is it?”

“I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe.”

You were already tipping your chin up, your lips seeking his while your arms snaked around his neck. Steven wrapped his arms around your waist, slowly and deliberately, the heat of your skin warming his palms. His hands wanted to stray, but he wasn’t about to grope you on your first date- or second date- whatever it was.

But then his grip tightened just a little bit, making a soft moan slip out from between your lips. Steven’s eyes snapped open, his lips parting from yours in a hurry, “Are you alright? Have I hurt you?”

Heat flooded your already warm face, “No- definitely not.” You broke eye contact, “I liked it.” It had been a while since you’d been touched like that; longer still since it was by someone you wanted to touch you.

“Oh,” Steven breathed a sigh of relief. Then he registered your body language, “Oh. Oh, I get it.” Now it was his turn to blush; he hadn’t imagined he’d have that kind of an effect on you. “I’ll be sure to make a note of that.”

You offered a shy half-smile. You knew you shouldn’t be embarrassed- certainly not with Steven, but you’d forgotten how vulnerable it could be to get this close to someone. You were at least sure that Steven didn’t realize the power he had over you, not yet anyway.

“I suppose I should probably get home; don’t want to keep you too late,” you offered. You had monopolized quite a bit of Steven’s day now that you thought about it; this date was only supposed to be lunch.

So you were a little surprised when he managed to look disappointed, glancing out the windows at the dark sky, “You aren’t keeping me- well, a bit- but in a good way, you know. You can keep me as long as you like.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Yeah?”

He chuckled, looking surprisingly unflustered, “Not what I meant to say, but I do stand by that.”

You moved just a bit closer, “As long as I like?”

He smiled, eyes going soft. There was a long pause, he seemed to be gathering courage until he spoke,

“Douze fois l'heure a frappé l'air. Et près de toi je suis encore assise; Et, loin de pressentir le moment du sommeil. Je croyais voir encore un rayon de soleil.”

His eyes never left yours while he recited the poem; when he finished, you realized you had forgotten to breathe.

You spoke softly, “What does that mean?”

He took one of your hands in his again, brushing his thumb over your skin, “It means that I’ve spent a great deal of time with you today and I know the day is ending, but it doesn’t quite feel that way.”

“What does it feel like then?” You hoped your voice didn’t sound hoarse; it made you unexpectedly emotional to have French poetry recited to you. There had to be people more deserving of something so special, but here you were with Steven and somehow he felt that way about you.

“It feels like we’re just starting. And even when today ends, I hope my time with you doesn’t end with it.”

“Steven-” But words didn’t seem to capture what you wanted to say and you didn’t have any French poetry handy, so you hugged him again, burying your face in the crook of his neck to hide the way your eyes were glossing over.

And by now, Steven no longer felt strange holding someone in his arms. It was beginning to feel like you belonged there.

Neither of you said anything for a long several seconds. When you finally broke the silence, your voice was thick, “Steven, I really quite adore you, I hope you realize that.” You chuckled into his shoulder, “Sorry I don’t have any poems memorized.”

He gripped your shoulders, leaning back so he could see your face, “Are you crying?” Worry etched itself into his expression, his lips pulling down into a frown.

You blinked, trying to keep the tears back, “No.”

“Have I said something wrong?” he asked, gaze locked on yours.

“No,” you shook your head, the motion making your eyes spill over. You hastily reached for your face, but Steven gently caught your wrist, eyes pleading with you to confide in him. “You’ve said everything right, actually."

"Then what's the matter?” He wanted to wipe your face dry himself, but he was worried you’d push him away; it was unlike you to be withholding.

You wrestled with your answer and Steven caught a glimpse of an expression he knew well. He’d seen it many times on his own face, even when he wasn’t the one feeling it; self-doubt.

Steven cupped your face, brushing the stray tears away with his thumbs, “Love, you deserve the whole world. I’d wager some absolute twit did something stupid to make you believe otherwise?”

Steven watched the faint flicker of pain cross your expression at whatever memory had been conjured up, “Whoever he was, he was a right prat for letting you go.” His expression darkened in a way you hadn’t seen before, “He best hope I never cross his path if he made you feel this way.”

You would never have expected Steven to be the type to make threats, but as he said it, you believed him. Steven acted like a softy- and he was, mostly. But he was also full of passion, far beyond just enthusiasm for Egypt.

“Steven?”

“Yes, darling?” The shadow in his eyes dissipated and the soft Steven you knew was back, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“Kiss me again?”

He leaned in slightly, pausing, “You’ll talk to me about this someday, yeah?”

You nodded, blinking at the tears still clinging to your lashes, “Yes.”

Then his lips were on yours; still a bit hesitant, but already improving. You knew you were maybe going a bit fast for him, your lips frantic on his, but you couldn’t get enough. There might never be enough of this sweet, wonderful man to satiate your need for him.

You slid your hands up his chest until they skimmed over his collarbones, brushing up the sides of his neck. Dragging your nails over the back of his neck, you nipped his lower lip, surprised when Steven moaned, a sharp sound he quickly tried to tamp down, but it was too late.

You broke your lips from his, pressing your forehead to his, “Sorry.”

Steven was a bit short of breath, but he shook his head, “Don’t be.”

You offered him a small smile, “Makes me feel a bit better, to be honest.”

“Happy to help any way that I can,” he half-joked.

“You have.”

He dropped his hands to hold yours, “Can I confess something?”

You smiled, hoping to lighten things up again, “Like a murder?”

“Less dramatic and more embarrassing, I’m afraid.” Steven was just glad to see your smile; he didn’t ever want to see you cry again.

“Spill the tea,” you chuckled.

He gave his head a half shake, “Why would I spill tea?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “It’s just slang; it just means to tell me the gossip. The better the gossip, the hotter the tea.”

“Bit silly, isn’t it? Why would anyone purposely spill hot tea?”

You bit your lip to stifle the smile at Steven’s indignation, “Sorry to upset your British sensitivities.”

“It’s dangerous, if you think about it-”

“Steven?” He paused his dissection of the expression, “You were confessing to murder, I believe.”

He gave an embarrassed smile, “Right.” Cheeks going rosy, he added, “Although if my girlfriend is going to intentionally spill tea-”

You blurted it out before you could think better of it, “Am I your girlfriend?”

“Oh-” His expression fell, “-bugger. I was going to do something special to ask you, but I’ve kept thinking about it today and I suppose I got a bit excited. And that’s if you even wanted to be-”

“I do want to be,” you offered, trying to head off the insecurity he was working himself up to. “But, I will politely decline your request to be your girlfriend today.” You hoped he understood what you were trying to do.

“You will?” You’d never heard someone so excited to be turned down before.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his tone, “I will. We’re just sort of seeing each other, isn’t that right?”

He nodded seriously, “Very casual.”

“No big deal.”

“Not even a deal, really. Sort of an agreement.”

“An understanding,” you offered with a stoic nod.

“Precisely.”

You stared at each other for a moment before you burst out into laughter. You were tearing up again, but this time your sides were starting to hurt from laughing so much. The sound of Steven’s laughter made your chest feel warm, that long forgotten feeling of butterflies suddenly returning.

As your laughter faded, you couldn’t rid yourself of the smile on your face. Now that you thought about it, you couldn’t remember a day when you’d smiled this much.

“So, what was that confession?” you finally asked, once you were both relatively composed.

Steven’s already pink cheeks darkened at the reminder, “Yes- that. I, ah- I don’t think I want you to leave.” He rushed to follow up, “I mean, it’s late. I’d feel awful if I didn’t make sure you got home safely and I’m sure your feet could use a bit of a break-”

“Are you inviting me to stay?” You definitely weren’t expecting that.

He flinched, almost like he’d hoped the words would fade before you heard them, “Only if you want to, of course. You would take my bed, obviously, I can take the sofa-”

“Steven, I’m not taking your bed,” you gave him an exasperated look.

“I can’t let you take the sofa.” The disdain in his tone was enough for you to bury that idea.

“Then stay with me. In your bed.”

“I can’t- that would be- I just-” he had so many protests, he couldn’t seem to land on which one to use first.

“Steven, I’m not suggesting we have sex, just to be clear.”

The red tinge was creeping down his neck now, “Well, that’s a relief at least, but still-”

Normally you would be offended if someone looked so relieved not to sleep with you, but you knew Steven’s heart was in the right place. You rubbed his arm reassuringly, conceding, “I can take a cab home.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Steven explained, looking pained. “You’re entirely gorgeous and I-”

"Steven, it’s alright. We’ve had a great day, or at least I have, and I really don’t want to push you into doing something you don’t want to, but I also don’t want to put you out.” You lifted your shoulders in an easy shrug, “I should’ve left already, actually, but it turns out I’m awful at saying goodbye to you.”

“Because she wants to stay,” Marc offered from his reflection in the window. “Don’t let her leave, Steven.”

“I can’t exactly force her to stay, can I?”

“You wouldn’t have to if you’d stop being-”

“Would you mind walking me out then?” You unknowingly interrupted Marc, grabbing Steven’s hand and giving it a soft tug toward the front door.

Steven didn’t move, the internal battle transparently raging behind his eyes. You felt a bit bad; you were being kind of difficult. But you knew you wouldn’t get any sleep knowing Steven was in the next room over when he could be with you.

You released his hand, pulling your phone out instead, “Actually, I’m going to call the cab now, I’ll be right back.” Steven watched you move off into the living room, feeling a bit frustrated.

“Are you really just gonna let her go?”

“I can’t do it, Marc. I can’t share a bed with her.”

"Fine."

"Cab will be about ten minutes or so," you reported, coming back over. Seeing Steven still looking stressed, you put your hand on his shoulder, "Steven, it's really alright."

Guilt washed over his face, “I hope I haven’t hurt your feelings because I really do want to- I want to be close to you that way- quite badly, actually, but I’m a bit nervous-”

You stopped him before he could spiral too much, offering a reassuring smile, “My feelings are just fine. I understand.”

“You do?”

“I do. I don’t want to rush things between us; we can go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.” He visibly relaxed at that, shoulders slackening as he lowered his hands from their holding place at his ribcage. “That said, I can admit that I’m very excited to get close like that.”

You stepped closer, sliding your hands around his waist, “I’ll be looking forward to sleeping in and cuddling up in bed and holding each other and stealing little kisses and-”

“Is it too late to change my answer?” he gave a weak chuckle, hoping you wouldn’t be able to hear how dry his throat had gone.

You stole a quick kiss, his lips chasing yours a bit as you moved back, “Next time.”

His hands found your hips, “Next time could be right now, couldn’t it?”

You tilted your head, “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“We’ve been on two dates today, haven’t we? What’s one more?”

You laughed, “Alright, I respect that you’ve used my logic against me, but I already called the cab. I’ll see you again soon.”

“How about tomorrow evening?” He knew he sounded clingy, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind. “I’m off at seven.”

And you knew you should probably take some time to cool off; you were feeling a bit infatuated right now. But you nodded, “I’d like that.”

“I could make you dinner,” he offered.

You raised an eyebrow, “I thought you said you didn’t like to cook.”

“I don't mind it, but I’m probably a bit rusty,” he admitted.

“I could help you.”

He chuckled, “As much as I want to refuse, that’s probably for the best.”

"Meet you here at eight then?"

Beaming, he nodded, "It's a date."

You returned his smile, but before you could reply, there was a ping from your phone, "Looks like my ride is here."

"I'll walk you down then. Oh, and don't forget your things." He hastily grabbed the flowers and chocolates from the table, keeping them clutched in one hand while the other went to the small of your back. He seemed to just want to have a hand on you the whole way out of his apartment, holding your hand in the elevator too. The only time he broke contact was when he rushed ahead to get the front door, following you out to the curb where your taxi was waiting.

He opened the car door and gently put your gifts on the backseat, asking the driver for a quick moment. He buried his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels, “Suppose I’ll see you tomorrow then, yeah?”

You nodded, surprised by the sudden bit of awkwardness between the two of you; things had come so easily up until now, “Tomorrow.” You realized you were still wearing his jacket and you moved to take it off, “Here, I should give this back-”

“No- you might need it on the way home. You can keep it,” he quickly unburied his hands to still yours.

“Steven, you’ve worn this almost every time I’ve seen you. I don’t want to take your favorite jacket.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Looks better on you anyway, don’t it? Besides, makes sense my favorite jacket and my favorite-” He seemed to catch himself, his face going pink even under the faint light of the streetlamps.

You didn’t tease him; you were feeling a bit flushed as well. Not wanting to keep the cabbie waiting, you leaned in, kissing Steven’s cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Right, tomorrow. Let me know once you’ve gotten home then?”

You smiled, “I will.” You climbed into the cab, “Good night, Steven.”

He offered a wry smile, “Good night, dearest.” He somewhat reluctantly closed the door, remaining on the curb until the car pulled away. He was sad to see you go, almost wishing he’d listened to Marc, but he couldn’t help a smile as you turned back, waving out the cab’s rear window.

Marc’s voice echoing in his head surprised him, “You are so screwed.”

Steven watched the cab round a corner, finally disappearing, his voice a bit dreamy, “Yeah, I suppose I am, aren’t I?”

True to your word, you sent Steven a text when you arrived safely at home. You did have to endure a bit of teasing from Dalton when you asked for a vase for your flowers, but they looked nice on your bedside table. And they made you think of Steven, though not so much as the jacket, which you were embarrassingly tempted to sleep in. You stubbornly put the jacket on a hanger, mounting it on the closet door instead of inside.

You couldn’t believe you’d almost slept over on the first date- thank god Dalton didn’t know that part. The bit of distance between the two of you didn’t make your head much clearer either; you still wished Steven had just agreed- then you’d probably be cuddled up with him right now. But then he wouldn’t be the Steven you liked so much- your Steven, as you were coming to think of him.

Every reason you’d come here seemed to fade into the background in comparison to the way you’d felt today. None of those things seemed to matter. They were all just background, the build-up to the part of your life that could be starting right now. You knew you were lovestruck, that much was obvious. But aside from that, this felt like something.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand while you brushed your teeth and your heart leapt. You’d sent a simple, “Made it home safe. Thank you for today.”

Steven had replied, “Glad to hear it. I should be thanking you- sorry it had to end.”

You smiled, “You’d best not be beating yourself up. This was the right call. It was perfect.” You finished brushing your teeth and climbed into bed, phone still in your hand.

Steven hesitated before sending his next reply, “Still, think I’ll be up missing you tonight.”

“Don’t lose too much sleep- can’t have the museum’s newest tour guide showing up late, can we?” You sent a quick follow up, “Feel free to think about me tomorrow though.” You set your phone on the bedside table, gaze flicking up to Steven’s jacket. Was this really all the willpower you were capable of?

When Steven’s reply came through, you were just climbing back into bed, his jacket wrapped around you. “You say that like I’ve got a choice.” Well, at least it seemed like you were both equally as spineless when it came to the other.

“Do your best to get some sleep, for me.” You bit your lip, considering before snapping a quick picture of yourself. You wondered if he’d notice the collar of his jacket poking out from under the blanket.

“Oh my days, she’s wearin’ my jacket to bed.” Steven was dumbstruck, staring at the photo you’d sent to him.

“Nicely done,” Marc nodded approvingly.

Steven gave a dreamy sigh, “Would you look at her? She’s so stunning.” He couldn’t help but add again, “And wearing my clothes.”

Marc wanted to point out that you could be here, right now, if Steven hadn’t chickened out. But that would also mean that Marc would've had to remain in the background. He wouldn’t admit it to Steven, but today had been difficult. It had been a while since Marc had to be so quiet in the back of Steven’s mind.

If Steven noticed Marc’s long silence, he didn’t draw attention to it. “Is it alright if I make this the background on our phone?”

Marc wouldn’t miss the photo of the fish tank that currently graced their phone screen, but he felt strange about using a phone with your face on it. You weren’t his, you were Steven’s. It felt like an invasion of privacy- like he was trespassing in your relationship.

“Marc? That alright with you?”

“It’s fine- sorry,” he offered hastily.

Satisfied, Steven confirmed his changes, grinning as he returned to his home screen to find your face there. Marc thought he was off the hook, but Steven looked for Marc’s face in the fish tank, “You alright then? Sorry it was such a long day, but I’ll make it up to you- and tomorrow night too-”

“I’m fine, Steven,” Marc reassured him. “I’m happy for you.”

Steven paused, “You could be happy for you too.” He rushed to say the rest, “I think if we told her the truth, she would-”

“No. No, no, no,” Marc shook his head. “That is not happening.”

Steven’s face fell, “It’s got to eventually, don’t it? We don’t want to repeat the same mistakes.” Steven didn’t have to specify which mistakes; he meant Layla.

“Eventually nothing. We can cross whatever bridges when we come to them.” He didn’t want to ruin Steven’s good day, but he was not ready for this conversation.

“I don’t want to build a relationship on a lie, Marc. And I think she’d love you too.”

“Love me too? You don’t even know if she loves you yet- it’s been one day, Steven.”

“Well I know that,” Steven huffed. “But don’t you feel it?”

Marc unhappily played along, “Feel what?”

“That bit of…rightness in your chest,” Steven fumbled for the right words. “Like she fits perfectly, right here.” He clasped his hand into a fist over his heart, holding it in place with the other.

“Steven, she’s your girlfriend. I don’t feel anything.”

“Well, she’s not my girlfriend yet- I’m going to ask her proper.”

“Well if you never text her back, she might say no.”

“Bloody hell, you’re right- I’ve forgotten to reply- I hope she hasn’t already fallen asleep, although she does need the rest-”

Marc stopped listening, grateful to have Steven distracted, at least for now. But he kind of missed the way things were before- just him and Steven. Everything was changing again and just once, he’d halfway hoped they could stay the same for a while. But you were here now and it was clear there was no going back.

Phone still in your hand, the faint buzz of Steven’s reply wasn’t enough to wake you. You would see his “Good night, love. Sleep well and see you tomorrow,” in the morning.

#steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant fluff #moon knight fluff #steven grant fic #moon knight fic #phases of the moon series

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lightning-writes · 4 months

Text

good heart (faulty machine of a man) - 18/30

fic summary: bucky meets someone at therapy

chapter summary: bucky changes (alternate: bucky gets a haircut)

word count: 1160

tags: fluff, post endgame, pre tfatws, slow burn, canon divergent, canon compliant, au

warnings: none

a/n: a lil fluffy peek into bucky's day (no rue this chapter, but NEXT chapter, only rue)

AO3 MASTERLIST X

“I’m going on vacation for the rest of the month,” Raynor had announced during their last session. “And I think, to kill two birds with one stone, you should try a support group again.”

“What two birds?” he’d asked.

“Therapy and company,” she’d explained easily. Like she’d known he’d have something to say about it. “Support for the holidays while I’m away, and company because I don’t think you should be alone going into the new year.”

(She’d given him space to object. He knew what she was looking for - a confession. Before the session, she’d witnessed him and Rue laughing, more than amicably, and while she didn’t ask about it, he knew she wanted to.)

“Fine.” He’d crossed his arms and given her a pointed look. Daring her to ask. “But I’m not going to a grief group.”

Now, he’s almost gotten through an entire session in a veteran’s group. While some of the stories were meaningful to him, the current climate of the war and the front lines were just removed enough that it didn’t trigger him. Even when the older veterans, the ones who might have seen the tail-end of his war, share their nightmares and losses, Bucky can endure it.

(And it feels like a goddamn Christmas miracle.)

A woman approaches him after the session, extending a business card. “Uh, hi.” She’s probably a little older than Rue, maybe Raynor’s age. He recognizes her as one of the people who had shared. “I’m Ana.”

He doesn’t even look at the card; he’s studying her. “Bucky,” he offers.

“I…” She lapses into a nervous laugh. “I know this is weird, but I noticed you messing with your hair a lot while I was up there… and I cut hair, so…”

“It’s that bad, huh?” His tone is flat, but she laughs, more confidently now, and he runs a hand through his hair again. He starts to feel self-conscious, but it doesn’t go far. “I honestly haven’t cut it since…”

(He doesn’t say since he’s been the Winter Soldier - it’s not like Hydra had cared about his appearance - but she fills in the blanks with whatever makes sense to her.)

“A lot of veterans don’t… keep up with their appearances,” she says gently. “I mean, I’m sure it took a long time for you to regrow your buzzcut.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he says, “I kinda like the long hair.”

“It suits you.”

(For once, a woman is not giving him flirty eyes. They are kind but not motherly. She sees him as a person and not an object. She understands.)

“Look, I just started working at a new salon,” she interrupts his thoughts, “and I’m building my clientele. I’m actually on my way over to work now, if you want to be my first client of the day?”

////

Ana had tried to wash his hair, but as he lowered himself to the lip of the sink, he felt anxiety scrape up his chest. Flashes of the Hydra Lab, the excruciating pain from electricity coursing through his skull, his jaw, his throat. He’d shot back up and started to make hasty excuses to leave, but she had reassured him, gently and patiently, that it was okay.

“A lot of people seize up at different parts of the cut,” she had explained. “Sometimes it’s the clippers, sometimes it’s the wash. Each person’s experience is different, and we’ve all been through a lot. I’m used to adapting.”

She had him stand and flip his head over the sink instead. She’d needed a step stool to be able to work the shampoo and conditioner through his hair. As she chatted casually about her clients, which she revealed are usually from the support group, he sunk into the feeling of her fingers moving against this scalp and the easy cadence of her voice.

(Familiarity has always been a trigger for danger, but he realizes Ana is a lot like Rebecca. When their parents died, his spunky younger sister had shifted her attention from her own endeavors to helping others. He knew it was a crutch, in the same way he’d readily thrown himself into his civic duty. Ana reminded him of Rebecca, not necessarily in a sisterly way, but in a safe way.)

When she had him under the cape, she’d told him what she was thinking for the cut, confirmed that he’d liked her ideas, and she’d detailed every step of the cut before executing it. She painstakingly only used scissors for the haircut, carding her fingers through his hair meticulously.

“Okay, so, for your facial hair, we have options.” She’d dusted off the cape with a brush before planting her fists on her hips. The rest of the shop had been pretty much deserted, except one barber and customer toward the front. “I could use the clippers and bring your hair down and leave, like, a shadow, or I could use the blade… but it’d have to be a clean shave.” She laughs at his horrified look. “Okay, okay. The other option is just shaping up what you have going on, nothing off the length. I can do that with the blade, but it’d be much faster and easier to do it with the clippers.”

“I trust you.” The words are out of his mouth before he can consider them. Even she looks slightly shocked. He doubles down, “Do what you think is best.”

“I’m partial to the facial hair,” she says, unraveling the electric razor. Again, her words have no usual subliminal context. “We’ll start with the razor for the shape up, and if it becomes too much, we’ll kick it old school with the blade.”

(For the briefest moment, at the end of the process, Bucky wonders what Rue will think.)

////

George lets out a low whistle when he sees Bucky walk through Fogwell’s doors. He’s putting on his coat while Bucky is taking off his.

“You clean up nicely, kid. Got a hot date or something?”

Bucky laughs, “Thanks, sir, but it’s nothing like that.”

“What did I tell you about calling me ‘sir’,” George swats Bucky with his hat before putting it on. Bucky laughs again. “You got a job interview or something?”

“No, I met a hairdresser,” Bucky says. “At a veteran’s support group. She offered a free haircut, and I figured it was time.”

(He feels like information is just flowing out of him today, like water from a faucet - and the handle is jammed open. His heart says, it’s okay it’s just George, but his brain screamed, you’re in dangerous waters, Barnes.)

George gives him a look he can’t place. He takes both of Bucky’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze.

“You’re doing good, kid.” Bucky is seized by a feeling he hadn’t felt in a while. Something like pride, something like gratitude. “You’re doing good.”

(When George leaves, Bucky gets a call. In Russian, on the other end of the life, he hears, I have the information you requested.)

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allexthakatt · 2 years

Text

I am writing this as a small form of therapy lol. I may have projected a tad bit into the story due to my own personal life but it is still very much a X Reader one shot I promise.

This is also my entering to the #lovelylynnchallenge by @lovely-lynn-writes ! I love their work and I figured why the hell not?

-Please keep in mind I have been out of the writing game for a bit.-

PAIRING: SPENCER REID X PLUS SIZE! LATINA! FEM! READER

WARNINGS: SMUT! MINORS DNI!!! 18+ ONLY! A bit of family drama, the fear of thunderstorms, lightning, maybe mild angst if you squint?

Summary: Spencer and Y/n haven't really talked or connected before. But when a loud thunderstorm roars overs Quantico, Y/n struggles to keep her childish fear at bay. Who else to stay by her side than a sweet lanky FBI agent?

-----

Thunderstorms Are Scary, But You Make It Better.

It was getting pretty late by the time the jet arrived back at Quantico. At that point the team was glad to have made it back safe and sound given the angry looking clouds surrounding the building. Lightning was far in the distance and, though pretty far, Y/n can tell a pretty bad storm was coming their way.

The look on her face throughout the whole ride home was flat out proof of her uneasiness. She never liked thunderstorms. They always made her want to hide under the bed like a scared puppy all alone. No one seemed to really pay attention to her being uncomfortable. No one except Spencer.

Y/n and Spencer weren't really friends. But they weren't enemies either. They were simply coworkers. At first, Y/n had tried to make friends with him. Even going as far to bring him a brand new book she'd heart him talking about a few days prior. To no avail unfortunately.

It's not that Spencer didn't like her. In fact he liked her quite a lot. Often choosing to just enjoy her personality and humor from afar. It's simply because he was... Afraid. He knew from the start he'd develop something with her. A certain something he didn't want to think about anymore. Not after all he'd been through with so many women before her. He'd for sure crush on her. Truth be told, he already was. (Not that bed admit it.) There's no telling what might happen if he put himself in such a vulnerable state again. After what happened with Cat and then Max... It was best to just stay away.

But the way she looked tonight. The slight tremble she had when a thunder boom would get just just a bit louder than last time. The fear was building, slowly but surely there. The tough facade already cracking. Yet it seemed no one noticed her distressed state. Why? She was clearly uncomfortable, rubbing her thighs with the palm of her hands (something she'd probably had developed as a habit to help anxiety.) Not engaging as much in conversation as much, not even making eye contact anymore.

By the time they were all walking in the bullpen she was lagging behind, not really looking forward to drive in the weather. Spencer had seen enough to feel the need to do something. She wasn't a friend, but he wouldn't be able to relax at home knowing he didn't at least offer.

"Do you maybe want to ride together?" The question came out of the blue, especially from Spencer. She wasn't about to turn down company in the storm though. "Uhm, sure. But I live a little ways away, I wouldn't want to be putting you out of your way." Spencer shook his head, "You wouldn't be. It seems a pretty nasty storm is on the way, and I saw you pretty nervous on the jet. I just want to make sure you get home safely."

He noticed? Y/n genuinely thought Spencer wants nothing to do with her. Confusion on her face, "Are you absolutely sure?" Not wanting any regrets from him. "Absolutely. I can even drive if you'd want." She shook her head, "No no no, I think I'm okay enough to drive. Thank you though. But how are you going to get back home?"

The elevator opens for them after Spencer pushes the button. "Oh I usually take public transportation. I don't use my car much." They reach the lobby as Y/n pulls out her keys. "You can just sleep on the couch. I don't want you going on the subway in weather like this. If that's okay with you?"

He'd thought of the situation, it would be nice not having to go back out in the rain. With his go bag and satchel as they were quite heavy for the long journey. No harm in just a night, right?

The car right was silent for the most part, aside from the calm music coming from the radio. Y/n was just trying not to look at the ominous lightning that seems most definitely closer than earlier. Spencer was trying not to focus on Y/n.

The storm was coming in heavy pellets when they finally walk through the door. Spencer looks around and sees what he can only describe as Y/n. Vintage vinyl records framed with the album cover right beside it. A fairly big TV with an Xbox and a few games and controllers scattered around. At the center of the wall was a guitar, one that she'd most definitely cherished. It was dusted, in pristine condition. With an autograph on near the bottom.

"Steve Harris." She said. Spencer turned to her, a confused look spreading across his features. "The autograph on the guitar. I see you eyeballin' it. Steve Harris signed it back in 2012. He's a guitarist in Iron Maiden." She had a smile on her lips, remembering the day she met her heroes. He nods slowly, "Is Iron Maiden a band?"

She giggles slightly, finding it cute and yet not surprising he'd never heard of them. "Yea they are. A heavy metal band formed in the 80s and still going strong today. My favorite band actually." She took off her shoes and jacket, about to go change.

"The bathroom is right over there, if you wanna get into something more comfortable than a suit. I'll be right back, I'm gonna get in jammies myself." She walked away and he notices how she said 'jammies' instead of just 'pajamas'. another cute little quirk she has he finds himself thinking about often. Her personality is very confident, yet her demeanor is often times shy and reserved. She never really talked about her family or childhood. He guesses there's a story as to why.

"Okay, I'm back. Do you want some tea or water? I don't have any coffee but I can do hot cocoa if you'd like." She made her way to the kitchen to prepare storm tea for herself. "Just tea is fine, thank you. I'll be right back."

The tea is brewing as he leaves to change. She'd never thought he'd actually be here in her house; Spencer of all people; this late at night. Perhaps there was just a misunderstanding between them and she'd just assumed he didn't like her. She gets along so well with everyone on the team but when it comes to Spencer, she freezes up. Afraid to say the wrong thing.

The storm is right above them, making Y/n more on edge than ever. They're both on the couch lightly chatting as a massive bout of thunder booms, sending Y/n practically jumping into Spencer's arms. And just as luck would have it, the power goes out.

Sitting in Spencer's lap in the dark was a lot more sensual than she'd thought. Of course how wouldn't it be, though, right? Especially when Spencer finds her so damn attractive. Y/n quickly stands up, still scared from the thunder and flustered from being in Spencer's arms.

Y/n lights a few candles in the living room, navigating her home with her phone flash light. She also opens a window because, while also being terrified of thunder, she loves the rain itself.

"Is this okay? I can close it if you want. I just like the rain." She sits down with her tea near the window. "That's fine. But I'm assuming you don't like the thunder though, right?" He sits beside her with his own tea. "I really don't. I never have. In fact as a child I'd hide under the table and cry when it'd be this loud. My mother always said it was fine not to worry so much, never believed her though."

She smiled lightly and looked down. It wasn't a smile you'd do thinking of your mom, though. And Spencer noticed. "How come you don't really talk about your family?" It came out too fast, and he'd regretted it immediately. "I'm sorry if that was a little forward. You don't have to answer if you really don't want to." To which Y/n thankfully replied "Don't worry about it. I'm not sure why I don't talk about them. I just.. Don't I guess."

She fiddles with her nails, another habit she'd developed to help anxiety. "I don't really talk to them much anymore. Not my siblings anyway. We don't really get along, never really have. I'm not like them, thank God. And they have a pretty petty problem with who I've become. It's that things are better if we don't talk anymore." The darkness only adds to the silent environment. "My mom usually sides with them, but my dad always just did his best. He's the one that actually took me to the concert where I got that guitar."

That makes sense. That guitar isn't just a fan memoir, it's a memory with the one person in her family she felt safe with. Spencer put it all together. Music was probably a way to ease her pain when nothing else did; an escape for her, just as books were an escape for him. Then when her dad took her to see her favorite band and even meet the band themselves, it meant much more to her than just a simple autograph on a guitar. That's why it's so taken care of, in the center of living room where she sees it every day. It's her most prized possession.

"Do you still talk with your father?" He wanted to learn more. He'd never really had a family, his mother having episodes more frequent than not and an absent father made it hard to feel like he had one at all.

"Occasionally, I call as often as I can, what with all the cases. He's still the same old fire chief he was back then. Out of all of them my dad's the only one that really kept a bond with me." She takes another sip of tea, trying not to really think of her broken family life. Y/n didn't really want to bore Spencer with her sob story of how her siblings practically despise her and her mother doesn't like her.

Spencer takes a risk, a pretty big one at that. He lightly puts a hand on her own. To his surprise Y/n take his hand in hers, awkwardly holding it avoiding eye contact.

Eventually her curiosity takes over. "Why don't you ever talk to me? Or.. Do you not really like me?" She still avoided eye contact, her shyness showing through the tough exterior. Spencer doesn't really know how to respond. Is he honest? Tell her that he's just a damaged boy with lots of trauma but still really likes her? Or lie and say... What would he even say? No lie could sound better than the actual truth so... Why not just tell her?

"I actually really like you, Y/n. I've been through a lot. Especially when you first came on the team, I wasn't really ready for a new friend. And by the time I realized what a wonderful person you were, it was already too late." He scoots just a bit closer. Close enough to hold her hand more securely than before.

Nothing could really prepare for that. She doesn't know what she was expecting, but she wasn't expecting that, that's for sure. Deciding to take it a tiny step further; "Everyone deserves seconds chances." Looking up to see him already staring in her eyes.

Her eyes were so pretty. He could stare at them for as long as she'd let him. And her lips. Her lips were so plump, so ready for the taking. Practically begging for him to inch closer, so he does.

He inches just a bit closer, seeing her pupils dilate just a little. Enough for him to see a difference. "Do I get a second chance, Y/n?" They were centimeters apart, her heart beating as loud as the thunder outside. (Which she had all but forgotten about in the moment.) Seeing him so close to her, the only light in the room being a few candles and the occasional lightning shining through the open window, and his pupils just as darkened as hers were. How could she say no?

"Of course you do." He leaned in and closed the gap, gently gripping her face with his free hand and he kisses her with all the passion that's been building up all this time.

She leans into the kiss, hands around his neck inching closer to the roots of his hair begging to be pulled. He tasted like tea and honey, a small hint of peppermint. His scent made her body burn, nothing she could really explain. It was just... Him. A hint of cologne and a but if aftershave, but it was him. And he was all over her.

Hands started to roam her frame. Too long had he imagined how she'd feel underneath him, every curve and dip waiting to be explored by him. She was so soft, so delicate, so fucking irresistible he had to get to know every inch and remember it for a later night.

She fell back onto the couch, bringing him with her. He lay between her thighs, gripping him in place and keeping him there. Where he belongs.

God... He thinks. How could she already feel so good? He knows she could probably feel how hard he is already through her thin shorts, and oh was he right.

She felt him, all right, and holy shit. He was big. Bigger than what she'd originally thought. Not too thick, but long indeed. Long enough to get the job done, she assumes. Hopefully, she doesn't have to wait too long to find out.

Without realizing it Spencer starts mindlessly grinding against her. Needing some type of friction to ease aching in his groin, begging to be released with the beautiful woman he has under him. Her breath is becoming more erotic, wanting him so much closer than where he is. She can hear little grunts from him, and decides she needs to hear more.

His hands are grabbing at whatever they can get (mostly her thighs) so tight she's sure she'll have some marks on her in the morning. Not that she really minds, though.

"Spen-Spencer.. Please.." She was hot and heavy, feeling like she was about to snap if he didn't get inside her soon. "Tell me what you want, baby." He needed to hear her say it. Straight up how much she needs him.

"Spencer.. Fuck me."

He didn't need to be told twice; he sits up, slowly lowering his pants to tease her just a bit more. Two can play that game, Y/n sits up slightly, undoing the buttons of her shirt even slower than he. Making sure to look right into his eyes. He's staring right back, anticipation building up, and the last button is finally gone as is his pants.

Spencer didn't want to waste any more time not being inside her. He practically rips off her shorts and panties, keeping in mind where they land for later, knowing she'll need them again. Spencer leans down again, his hands cupping both breasts and pushing his face between them. This, he thought, is what heaven is.

She tugs on his shirt and before long that's gone too. Her hands roam and touch at anything she can reach, but before she can explore further, he pushes her back.

"Are you sure you want this? We can stop now, Y/n." He didn't want any hesitation, he needed to know this is what she wants. That he's what she wants. "Yes, baby. I want this. I want you."

She gives him another kiss, except this one felt more... passionate. She wanted him in every single way, any way he'll allow her.

As their tongues fight to dominance, he slides into her, she's so dripping wet already he's not surprised he can go in so smoothly.

He's finally fully in, and she has to break the kiss to let out the sexiest sound he's ever heard. She feels so good, so beautifully wet and the best part is, it's all for him.

"Ugh, fuck baby... You so wet for me, huh?" He does a little thrust, emphasizing the sound it makes. "O-oh, Spencer.. Fuck.. All for you baby. Only for you." Her grip on his shoulders tighten and her breathing increases. Spencer can't think of anything but her. Beautiful, sexy, special Y/n.

His thrusts becoming more rhythmic, and the sounds coming from both her and him are absolutely sinful. Y/n tries to focus, attempting to commit this all to memory. She hopes this isn't a one time thing, but if it is, she wants to remember every minute of this.

One hand grips her thigh and the other gets tangled in her hair, loving the way her body feels against his. The moans coming from her mouth making it difficult for him to keep it together, and she's having the same problem.

"Ugh! Fuck, Spencer I'm so close..!" He's hitting that perfect spot, that perfect angle and it's about to send her over the edge.

"Cum for me baby. Let me know just how good I'm making you feel." His grips tighten and so does her stomach. The moans are getting louder now, Y/n no longer having the mental capacity to keep herself in check.

"Ack...! Fuck! Spencer!" She didn't have to tell him, he knew, and fuck did she look good. Her head tilts back, giving him the perfect opportunity to leave little marks, claiming her as his.

He can feel himself get closer to that same high. "Where do you want me to cum, baby?" He'd cum anyway she'd wanted, but she had to tell him soon before it spills into her.

"I-I'm on the pill baby.. But you can pull out if you want to. I've never had someone cum on me before." She pulled him even closer, kissing his neck and pulling on his hair. That was it, his orgasm coming full force as he loses his composure. "Oh fuck, Y/n!" He pulls out, spilling over her hips and abdomen.

They lay there like that for a couple minutes more, not wanting to leave each other's embrace quite yet. Until Spencer sits up lightly and leaves a kiss on Y/n's forehead.

"Let me get you a towel, darling." He gets up to go to the bathroom. Leaving Y/n laying with a smile on her face.

When he returns with the towel he leans down to clean her up. Wiping away all evidence of him off of her. She sits up, reaching for her shirt and putting it back on.

"I didn't even realize, the storm has passed." They both let out a laugh, thank it wasn't awkward now that they'd been intimate.

Now that they were sitting together again, fully clothed once again, Spencer spoke up. "Would you like to go on a real date with me? I'd like to get to know you. The real you."

She smiles at him, "Spencer, I'd love to."

------------------

Should I do a tag list? I know I don't update much, but if that's something you'd wanna be a part of let me know!

Enjoy! Baiii! 🥰

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #lovelylynnchallenge

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frecklystars · 6 months

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Hey, you absolutely do not have to respond to this if you don't wanna, I just wanted to tell you about an option that might help with your PTSD. I have severe C-PTSD that debilitates me and has caused me to be severely suicidal for most of my life. Therapy and meds helped a little but were ultimately useless, until on a last ditch effort, I decided to try psilocybin therapy. I cultivated them myself and took a small amount every month, and I went from insanely suicidal to actually having a will to live and happiness again. I still have a lot of issues, but taking a gram of mushrooms once a month has genuinely saved my life. I don't usually recommend it bc nobody reacts the same way, but I just thought I'd tell you so that you could research it. I learned how to grow them via r/unclebens. Like I said, you don't have to acknowledge this, I just figured I'd pass it along. I hope that either way, things get better for you.

Before I say anything else, I want to say that I am so, so, so sorry that you have to deal with c-ptsd as well. My heart goes out to you. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to talk to me, a complete stranger, to offer some kindness and empathy; I appreciate you sending this to me and being so open. I sometimes feel like my own c-ptsd is very "stupid" because I have a long, LONG list of triggers that aren't "normal" like colors, clothes, phrases... I guess that's why they're triggers, they're not supposed to "make sense" but still. Exactly like you said, it debilitates your life. I'm so sorry that you've had to deal with this too. It's terrifying to live with. I've had both ptsd and c-ptsd in my life and... like, they're both incredibly challenging, I'm not downplaying ptsd at all in comparison to c-ptsd -- that being said -- holy fuck c-ptsd is a whole new ballgame. When I went thru the worst of my ptsd years ago I was like "wow nothing could be harder than this" and now the c-ptsd is happening and I'm like "oh I was wrong, this is so much worse actually" at least for me in my personal experiences

Mentally I am holding your hand and I see you and I hear you and I am so proud of you for continuing to live when it has been so fucking hard. I am so glad you're here. Thank you for being here and for continuing to fight when it's so damn hard. Look at you go. You're crushing it. I see you striving.

This is something (well, not the exercise specifically, but uhhhh, the shrooms I guess) that was recommended to me by a support group for my ptsd years and years and years ago; I brought it up with a few doctors but I was strongly advised not to try it bc they said it would make my anxiety/depression far worse. I'm not sure if the answer would change now since I'm older and I'd be asking different doctors lol... this is actually my first time hearing about therapy for it, however. I think that's very interesting. I've always been very nervous around drugs and have never considered smoking anything bc my anxiety around it is so bad, but sometimes the flashbacks are so awful and the nightmares have been HORRIFIC and nonstop for 14 months now, i'm willing to sell my soul to the devil just to get rid of them at this point 😭 i had one of my worst breakdowns ever last night and all i did was accidentally stumble upon (1) single photo of a trigger, and it set me off for hours, getting physically sick and unable to do literally anything except Be Sick On The Floor. but I will definitely think it through more and ask some professionals abt this specific kind of therapy; when I was younger I used to have some slight heart problems so I'd probably have to ask what's the best approach for me first... I'll try to do some further internet research on it too

Only once a month huh... Whether or not if it's something I'd even be able to try, I'm SO glad it helps you, man. I'm so glad you could have some peace and relief that you didn't have before. Thank you for your well wishes, I extend the same to you ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

#anonymous #asks #drugs cw #drugs mention #drugs #ask to tag #ptsd

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queerautism · 2 years

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I was wondering if you or any of your followers could offer help or suggestions to deal with a phobia I've been struggling with recently.

I just started this new medication for a chronic illness thats been plaguing me my whole life. It's a very recently developed medication (approved in 2017) that took two years to get approved for me and extremely expensive. There's no other treatments like it. I'm lucky to have insurance and financial aid to cover it, but the problem is that this medication only comes as an injection.

I have a severe needle phobia and always have. I've been able to make it through the first couple doses and I'm lucky I only have to take them every 2 weeks. But so far the experience with the injections has been horrible and we keep fucking up to make it extra painful and traumatic. The first one we did while the medicine was still cold from being refridgerated and it burned badly. Before the second dose I was already experiencing very bad anxiety, and apparently my sister had taken the cap off the pen and put it back on multiple times, and it ended up dulling the needle so it was extremely painful.

We're still learning, but I'm afraid these experiencing have made my phobia worse. My last dose was supposed to be a week ago but we ended up having to skip it. I sat down with my mom's gf (a nurse) for over 3 hours trying to build myself up to it but instead I had consecutive anxiety attacks until we gave up. We tried it again a couple days later and I didnt freak out, but I still couldnt bring myself to go through with it even though I knew I needed to. I always feel horrible afterwards for wasting everyones time and not being able to do it.

I really need this medication and I'm lucky to have the support I do to be able to get it, but I ended up having to waste a $1200 pen of medicine because I couldn't stop sobbing (and it can only have the cap off and be out of the fridge for so long).

I've had a few suggestions like trying to see if I can get Ativan or some kind of med from my doctor that can make me relax the day of the injection, or if maybe numbing cream or something would help, but I dont know. I even tried smoking weed beforehand to see if it could help relax me but I think it made me worse off. I always feel okay about it up until the moment it's close to me and then I shut down.

It's a very irrational phobia and I don't know how to tell my body + brain + nervous system that I'll be okay with a little bit of stabbing for a better quality of life

I'm so sorry you're struggling with it. I don't have experience with anything like this, but I have phobias that I've been struggling to get over for years, and I know how much that sucks.

Maybe followers will have some advice, but at this point I'd really recommend you read up on actual exposure therapy, and if you can, see if a few sessions of it with a professional might be helpful.

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alligator-spaceinvader · 1 month

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I miss you. Big love. Hope you’re okay.

TW: anxiety, depression, disordered eating habits, panic attacks, mention of self-harm, mention of suic!dal ideation, mention of alcohol abuse

I'm guessing you're either Harper, Harrison, Asya, Michael, Sable, Becs, Katherine, or Megan, (maybe even Kara?) and whichever one of them you are I need you to know that I love you so, so much. And I miss you (all of you) so deeply it hurts. If anon isn't anyone I just listed, that's ok too and I still love you anyways for caring about me.

In terms of whether or not I'm okay... it's a complicated answer, because on a day-to-day basis, I am usually okay overall (like, mentally), bc I've been communicating w/ all of my family members literally every day, which (shockingly) helps me feel more emotionally tethered to the world. Also, I just got done with the first college course I've ever actually completed in my life (3 CREDITZ BITCHESSS!!!:D), so that tiny step towards self-empowerment & independence has me feeling very proud and determined to continue (I enrolled in a summer course last week!).

However, I've been dealing with some extremely intense self-imposed social isolation (and not just the covid kind, obvi) for multiple years now. Part of this is due to my inability to drive (also I technically have my learners permit now!) but mostly this is due to my own emotional issues that I have to work through in therapy. I don't feel empowered or secure enough to place or enforce boundaries, so I rarely feel able to assert my own social wants/needs and actually act on my desire to see my friends again. I've been getting some truly ass-kicking, ER-worthy panic attacks on the rare occasions that I DO try to go see one or a couple of my friends, and it usually results in me cutting the meeting short so I can rush home and descend into a really dark mental place full of adrenaline-soaked doombeliefs & crushing depression (not suic*dal ideation anymore, thanks to my trusty ol' escitalopram!) that renders me physically unable to eat or drink water for like 15 hours, even after I've taken my prescribed anxiety medication. I've alienated myself so hard that I'm terrified my friends will just eventually get sick of being constantly rejected and avoided and will be hurt and grow to resent me for my constant, deeply sh!tty behavior towards them.

My biggest thing i'm dealing w/ and stressing over right now is that one of my best friends is engaged and will be getting married in the future-- and since I already missed my other best friend's wedding due to this neurotic mental illness & soul-destroying inability to stand up for myself, I'm more determined than ever to NEVER let that happen again-- so I've been trying to gather the documents i need in order to renew my passport (bc I'm assuming the wedding will be in canada). i got my replacement ss card in the mail the other day and now all i need is to find my birth certificate at my dad's house. If I miss one more friend's wedding because of the stupidest reasons in the world, I will be so crushed and defeated, I can't bear the thought of not being there (another reason I'm desperate to not miss it is that the wedding might be one of my only chances to see and apologize to my first friend whose wedding I missed, and I really really don't want to blow this chance)

Oh, also *nervous laugher* I had a ~sliiiiiiight~ ED relapse recently, which is tbh totally exacerbating every single stressor in my life to the degree that I've returned to my former habit of dissolving into tears and hyperventilating multiple times a day, every day. so far, it's not bad enough for me to feel like i need to hide it yet, but i'm familiar enough with this whole dreadful process by now that it I know it's never really in my control at all, at least not in the way I keep deluding myself into believing. lol.

and lastly, the greatest stressor in my life right now is that my mother's been struggling so badly w/ her mania and depression lately, she flippantly stopped taking her antidepressant and I feel literally sick to my f*cking stomach with the choking fear that she'll act on her suic*dal ideation one night and that I'll suddenly find myself in the world without my Momma. She's resumed self-harmnig and has been drinking heavily. "terrified" doesn't come close to describing how intense & heavy the oppressive fear of losing her is hanging over me every second of my waking life. (And also while I'm asleep. I literally have horrifically graphic, haunting nightmares of her k!lling herself in different ways, multiple nights a week, and I'll wake up soaked in sweat and start my day off with a nice session of dizzying hyperventilation.)

So, overall, I'm "okay" in the way that I'm able to take the time to comfort myself and practice self-care at home, w/ my partner and my doggle, and prioritize communication with my immediate family members (which has pretty much never happened before in my life), and I've been doing school and I'm all set up to continue college classes, and I've been taking steps towards renewing my passport...

however, I'm also not doing ok in the way that i miss my friends so much it physically burns in my throat, chest, all the way down to my solar plexus and i find myself incapable of responding to their repeated efforts to reach out to me again and again; i'm so concerned for my mother's health and safety that i'm in a near-constant state of sheer panic and preparation for dashing over to her apartment in case I need to break down her door and save her; i've noticed a concerning reappearance of e@ting- dis0rdered behaviors that i haven't engaged in for literally years; and i'm too mentally ill to socialize w/ any of my friends, literally at all, w/o it triggering a days-long meltdown :\

Thank you anon for reaching out to me. Whoever you are, I love you for caring about me and missing me. I'm so deeply sorry I haven't gotten my sh!t together by now. I swear to god i'm trying every day to get stronger and more assertive. i'm very, very grateful that all of you haven't given up on me yet

(please let me know if I missed any TWs in the tags)

#tw mental illness #tw mental health #tw disordered eating habits #tw ed #tw anxiety #tw depression #tw suicide #tw suicidal ideation #tw self harm #tw self harm mention #tw sh #tw eating issues #tw eating disorder #friends #personal #tw alcohol #tw alcohol mention

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alokastrology1 · 1 year

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Can Spiritual counseling help me overcome depression?

People who are depressed often feel sad, but they also think the world is unfair, that life has no point, or that God doesn’t like them. You might wonder, “Am I clinically depressed or just not believing in God?” “Is life as empty and unfair as it seems?” “Is God going to punish me?” Should I take medication or something else? It is a lot like spiritual experiences that people have every day.

Get an online astrology consultation by the world-renowned Astrologer Mr. Alok Khandelwal.

Some people don’t want to get help because they think they should have more faith. Religious traditions and communities perceive depression as a sickness, proof of mental weakness, or even punishment, yet it can be addressed through Spiritual counseling for depression.

What's it all about?

Depression kills enthusiasm and stops people from taking action. It can also make people feel hopeless and make their minds and bodies sick. You can make a resource for outbursts and actions without worrying that someone might regret it later.

Often, these thoughts are pointless. Depression must be treated so individuals may live with greater enjoyment, naivete, energy, and potential.

What is depression spiritual counseling?

From a divine point of view, it’s easy to get over depression, despite what someone with depression might think. It’s not as hard as you might think. This is a concern since mental capacity affects viewpoint. This advice is for those who need to see a doctor about something physically wrong with them; it takes into account environmental, psychological, and esoteric issues.

First, try to figure out the problem’s cause as best you can by analyzing it. Do not rush. Think about the question as you sit quietly. If you have to, spend a few days.

Don’t pay attention to the reasons, because your problems can’t be solved and you can’t get past them. All of your problems can be solved or dissolved by the divine inside you and the expensive things around it. Don’t just give up.

Keep your body in good shape by working out regularly and doing other healthy things. Both your mind and body will feel refreshed and re-energized after a walk in the field.

A clean and healthy diet is important for the health of both the body and the mind. Increase your intake of fresh fruits and vegetables. You can get them at health food stores. Vitamin tablets made from natural products can be good for you.

To strengthen the nervous system, you should get enough exercise, take time to relax, eat healthy food, and pray regularly. Even practicing yoga every day is better.

Read Also:- Lucky Colors To Wear This Holiday Season!

How do spiritual therapies work?

The best way to use the divinity inside you is to say the holy names of God over and over again and get spiritual counseling. Please pick the name of God that means the most to you from the Bible and say it over and over again, without stopping.

You will feel your power in a short time. All of the holy books of the world agree on this technique of spiritual practice. The last power of the divine name is like the power in a tree seed that is not yet used.

Just like a seed needs soil and water to grow into such a big plant, the divine name needs to be said over and over again for its power to show.

How do the mind and body interact to cause depression?

Discomfort caused by things like digestive problems, diabetes, anemia, or other diseases will naturally lead to a scarcity layout in the mind.

Too much sugar can induce high and low blood sugar, which affects mood.

Young moms may feel depressed right after giving birth. Hormones are often out of whack at that time, so a new mother’s feelings about things can change a lot.

A tiring mental arrangement is caused by a flawed nervous system or too much work and stress. And a bad attitude can make things go even further off track in the long run.

What are the outside things that can cause depression?

It seems that simple things like the weather or a cloudy day can cause sadness and depression.

If someone’s welfare state isn’t good enough, it can also make them fight.

A person will also become more negative if they work with other negative people.

Have your possessions stolen from you or destroyed in a fire, tornado, storm, or other natural disasters.

Conclusion.

At the top level of spiritual growth, you can reach a spiritual bliss that lets you forget about all your troubles, challenges, and material conditions. But that’s a different story.

If you think about yourself, you can rise above good or bad things that happen. You can’t let what’s going on in the world or your life gets you down, or you won’t be able to do anything about it. Counseling works, and it always makes things better.

Read Also:- The Importance of Vastu for factories

#asttrolok #astrology consultation #Help Depression #Depression #cause depression #best astrologers #astrologers #online astrologers #vedic astrologer in usa

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shxxtingstarss · 2 years

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therapy no. 33

Today was actually quite good, after me talking about the chaos in my head and in my life, we looked at my problem with boundaries again.

I started pretty slow and exhausted, and talked about how problematic my situation with F is at the moment (awkward moment: he asked me if I still had sex with him bc I told him so last week, and because we shortly f*cked yesterday, I had to say yes. But at least I didn't have sex with him again even tho I really didn't want to, that happened the week before and I dissociated really badly. I only did that because I was afraid he wouldn't like me anymore / wouldn't spend time with me anymore if I didn't sleep with him bc he proposed the friends with benefits thing). We got to the topic of setting boundaries pretty fast and had a very similar conversation about it as in a session before. But we analysed it a bit more how I have a different standard for boundaries when it comes to me than when looking at other people - in the meta-level I know very well that boundaries are a very personal / individual thing, but when thinking about my boundaries, they just seem wrong and I try to align my boundaries to some kind of "normal" level (which obviously doesn't exist, but to a level that I can observe in many people, trying to find some kind of "standard" bc my boundaries were always called wrong so I sometimes have no idea of where they actually are and instead have to try the boundaries of other ppl to see if it might fit to my boundaries or not).

This lead us to why I think of my boundaries like that and why I am afraid of setting boundaries and am afraid of being humiliated for my boundaries - because of how my boundaries were treated when I was a child and because that is still engraved in my nervous system. The part of being humiliated for my boundaries kinda triggered some memories of when I was still living with my mother and she brutally humiliated me for any boundaries I tried to set. We then also talked about some stuff I remembered because of the book I am still reading, a book about trauma-research, where I read about how perpetrators destroy their victims' autonomy and their whole view of the world basically and make them dependent on the perpetrators, I then realised that some of the things I thought were projection of my mother were more a pretty systemic way of destroying me. Kinda too much to explain it here shortly, maybe I'll make a post about this someday.

Definitely a good therapy session, still pretty depressed but I'm not as suicidal anymore as I was on the weekend, I am currently typing this while sitting at a desk with my gym-crush who invited me to come study with her at a study-room in a building of my uni, but I kinda regret coming here because (almost as if I knew it) there is a reason that I wasn't studying the last few weeks and instead desperately tried to get some kind of distraction from my thoughts - tried learning now and first of all I'm way too tired bc my sleep quality is f*cked at the moment (thank you nightmares), and a few minutes later the bad thoughts started and it's really hard to push them away. I'm listening to music now and I'll try again, but this is kinda self-torturing.

#trauma #trauma therapy #therapy #mental illness #bpd #borderline pd #actually borderline #actually bpd #actually mentally ill

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diaphragmjellyfish · 3 years

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I Have This... Thing

Not My Gif

So as someone with vaginismus, it’s sometimes frustrating to read fan fiction, specifically smut. Y/N always has sex so easily and with very little foreplay, finishing with no issues. And it’s so great for people who can do that, but it’s not the case for all of us. Some of us can’t have any sort of penetration without pain. Some people can’t finish without toys, or hours of work. Some people will never be able to have penetrative sex. There’s all kinds of people, and there’s all kinds of sex. But not near enough fics featuring Y/N’s with these issues. So I’m going to write some, and feel free to request any issue with any character, and if I don’t know that character, we can collaborate to find a character you like that I do know.

Paul Lahote x reader smut.

You had lived in Forks for about 6 months now. You’ve known your new friends here for 5 months. And you’ve been the imprint of Paul Lahote for 3 months. Well, you’ve been his imprint since you guys first locked eyes at La Push when you first hung out with Emily, but he didn’t tell you about the whole werewolf/ imprint thing until 3 months ago. Safe to say it came as a shock. Your friends, the people who had welcomed you so easily, helped you move furniture around, and gave you tours of the new town, were WOLVES. Or engaged to wolves. *cough* Emily *cough*. You had to take a few weeks break from them after they told you. After Sam explained the legends, the lore. After Paul told you that you were basically his soul mate. It’s a lot to take in!

But you quickly realized that you had grown to love the pack. And now that you knew the big secret, things were easier around them. No more lies about where they had all been. No more avoiding talking about their mysterious injuries that only seemed to last for a couple hours. No more awkwardly dancing around why Paul stared at you constantly and wouldn’t let any other guy get within 6 feet of you without having a rage attack and sprinting into the woods. Things were going good.

Well… as good as they could be without sex. Yep. You and Paul had been together for 3 months and you have not had sex. You didn’t give each other head. You didn’t take your clothes off around each other. You didn’t even dry hump. And you knew it was your fault. You could tell that Paul was getting nervous about the fact that you wouldn’t let him touch you like that. He would never ask you about it, because he wouldn’t want you to feel pressured or rushed, but you could tell it was on his mind. The little sad smile he would give when you stopped things from going further. The hover of his hands over your ass before landing back on your waist. The way he looked almost guilty after looking at you in a swimsuit or crop top.

See, vaginismus made relationships difficult. You never had a long term relationship before Paul. You were either too scared to tell partners about it, and just dealt with the excruciating pain, which would lead to resentment and breakups, or you would tell them and they would ghost you. Guys don’t normally go for girls who’s opening line is “Hi! I cannot have sex without crying.” You’d been dilating for almost a year now. It was going okay. Some days hurt more than others. A lot of times, Paul would ask you to hang out when you were in the middle of your physical therapy, and you would have to make up some excuse as to why you couldn't. Too tired. Headache. Stomach bug. He was starting to catch on.

One day, you guys were hanging out at your apartment watching a movie. You had been making out, but as soon as it started getting slightly heated, you had pulled away and got up to get a drink refill. Paul, having gotten used to the routine, didn’t question you. While you were in the kitchen pouring some more juice, Paul asked “Hey babe? Do you have a charger I can borrow?”

“Yeah it’s in the top drawer of my bedside table,” you haphazardly yelled back.

You heard him get up and go into your bedroom, rummaging around a little. Then silence.

“Hey babe?” he said hesitantly. You thought he just couldn’t find the charger, so you began walking towards your room to grab it for him. Once you got to the doorway, you stopped dead in your tracks. Eyes wide. Face bright red. Paul held up the dilator you were currently on, which was about 5 inches long and looked… well let’s be honest. It looked like a dildo. The bottle of lubricant that was also in the drawer didn’t help your case. How the fuck were you supposed to explain yourself? You expected Paul to tease you, make some sex jokes, and maybe try to make out with you again, but he didn’t. He looked absolutely crushed.

“Do you not want to have sex with me?” He asked, sounding on the verge of tears.

“What?! Paul, of course I want to have sex with you!”

“Then why this?” he pressed.

“You don’t even know what that’s for. Let me explain,” you pleaded, afraid he was going to lose that infamous temper. You’d never witnessed it before, but you were scared you were about to.

“I think I have a pretty good guess about what this is for!” He exclaimed, holding it up. “You won’t even let me kiss your neck but you have this that you obviously use when I’m not around. You don’t want to have sex with me. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Paul! That’s not true at all!” You were starting to get irritated at his assumptions. “It’s for physical therapy.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling orgasms now?” He questioned, exasperated.

“I’m not talking about orgasms! If you gave me two seconds to explain, you would know that that does not bring me an ounce of pleasure. I hate having to use it.” You started to tear up at this, all the memories of your struggles surging back up. At this, Paul stopped. He looked super confused, but also worried about you. God forbid you shed a tear, Paul would rip the world apart to make you happy again. “Come sit down,” you said, resigned, as you moved to sit on the edge of your bed. Paul, still holding the dilator in his hand, sat down next to you. The silence seemed to last an eternity, but you knew that the longer you went without explaining, the more hurt Paul would feel.

“I wasn’t lying when I said it was for physical therapy,” you whispered. “I have other ones. All different sizes.” You realized you might not have been helping your case with this.

“I don’t understand. Why do you need them if you don’t use them to get off?” He looked like a kicked puppy.

“Well… I have this thing. It’s like… a condition? And I need them so maybe one day I can have sex without any pain.” He still looked wildly confused, and you knew you were going to have to elaborate. “When I first started having sex, it hurt. A lot. But I always heard that it was supposed to hurt the first time. So I just kind of put up with it. It was bad though. I always tapped out, couldn’t go for more than a couple minutes. It felt like this really intense stinging. Like a rugburn all inside me. And it didn’t stop, even after I started doing it more. It never went away… I ended up googling it, and it’s actually something that a lot of women struggle with. I made a doctor’s appointment and was lucky enough to get diagnosed the first time. Lots of women are told they’re making it up. My doctor gave me these dilators, told me how to use them, and said that with enough time and physical therapy, I could have painless sex one day.” When you finished, you turned to look at him. He was staring intently at the dilator, thinking.

“So, you have to like… stretch yourself? Were you just born too small?” He phrased it delicately, but you knew what he meant.

“Basically, it’s an anxiety disorder with very physical symptoms. My pelvic floor muscles constrict when I try to put anything inside me, which makes it super painful. It’s like an involuntary reflex. Like blinking when something flies near your face. And I have to condition my body to learn that penetration doesn’t hurt, and that it doesn’t have to tighten up like that. The condition is called vaginismus. You can google it yourself if you want.”

“Oh.” A pause. Paul knew you had some anxiety, but he never guessed it could cause something like this. He knew you were embarrassed. He could tell. And the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you couldn’t be open and vulnerable with him. Did you think he would leave you? Or get mad? “Why didn’t you tell me?” Was the question that came out.

“It’s humiliating. I could tell you were getting antsy about us not having sex, and I guess I didn’t have the heart to tell you that it’s not going to happen anytime soon. This physical therapy, it takes a while. I’ve already been doing it for almost a year, and I still have three sizes after this one.” A tear fell. You wiped it away quickly, hoping he Paul wouldn’t notice, but he did. He moved to wrap his arms around you, putting the dilator back on your nightstand. He embraced you, and the reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere was more than you could handle. You burst into tears as he pulled you onto his lap and rocked you both, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You guys stayed there until you stopped crying, and then he finally spoke.

“Y/N, I don’t ever want you to feel like there’s something you can’t tell me. I love you. And yeah, I would love to have sex with you one day, but I’m with you because of who you are. I don’t care if we never do it. You are my person, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you the happiest you can be. This? This thing you think is such a problem? It’s irrelevant to me. To my love for you. And I will be here every step of the way, supporting you, cheering you on, until you don’t want me anymore.” He brought your hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

“I love you, Paul,” was all you could say. You leaned in and shared the sweetest, most loving kiss either of you had ever experienced. His hand cupped the side of your face, thumb rubbing your cheek. When you pulled away, the tension in the room was gone, replaced with you and Paul’s usual light, fun energy.

“How do you use them?” He smiled as he asked, nodding his head towards your nightstand where the dilator still rested. “Do you like… just ride them? Or..?”

You laughed, which made his smile broaden. “It’s not a sexual thing. Basically I put a towel down, cover the dilator in lube, and put it in as far as I can without pain. Then, I just sit there and leave it for like 20 minutes. And then I take it out.”

“So you just like... do homework while you do it?” His concerned face made you laugh again.

“You have to make your body associate it with pleasure, so no, I don’t do homework. Normally I’ll watch a funny show or eat some candy or FaceTime you.”

He froze at this. “You do this when we FaceTime?”

This made you blush and look away from his piercing gaze. “Sometimes. I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable. It’s just a nice distraction.”

“No, no. I don’t want you to stop. It’s just… can I see you do it?” This question shocked you. Not just the question itself, but the fact that you didn’t hate the idea. You loved kissing Paul. What better way to associate therapy with pleasure than by kissing him while you do it?

“Are you sure? Like I said, it’s not exactly sexual. Or sexy. Like at all. I literally just sit there.”

“I know, it’s ok. I want to be able to help you, but if you don’t want to we can just go back to the movie.”

“I mean I do still have to do it today.” You thought for another second, before jumping up and saying “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Paul looked happy and excited, but also lost. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, or with his eyes. Did you want him to touch you? Or just watch you? Or just sit in the corner of the room and face the wall? You were spreading a towel across the middle of the bed, and went to untie your sweatpants before looking at him.

“Guess we haven’t really gotten this far, huh?” alluding to being naked in front of each other. It did make you a little nervous, and nerves equal tight muscles, which means pain.

“Why don’t you put a blanket over yourself? That way there’s less pressure,” he suggested, and you could have kissed him for it. You smiled, nodded, and grabbed a throw blanket from the chair. He turned around to face the wall while you took off your pants and settled under the blanket.

“Ok, I’m good.” you said. He turned back around, coming to kneel beside you on the bed.

“Do you want me to just… hold your hand? Or sit here and talk to you?”

“Would you want to sit behind me?” You suggested nervously, leaning forward slightly.

“Of course! Yeah, I can do that.” He took this seriously, and you appreciated that. This was a scenario you had thought about many times, and though you knew he wouldn’t be the type to ask you to have sex with him despite the pain, it was always a possibility. The fact that he didn’t take your pain lightly, and let you be in charge so you would be comfortable, meant more to you than he would ever know. Paul gently climbed behind you, putting his legs on either side of you, and hesitantly rubbing your shoulders. You leaned back into him, as if to say I’m okay with this.

“Can you hand me the… “ You nodded your head towards the nightstand, and Paul didn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence before he leaned over and grabbed the dilator and bottle of lube, holding them out in front of you both. You muttered a “thanks” as you took them from his hands, and brought them under the blanket. After slathering the dilator with a good amount of lube, you closed the bottle and tossed it towards the foot of the bed, leaning back and shifting your hips down. Paul clearly didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, so he was slow and careful as he wrapped his arms around your torso, giving you time to say stop. You didn’t, though. He felt your body tense slightly as you dragged the tip of the dilator around your entrance, so he started to rub his hands up and down your sides, kissing your cheek. You turned your head to look at him, and he met you with a sweet kiss. You guys pulled away slightly, before going back in as you began to push the dilator in further. He kissed you with love, tenderness, and care, so as not to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. It was clear that you had the reigns, and Paul would stop as soon as you gave the slightest indication that you were uncomfortable. The dilator was about half way in, and you felt a slight stinging sensation, but kissing Paul distracted you. You brought one hand up to cup the side of his face, pulling him back in.

Paul kept kissing you, waiting for your lips to part so he could brush his tongue against yours. This is normally where you would stop him, but he knew everything now. There was no expectation of more, and damn. Paul was a really good kisser. He sucked lightly at your lower lip, before nibbling it and letting it go, coming back in with his lips. The combination of Paul’s kisses, the slight heat they brought to your body, and the pressure of the tip of the dilator inside you had you shift your hips, and involuntarily let out a small moan. It was barely audible, but Paul and his super senses heard it. You pulled away and slapped a hand over your mouth, your face turning bright red. He chuckled deeply, the sound going straight to your body, and brought his hand up to pull your hand off your mouth. “Don’t you dare hide those sounds from me,” he teasingly whispered into your ear. You shivered, and Paul started to kiss your cheek, down your jaw, and onto your neck. He sucked on the soft skin, hands squeezing your waist and rubbing up and down. You wanted to try something. For the first time, dilating actually didn’t feel so obligatory, so mechanical and stiff. You pushed the dilator deeper in, just about a centimeter, but enough to give you that feeling you had moments ago. You let out a breathy sigh as you tilted your head to give Paul more room on your neck. He felt you shift your hips again, and brought one of his hands to rub circles on your lower stomach. Skin on skin. And it felt good.

You kept going like this for a few minutes, and Paul could feel your skin grow hotter by the second. Your back was arched, your neck covered in light red marks, and Paul had the intense desire to see you unravel. He brought his lips from your neck up to the side of your face, getting as close to eye contact as he could in this position, and said “Can I touch you?”

You knew what he meant. The thought of it made you nervous. No one had touched you without it hurting before. It was almost as if he read your mind when he followed with “I can just stay on the outside…” Oh. You could be down with that. You turned your head to him and nodded.

“Just try not to touch the dilator,” you said softly. You trusted Paul. He was already being so kind and patient with this, and you knew he would die before he would ever hurt you. The hand that had been rubbing circles on your stomach travelled lower. Lower. Lower. Until he could feel the slight stubble of a past shave, and then your soft, wet skin. You gasped as he touched your most sensitive parts, even more so because of how turned on you were. He gently made small, tight circles over your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head as you fell completely slack against him and let out a moan. A real moan, that Paul swore he would never forget. And he made you make that sound. It only spurred him on. He applied slightly more pressure, but not so much as to overwhelm you. And he knew that when girls were feeling good, the secret wasn’t faster or harder, but to keep doing exactly what you were doing. So that’s what he did, and it had you writhing. Your moans kept coming, and your legs had started to shake. However, because it felt so good, your muscles had started to clench around the dilator, and it was beginning to hurt.

You didn’t want to rain on the parade. It was going so well. But Paul being the attentive lover that he is, noticed you begin to tense up in a new way. He brought his hand back up to your stomach, concern racing through his brain, and asked “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

“It’s kind of starting to. Not you, the dilator. I think I might take it out.” You stared down at his hand still touching your stomach. Such beautiful hands. You didn’t want it to end.

“Do you want to try a smaller one? Or do you want to stop?” He questioned.

“I really don’t want to stop,” you laughed. He breathed a laugh as well, and waited for your direction. You had a thought. Paul’s index finger was smaller than the dilator. Much smaller. If you just told him what to do and what not to do, that could feel really good. “Would you want to maybe… Nevermind.” You got nervous.

“Hey, hey. No. Don’t do that. Tell me what you want,” He brought a finger up to your chin and moved your face towards him. “Tell me. Whatever it is, Princess. It’s yours.” Your whole body shuddered at this. He’s never called you that before, and to say it did something to you would be an understatement.

You let out a breath, gathering courage, and said “Would you want to… use your finger?”

He stopped at this. “Like, put my finger inside you? That wouldn’t hurt?”

“I don’t think so. It’s smaller than this,” you said, bringing the dilator out and up. “And as long as I tell you what to do, it could be really good,” you said the last part shyly.

“Okay, Princess. I can do that. How do you want me to do it?”

“Try to do more… pressure, and less… friction? Like try not to go in and out so much, but you can move it around inside.” Your face was once again blushing intensely.

“Anything you want. You just have to promise that you’ll tell me if it even hurts a little.”

“I promise.” You said it confidently enough that Paul brought his hand back down under the blanket. He circled your clit a couple times, making you shiver and release a breathy sigh, before moving his middle finger even lower, circling your entrance. He gathered some of the lube that was there from the dilator, coating his finger, and you brought your hand down to hold it, guiding it inside you at a speed that was comfortable. It was smaller than the dilator, so he was in you in 15 seconds. He stopped, and gave you a minute to adjust. Your hips writhed again because of how turned on you were, so Paul brought his other hand down and began circling your clit again. Your head fell back on his shoulder as you began to moan again, hips moving even more now. Paul took this as his queue to press his middle finger up against your inner wall lightly, causing a loud moan to leave your mouth. You were too far gone to be embarrassed.

“There you go, baby,” he praised. God, this was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He was barely touching you, barely moving his finger inside you, and you were a mess. He had been rock hard since you guys started, but your ass was rubbing against him as you moved your hips, and he released a small growl at the feeling. This only turned you on more. He kept moving his finger in you the same way. Pressure, not friction. Pressure, not friction. He kept telling himself this. He wanted to finger bang you into oblivion, but the risk of hurting you was too high, so he kept up with rubbing the tip of his finger against that spot on your upper wall, in a “come-hither” motion. Your moans began to get higher in pitch, your body tensing even more.

“Relax your muscles for me, sweetheart,” he encouraged, and you did. Your release was approaching rapidly, and you wanted to grind against his hand, but you didn’t want to risk pain, so you trusted Paul to get you there. You were panting, hips shuddering, face scrunched, as your climax hit you like a wave. Your legs shook as you opened your mouth in a silent scream, and Paul carried you all the way through it. You came down, and lightly grabbed his wrists. He knew that that meant stop. So he slowly withdrew his finger, brought it up to his mouth, and sucked on it. Head still up in the clouds, you watched him, slack-jawed, as he popped his finger out and moaned. “So sweet,” he purred. Watching him suck on his finger like that made you think of something you’d like to suck on, and you looked down at Paul, still rock hard, and turned around in his lap.

“Let me return the favor,” you said with a smirk.

#twilight #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote smut #wolf pack #seth clearwater #embry call #quil ateara #sam uley #jacob black #jared cameron #robert pattinson #bella swan #edward cullen #vaginismus #dilating #paul lahote x reader smut #twilight smut

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neesieiumz · 3 years

Text

6 Months {Izuku Midoriya x Reader}

(Pro-hero!Izuku Midoriya x Former Pro-hero!Reader)

[PART ONE] [PART TWO]

L E A V E.

Summary: You were done. Done with everything. So what do you do? You move on. What's new? What's old? And who makes an even bigger space in your heart?

A/n: So this isn't based on another song, well technically it's still based on Sorry, but it's more like a part two to sorry than it being it's own separate part, you feel me? I know it took longer than expected, but there were so many paths I wanted to take and I didnt feel like rushing it. I really wanted to focus on flashbacks for this final part, your decision to leave the pro-hero scene, when Izuku and Melissa started to see each other... etc... I always made a gateway... in case I wanted to continue you and someone else's romance if I ever felt like it... So enjoy!

Support me on Kofi! Commissions are open!

Word Count: 8.0k

Warnings: Implied NFSW, but no deed is actually done, light drinking, (all in good fun)

___

Falling into your mother’s arms, you spilled everything from last night and this morning. On how you eavesdropped on his conversation, the confrontations from both this morning and at the brunch. Your father wasn’t home, left earlier this morning for his job. Both you and your brother moved out not too long after high school, him going on to college to become an engineer, and you moving into an apartment with Mina and Jirou while you worked for the same hero agency. Your mother was your closest confidant, she was the only one who could come to mind to tell her about what happened. She just held you, rocking you as you cried, cried about your broken marriage, and seeing the girl your husband abandoned you for. You cried about how both she, your dad, and your brother were right. How you should have never listened to him about giving up everything you worked so hard for. She held you in her loving arms, whispering sweet things in your ear.

“I should have listened to you,” you sobbed, holding one of the throw pillows close to you as you sat up on your couch, leaving her hold on you.

Your dress was bunched up to your knees so you pulled the wrinkled material out from under you as you shifted around on your mother’s leather couch. She pulled you into one last hug, the warm embrace making silent tears fall down your face. Your mom pushed the braids falling out of your now-loose bun from your tear-stricken face. Continuing to caress your face slowly, her slightly rough hands provided a familiar comfort from your childhood.

“This is not your fault, you can not blame yourself for his infidelity, nor can you blame yourself for sticking by your husband’s side and decisions. You did what you thought was right and absolutely no one can give you shit for believing in your marriage.” Her soft voice provides extra comfort to you.

“WHAT?!?”

You were in your family home, six years ago. You still had a couple of bandages around your face and arms. Recently, you just completed physical therapy, nearly regaining full control over your limbs. The fight you had was brutal, nearly leveled the entire city. However, you came out successful from it, even if it put you out of commission for over a year. However, since you’ve woken up, you and Izuku have been having intense conversations about the two of you and your futures together, which led you to the decision you’ve made today.

“YOU’RE RETIRING?!?!” Your brother yelled, standing up swiftly out of his chair.

You took a deep breath, keeping your head down as you nodded your head. It was just you, your parents, and your brother here, Izuku currently being in the top 25 heroes, had a lot of work to do so he could join you as you broke the news to them.

“Izuku and I have been talking and seeing how fast he’s going in the Hero Charts. This incident caused us to do some major thinking. The two of us worrying about each other on the job isn’t healthy. Having two heroes in a relationship, especially two who are going as high in the ranks as us as quickly as we are. Considering how there are a lot more people expecting Izuku to go higher since he’s All Might’s prodigy. So, I’ll be retiring and helping Izuku with his career from the sidelines.”

You let out another deep breath as you finished your monologue, your fingers twitching in your lap. You knew this was a decision your family wasn’t going to agree with, after all, it’s not like you don’t have your legacy to meet up with. Your mother, before Miruko, was the highest-ranked female pro hero in all of Japan. You had her legacy to go after since your brother decided to go into the family business with pro-hero gear.

“You can’t be serious!! After everything, you’ve worked for?!?! You’re just gonna give it up BECAUSE IZUKU SAID SO?!”

Your brother was the most pissed, after all, it was always both you and his plan that the two of you would live up to our parent’s legacy. He would become the best support gear inventor and you would become the best pro hero. So saying this puts a damper on the dreams you both had.

“You had one bad fight with a villain, but the doctors said you’re going to be cleared right?” You nodded your head at his question, “so why? Why would you need to retire after that one fight?!”

“Izuku proposed.”

Gasps of shock flew from heri mouths, you smiled sadly as you pulled your hand from under the other, revealing the small, silver ring with the pure cut diamond sitting perfectly in the middle of it.

“He’s the love of my life, and he’s the man who I want to spend the rest of my life with… to have kids with. We both understand how difficult this job is, and we both know how much I wanted to become a pro hero, but since he’s my endgame… something had to give. And so I did.”

Next was your father, having raised you since you were 3 years old. He saw how much you looked up to your mother, and to your grandmother as well. You come from a line from female pro heroes, and it was always your dream to continue that. He’s always supported you throughout the years, remembering all the times the two of you would work in his workshop on new hero gear, both with your brother and without as well.

“Y/n, don’t you think you’re rushing into this decision? This is everything you’ve been working for, and you’re gonna throw it away?”

“I know your concerns but this is for the best for me and him. I know being a pro hero was what I wanted, but…” you trailed off, looking away from your trembling hands.

Your mother, who was sitting beside you, could only stare at your trembling hands. Almost reminds her of the time she told her mother who she was marrying. How nervous she was, not because she was putting her career on the back burner, but because of what happened the last time she decided to pursue a romantic relationship with someone. She got you out of it, but it was still a painful journey. She took a deep breath, before shifting herself to where you were. She placed her hand on top of your own, making you look down at them before slowly turning your head to look at her.

“Are you happy?”

The question caught everyone off guard, their heads turning towards your mother. You slowly nodded your head, smiling at all the memories you’ve made with Izuku. When you first met as a transfer student, your first date and everything else.

“Yeah Mom, I’m happy.”

You took a deep breath, leaning forward as you shook the memory out of your head.

Meanwhile, your mom tried to lighten the mood, “Well, let’s hope your father doesn’t get to him… you know he doesn’t play about you… or your brother either.”

“He won’t be able to land a hit on him unless Izuku lets him.”

“Well, he better let him then!”

You laughed out loud at that, throwing your head back against the back of the couch. You could feel your mom get off the couch, leaning up as she headed to the dining table. Looking through the papers stacked on the wooden table, she pulled out a business card before walking back to where you were still seated on the couch. Your mom sat back down in her original seat, before handing you the same card of laminated cardboard paper.

Renai Miya, divorce attorney at law.

“Renai is a good friend of mine, she gave me that in case anyone I knew was getting advice soon. I’m sure she didn’t expect my daughter but I’m sure she’ll be able to help you out.”

You looked over at your mother, who just gave you another knowing smile. She just rubbed at your shoulders in comfort as you pulled out your phone.

---

Izuku was sitting at his office, ignoring the texts from both Shoto and Katsuki. After the argument and confrontation from this morning, he decided to stay in the office today and complete some overdue paperwork. Typing away on his computer, his mind began to shift from the email he was sent to the hero commission to the argument that happened between him, Kacchan, and Shoto.

“I’m sorry, YOUR WIFE JUST TRIED TO KILL YOU! We don’t know what would have happened if we hadn't come when we did!” Katsuki yelled, throwing his jacket off of his body.

“Izuku, this is a serious matter. We need to know what happened,” Shoto explained next, kneeling in front of Izuku’s crouching figure.

Izuku just shook his head, diving his head into the insides of his elbows. Shoto and Katsuki looked at each other, the concern shining in their eyes. They looked back at their trembling friend, who was now starting to rock back and forth while whispering “I fucked up.” over and over again.

“Izuku,” Katsuki started tentatively, “what did you do?”

Izuku stopped trembling and his rocking ceased as he raised his head slowly, locking eyes with his childhood friend. Katsuki’s leg began moving up and down in anticipation, waiting for him to say something.

“I don’t want to report this, trust me. So just pretend you never saw that.” That was all he said before standing up, pushing past them.

Izuku shook his head, focusing back on his emails. He sent the long paragraph he was typing, after making sure there were grammatical or spelling errors. He then leaned back against his office chair, throwing his head back. A gross, yet very familiar feeling was arising from his stomach, it was slimy, it was painful, it was guilt. He felt guilty, remembering how his wife looked at him at breakfast and right before she left. How the look in her eyes felt more painful than other villains could ever inflict on him.

Closing his eyes, his mind slowly drifted to a memory, a memory from three months ago.

It was dark, and Izuku was tired, so very tired from the shift he worked. However, he needed to do this. He needed to end whatever the hell he and Melissa had. The way they were conversing over private messages was getting too much. In a week would be his wedding Anniversary, and how his wife, Y/n, surprised him, reminded him about what he and Melissa had.

And how wrong it was.

He wore a black, sleeveless turtleneck, paired with a dark coat along with dark jeans. He had fake glasses on his face and his curly was positioned to cover his face so people wouldn’t recognize him. He kept his head forward as he approached the apartment complex Melissa mentioned she was moving into. After living on I-island for all of her life, she wanted a change of pace, especially since what happened with her father way back when. So she got a job as a top hero support inventor at the company where Izuku got his extra gear from. Since it’s also where Hatsume worked as well. He opened the door and walked into the lobby. He looked around the expensive-looking area, seeing the receptionist, and only one other person sitting on the complementary couch talking on the phone. He walked to the receptionist, who greeted him with a smile.

“Are you here to see someone?”

He nodded and gave his fake name, the one he told Melissa he’d be using, along with the apartment number that she gave him. The receptionist simply smiled before typing in her computer, before reaching over to the phone and pressing a couple of the buttons. Izuku could hear someone pick up, a muffled voice through the phone.

“Yes, Ms. Shield, A Iseada L/n is here to see you.”

Izuku took a deep breath, hearing the fake name he gave along with his wife’s maiden name. The receptionist gave off acknowledging hums to the person on the phone, who Izuku knew was Melissa. He rocked himself against his heels, feeling his fingers twitch around in his pockets.

“Alright, I’ll send him right up!” She ended the call, placing the phone back in its holder.

She then smiled at Izuku before pointing at the elevators behind him, “you can use an elevator. Ms. Shield lives on the fifth floor.”

Izuku nodded and thanked her before turning around to the elevators. He picked on towards the left and stepped inside of it, waiting for it to close before choosing the button that said “five.” The doors closed as generic elevator music played throughout the rising mechanical box. Izuku sighed, pulling off the fake glasses, before pushing his curls out of his face.

Third floor…

Fourth floor…

The elevator dinged as the door opened, revealing the fifth floor. Izuku stepped out of the elevator, using the signs on the walls to find his way to Melissa’s apartment. Walking past all the other doors, of the patrons of the apartment, who were currently sleeping to the world. Unaware that their number one hero was sneaking past them, claiming to be ending an illicit relationship.” Seeing the apartment number up ahead, Izuu could feel his heart beat faster. Taking another deep breath, he stopped right in front of the pitch-black door. Swallowing his spit, he closed his eyes before knocking on the door a couple of times. Almost immediately after he knocked, the door opened, causing Izuku’s eyes to shoot open, jumping back a little as Melissa stepped into the doorframe. Izuku was about to speak when his eyes drifted down to what she was wearing. It was a simple white t-shirt, ending right at her upper thigh. Izuku licked his dry lips, before looking back up at Melissa’s face who was giving him a knowing smile, that looked smug as well.

“Izuku,” her usually peachy tone came out a little subtle, silky and sultry, “I’m so happy to see you after so long. Come in.”

Izuku simply nodded as Messlia stepped to the side, allowing him to enter her expensive apartment, which could be classified as a penthouse. Izuku looked around, his eyes landing on all the decorations around her living room. He walked toward her wall, where she hung pictures. There were pictures of Melissa with her dad, her mom, All Might, and a couple of her friends from I-island. He continued looking around, before his eyes landing on a picture of the two of them, back when he was a first-year.

“You were so short back then,” Izuku heard Melissa say, as she came to stand next to him.

Izuku just nodded, continuing to look at the frames. He was enveloped in the nostalgia he was facing when he didn’t even notice Melissa coming up behind him. He only noticed her when he felt a hand coming up around his waist. He froze, his heart pounding away in his ears. She then stood right behind him, before pressing up against his back next, her hands now circling his waist.

“Melissa…” he started, feeling her fingers mess with his zipper and belt under his overcoat jacket.

God, was she wearing anything under that shirt? He could feel her breasts, her hardened nipples pressing against his back. He took another deep breath, licking his lips before moving his hands to where her own was and prying them off his belt, just as she was beginning to unbuckle it.

“Melissa, we can’t do this. I’m married. Happily married at that. I can’t keep doing this to her.”

Melissa only hummed, moving her body from behind his own, stepping in front of him. She was wet, her long wavy dripping down her face and body. The water from her wet hair dripped onto her shirt, her white, very thin shirt. Izuku’s breath hitched as he slowly glanced down her body, her nipples visibly being shown through the fabric.

“Yet, you can’t keep your eyes off me Izuku.” Hands grabbed at his jacket, pulling him closer to her.

Izuku gasped as Melissa brought her hand, cupping his face before bringing it down. Izuku gasped once again as he felt lips upon his own, feeling her other hand reach inside his jacket to pull him closer by the waist. Izuku was about to push her away, he needed to push her away. God, he was married for fucks sake, to someone who loved him dearly. But her lips, they felt so good to him. Glossed from the shower she took, they tasted of mint and strawberries. Izuku, taking a deep breath, went to push off his jacket, never letting go of the kiss. Mellissa, smirking into the kiss, helped him out of the jacket before squealing as Izuku scooped her up before slamming her on the wall.

“This is a one-time thing,” he mumbled against her lips, using his hips to hold her up against the wall as he took off his shirt next.

“Yeah…” Mellissa said with a skeptical tone, feeling his hands go under her wet shirt next.

“A one-time thing…”

Izuku groaned, throwing the papers in his hands across his desk. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself out of his desk. He stood up from out of his chair, walking over to the wall which was replaced with windows, looking down upon the city of Mustafa. He could hear the faint sounds of cars driving and honking, he could see the civilians, everyone he protects. Looking across the street, he could see a cafe. It was one that he frequents since it’s so close. The door opened, and it revealed a couple. A laughing couple. The man was holding a medium-sized bag, with the logo of the cafe plastered across the bag. He was wearing a dark brown suede jacket that was buttoned shut. The woman was wearing a matching jacket, wearing as a dress, her curly hair pulled up in a bun. She held their coffees as they walked along the sidewalk. Izuku smiled sadly, before looking over to the couch in his office.

Laughter rang out inside the office, the sun had already gone down a long time ago and the night shift heroes were all out patrolling, leaving Izuku, a couple of sidekicks, and a couple of more janitors. It was your anniversary, but unfortunately, a string of villain attacks happened today. This pulled Deku out of his day off and kept him away. So, you decided to surprise me with dinner at his office. You cooked shrimp alfredo, packing it in pretty containers, before stopping by a couple of stores, buying a fancy cake that said “Happy Anniversary.” The last thing you bought was some expensive alcohol, a bottle of wine and champagne just in case. She then dressed up, a dark green silk dress paired with a matching coat and heeled shoes. She brought a few decorations before carrying all of that, using your clouds. Izuku smiled once he walked into the office with everything, abandoning his work and helped you set up the table.

The two of you enjoyed dinner together, talking about your day, specifically on how Izuku was swamped with back-to-back villain attacks. To the point where he was the same police officer twice in two different scenes. After dinner, the two of you move to the couch, still holding your wine glasses now filled with champagne.

“I have a gift for you,” Izuku mentioned, pushing himself up off the couch before going behind his desk, going through the drawers.

You giggled, shifting around the couch to get a little more comfortable, your jacket long discarded. Izuku hissed out a “here it is!”, before pulling out a neatly wrapped box, closing the drawer with his foot. You took another sip of your bubbly alcohol as Izuku skipped over to you with the box in hand.

“Here you go, darling!”

You smiled, placing your glass on the small lamp table to the right of you before sitting up and taking the box from your husband. He smiled at you as he sat beside you, seeing you begging to open up the carefully placed wrapping paper. Once all the wrapping paper was removed from the box, you gasped, seeing the logo on the box. BVLGARI. A smile slowly appeared on your face as you untied the golden silk ribbon. Slowly lifting the top of the box, you pulled out of the pure white tissue paper. This revealed one of the most beautiful necklaces and earrings you’ve ever seen. It was an emerald necklace, it had two emeralds, and also was decorated with mini diamonds along the border, and considering the brand, you knew it was real. The earrings were dangly and matched the way the smaller emerald looked on the necklace.

“Izuku… it’s beautiful…”

He smiled, taking the box out of your hands before taking the necklace out of the box. He whispered at you to turn around. Following his instructions, you swept your goddess braids to the side as he placed the necklace around your neck, the cool feeling of the metal tingly against your warm skin. Izuku then connected the chain, letting the necklace fall against your nape before leaning over your shoulder and placing a light kiss on top of her almost-bare shoulder. You shuddered, leaning into his touch as his hands moved from your shoulders, trailing down your body to rest them on your hips. You let out a moan, feeling him give your neck a nip, reaching up to grab him by his messy curls. You smirked, before sighing into the neck kisses he was leaving on your neck.

“You smell,” he inhaled slowly, “really fucking good.”

Giggling at his words, you placed your own hands on top of his own before turning around. You lifted yourself off the chair. Izuku lifted an eyebrow as you placed your hands behind your back.

“I have a gift for you too, it’s not a material gift but…” you trialed off as you reached up the straps of your dress, before beginning to slowly pull them down, revealing the thin straps of your expensive lingerie.

Izuku’s eyes sparkled as your dress trailed down your body, revealing the expensive material cut and crafted to fit your body perfectly. The way the emerald green clashed perfectly with your deeper skin. Your manicured hands trailed down your body as your dress pooled at your feet, leaving you in nothing but the sinful lingerie and the heels to match. Izuku licked his bottom lip as you slowly walked over to him, dragging your heels with each step. Lifting yourself, you slowly placed yourself on his lap, feeling Izuku’s hands immediately attach themselves to your hips. He gave you a sly smile, looking up at you.

“And you look so amazing,” he gave your body another glance, making you smirk and lean back, using your arms and hands to steady you.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck before diving into a kiss. His lips tasted of mint and strawberries, it was a new taste but one you didn’t mind. Deepening the kiss, you gasped as you felt Izuku’s hard on all the way through his pants.

“I love you so much, Izuku Midoriya.”

A moment of silence went by.

“I love you too, Y/n Midoriya.”

Izuku took a deep breath and was about to open the next one when his phone, his personal one, started ringing. He reached in the drawer and pulled it out and looked at the screen. Sweetheart was calling, a picture of you and Izuku at your wedding anniversary plastered across the screen. Izuku was less blacked up back then, and you still had a crutch from your physical therapy from your incident. But god did you both look so beautiful and happy. Izuku was wearing his suit from the wedding but without the jacket and a couple of buttons unfastened. You, however, changed out of your wedding dress into a white velvet dress that was strapless and came with these long gloves in the similar fabric that you only wore for official pictures. Izuku was carrying you bridal style along with the rest of you and his family and his closest friends.

Izuku simply smiled sadly, before answering the call.

“Y/n?”

He heard nothing at first, nothing but the phone static so he called out your name again. This time he heard someone take a deep, trembling breath as if they had been crying for a long time.

“Izuku.” Your voice was scratchy, and hoars too. Izuku could feel his heartbreak and drop to his ass all at the same time. He did that.

God he was supposed to be a hero, save people and never let them down.

Now he may have just ruined his marriage.

“Y/n.” He said again, “how- how are you?”

“I’ve called a divorce lawyer.”

Oh. Straight to the bullet.

“We can’t- we can’t talk about this?”

“What’s there to talk about? You did this to me. You did this to us. Now face the fucking consequences of your actions.” Your voice was scratchy, the rasp appearing with each word you say.

“I know what I did.”

“And yet, you still did it.”

Izuku took a deep breath, leaning back into his chair. He looked up at the ceiling of his office, looking at the dazzling, overhanging chandelier in the middle of it.

“So there’s nothing I can say or do to convince you to stay?”

“You can have the house, as long as you pay me alimony for the next two-three years, for a reasonable price of course.”

You completely ignored his question, going straight into what was going to happen next. Izuku took another deep breath, this time leaning against his hand as he placed his elbow, pointed up, against his desk.

“So this is it?”

“This is it, Izuku. I told myself I would never lessen myself for a man, and I already broke that when I quit my job. I’m not gonna keep doing that to myself.”

“I-I love you.”

You gave off an airy chuckle as if you couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. And with that you ended the call, those being one of the last words you’ll be saying to him until the meetings between the two of you and your divorce lawyers.

---

“Y/n?” A muffled voice called out, pulling you out of your sleep along with knocks on your door

You pushed yourself off the bed, throwing the hotel blankets off your body. It was late at night, you went back home after your impromptu visit with your mother. You packed up what you could in one go before stuffing it in your car. You couldn’t see Izuku after that, so you tried your best to remove any trace of yourself from that house. You were just about to fall asleep, the tv playing a random 90s show for background noise. Digging through one of your suitcases, you found a robe to wrap around your body before moving towards the door.

You summoned lightning in one hand as you checked who was at the door. Seeing red-and-white hair, along with a bright blue eye and a dull grey eye, you took a deep sigh of relief before slowly opening the door. Standing there, wearing a raincoat and holding a closed umbrella was Shoto Todoroki. His hair that grew since high school was pulled back in a ponytail as he looked down upon with concerned eyes.

“Y/n…”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as he said your name. You then opened them back up before giving him a sad smile.

“Shoto… can I help you?” You leaned against the doorway, placing a hand in your waist.

“I heard from Izuku, the two of you are getting a divorce?”

You leaned into the hallway, looking to see if anyone saw him before pulling him into your hotel room. You closed the door and locked it behind you immediately before turning on the light. Shoto looked around the luxury rented room, seeing all of your suitcases and other items stacked up against a wall. Feeling your hands tremble, you sat on your bed, folding your hands underneath themselves.

“How did-“ your voice came out raspy and dry, so you cleared your throat before speaking again.

“How did you find me? I didn’t tell anyone where I was.”

Shoto simply smiled, “being the #3 hero has its perks. I figured you didn’t want a lot of people crowding around you so I said I’d talk to you.”

Hearing that, you lifted your head swiftly, “people already know about the divorce?”

Shot shrugged off his raincoat, revealing the long sleeve black turtleneck he was wearing. He placed his umbrella in a random corner before going to sit beside you on the bed.

“After what happened this morning, Izuku only told us that you’re leaving him… and wouldn’t tell us why. We called everyone, Uraraka, Iida, Kirishima, we even called his mom and All Might… all he said was that his marriage was over. No reason as to why…”

You let out a slight chuckle, your shoulders jumping slightly at the irony of the situation.

“So the only person you could come to was me, right?”

Shoto simply nodded his head, shifting his body closer to you.

“Y/n… I know you… you aren’t this rash person. You wouldn’t come to this decision on a whim. I thought you and Izuku were okay?”

Taking a deep breath, you spoke, “I thought we were okay too… Shoto I… he…”

Your body shuddered and shook as sobs flew out of your mouth. As tears fell, you covered your face and turned away from Shoto, hunching over yourself. That’s when you feel hands, one warm and the other cold, pull at you, grabbing at your waist before pulling you into a warm body. Shoto’s comforting hands and his placing you on the fireside of his body allowed him to let it all out once again. He didn’t say a word, only letting out soft shushes in your ear as you continued to cry.

You could hear nothing else other than the air conditioning and your cries echo throughout your room. It felt like an eternity before you slowly started to quiet down. Taking a deep breath, you slowly pushed yourself out of Shoto’s hold before getting up to get a water bottle. Shoto, his eyes still shining with concern, said nothing as you twisted the cap open and drank half the bottle.

As the pudding of your head slowly went away, you placed the bottle on the desk before sitting back on the bed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry my eyes out all over you,” you apologized, grabbing one of the pillows to hold closer to your body.

Shoto shook his head, waving off your concerns, “it’s okay, it’s black anyways.”

You just nodded your head and looked away.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong? Why are you and Izuku getting a divorce?”

You took a deep breath, your mind racing with everything you’ve been through… the day you met Izuku, the day you asked him out for the first time, the day he asked to be your girlfriend, the day he proposed… the day you two got married… everything.

“Izuku… he cheated on me…”

It was silent after that, the buzz of the air conditioning and the beeps of the cars below the two of you filling the tense air.

“He… he what?”

You bit your bottom lip as you spoke again, “he cheated on me, with Mellissa, you remember her right? Melissa Shield? All Might’s “niece”?”

Shoto nodded his head, shifting his body to face forward as he leaned forward, using his hands to steady himself. He lifted his head to the ceiling as he fully processed your words.

“Oh… oh wow… I never thought that he would do that.”

You scoffed, flopping back into the bed, “well me neither, and yet… here we are.”

You started to laugh, laugh at this situation, laugh at here you are now. God, everything was so fucked, wasn’t it? Feeling the bed shift, you could feel Shoto lay down on the bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you before pulling you into him once again, this time leaving you on his right side so you could cool down. The feeling left sighing, leaning into his touch even more.

“Izuku is an absolute idiot, and I’m glad that you’re leaving him at the first sight of disrespect.”

Coming from Todoroki and his background, those meant a lot to you. You smiled before lifting your head to look at him.

“Thanks, Shoto, that means a lot.”

He smiled, before slowly removing his hands from your waist.

“I should let you sleep, I just wanted to come to check up on you.” He bent over to grab at his umbrella before turning around to grab his raincoat.

Sniffling, you nodded your head, wiping away your tears before getting up to see him off, “thanks for coming to check up on me… even though the way you found me was a little creepy.”

—-

You officially divorced three months after that day, Izuku tried to hold out as long as he could but soon enough even the number one hero couldn't hold out that long. The number of times you had to tell him you weren't going to come back to him was astounding, his stubbornness knew no bounds. You allowed Izuku to keep the house and he was to pay you a hefty amount of alimony along with the money he was to pay you for spousal distress.

When news came out that the number one hero and his wife would be divorcing, the media went into a frenzy. Even bigger than the one about your wedding. You had to rely on your family to help you out until the news and paparazzi left you alone. It was even worse on Deku, being the top hero and not even able to save his marriage? Talk about a blow to his reputation, it almost cost him the #1 spot. If it wasn't for the Incident at the Kasona Mall, where a villain decided to blow up a mall, where he saved over 50 people in one swoop, Bakugo would have finally been able to claim that #1 spot.

Speaking of pro-heroes.

H/n is back on the scene! Officially signing with The Todoroki Agency!!

You were a pro-hero again, stepping back into the spotlight after over six years. After not much deliberation, and encouragement from friends alike, you decided to come out of retirement once more. You had to retake the licensing process and test of course, but you passed with ease. Being a hero was almost like riding a bike, it was ingrained within you. After The Hero Commission reinstated you, you got so many offers. From Fatgum to LeMillion, and Gang Orca. However, you already promised a certain person that you would join up with him.

“You sure you want me Shoto?” You were sitting in his penthouse, visiting him after he got hurt in the Incident at Kasona mall.

The two of you had gotten closer ever since that day he found you in your hotel room. He helped you get back on your feet, helped you pick out a new house to live in, (since you left the house to Izuku), and helped you study to retake the test. He nodded, shifting his position on his couch. The movement however, caused him to wince as he had to move his arm, which slung into a cast. You immediately got up and helped him move into a more comfortable position without straining himself. He thanked you for the help as you sat back down, grabbing your glass of wine.

“Yeah, you were an amazing hero when you were active years ago. I know this is a decision I’ll lose no sleep over.”

You chuckled, sipping on the wine he put out for the two of you. He smiled softly at you, his intense stare causing your body to heat up slightly, or that could be from the alcohol, you honestly didn't know. You licked your lips, shifting your legs to help lessen that heated throb between your thighs.

“Alright, I guess I’m joining your agency.”

You grew out of your old outfit, so with the help of Hatsume and other designers, you got a whole new outfit. Instead of the original leotard/bodysuit you had when you were younger, along with the thigh boots, it all connected into all one large jumpsuit. It was black with purple accents adorning all across the outfit along with a brand new cape. You turned around, summoning clouds to lift you as you twirled around. Hatsume, the designer who made your new hero costume, Hokkaido, and Mina, who you also told about the true reason you and Izuku got divorced, all smiled as you felt out your new outfit.

“Well?” Mina asked, smiling as you landed on your feet.

You turned around, trailing your hands down your body, feeling the aft fabric and metal accents clash together on your body before smiling at yourself in the mirror.

“I love it.”

Your office was on the same floor as Shoto’s, him constantly relying on your knowledge and wisdom on other matters. The two of you were the leaders in the recent missions the two of you had taken together. This whole process was a lot like riding a bike, coming back easily. You had missed this, you had missed this so much, and you could tell the world and missed you too.

The media accepted your return with open arms, jumping right back to the top 20s. You were a very powerful hero after all.

After three months of coming back, making it six months since your divorce, your parents decided to throw a party for you. To celebrate you coming back, and ranking high on the Billboard Chart in so little time. You tried to get yourself out of it but they took no excuses. So you decided to make the most of it, you felt like a whole new woman. Placing your braids in a bun, you wore a strapless black velvet dress with matching long-sleeved gloves. You slipped on some ankle-strap, black stilettos, and pearl jewelry set to complete the look. The party was small but it was filled with life, all of your old classmates and even your old co-workers from your old agency even came. Mina, Jirou, Tsu, and even Yaomomo, as busy as she is, came. Kirishima even got Bakugou to come. Everyone was so excited to see you come out of retirement and take to the streets again. Some did try to pry into your broken relationship with Izuku, but you just ignored them and told them to enjoy themselves at the party.

“Y/n.”

You turned around to see Shoto standing there with two champagne flutes in his hands. You smiled and walked up to him, hands extended out for a hug. He wrapped his arms around the best he could with the two drinks in his hands. You giggled at his struggle as he tried to step back without spilling the drinks.

“I see your hands are full, Boss.” You winked as you took one of the flutes of champagne out of his hands.

He just chuckled as you guys cheered, clinking your glasses together before taking a sip. As the sweet liquid hit your tongue, your eyes trailed down his body at the suit he was wearing. All black suit with the jacket, with a white dress shirt, red tie and tailored to perfection. You licked your lips as he breathed in, seeing his chest press up against the white fabric. Clearing your throat, you pulled your eyes away from his chest as you looked up at him finishing his drink. You smiled at him and he returned it as he placed the glasses on an empty table.

“You seem so much happier.” You heard Shoto comment behind you.

You turned to face him and couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

Shoto walked up to you, the proximity between you two making your heart pound this a little faster. He leaned down, using his right hand to make you look in his eyes.

“When you first announced your retirement, and when I saw you after that… I do not doubt that you were happy but…” he trailed, his grip on your chin tightening slightly.

“But… but what?” You let out a whisper, feeling his thumb softly move against your skin.

“There was still this sadness in your eyes, that I could never pinpoint but now… I can’t see it at all.” He let go of you after that, taking a couple of steps back.

You took another deep breath, pressing a hand against your chest to feel your beating heart.

Smiling at Shoto, “thank you, that means a lot.”

The two of you continued to drink together, whether it be champagne or something stronger. The more the drinks came around you two, the two of you drank, and the more you two drank, the more handsy the two of you got. Shoto’s arms never left your waist and would find themselves trailing lower and lower down your body. You would find ways and excuses to slowly caress his face or his chest. The two of you would just get closer and closer. Luckily, most everyone around was drunk so even if they did notice, it was unlikely that they would notice. Soon enough, people began to leave, wishing you the best of luck and congratulations.

Then it was just the two of you. Shoto, despite being as drunk as you are, helped carry you to your bed upstairs. As he laid you in the bed, you reached out to him, pulling him down onto you and your bed. You giggled as he flopped on his back, allowing you to quickly straddle him.

“Y/n,” he giggled, he was more emotional, happy drunk, “Y/n why are you doing?”

You smiled, licking and biting at your lips as your hands trailed down his body. Feeling at his chest, before trailing down his abs, your hands and fingers going ever ripple and ridge on his body before landing right in the top of his pelvic area, feeling his hard-on poke out through his slacks. You hissed slowly as you began to rock into him, your dress riding up with every movement you made. Your movements caused him to whisper curses under his breath, his hips buck as he grabbed onto your waist tightly. You gripped at his shoulders as he guided you up and down his waist, his touch leaving your skin electrified, the opposite temperatures causing trembles throughout your body. You then leaned down to plant light kisses against his neck

“You’re so fucking handsome,” you whispered against his skin, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his dress shirt.

He just smirked before flipping you on your back, using his knee to spread your legs.

——

It was a week after the party and you had just gotten back from your shift of patrol. It was early in the morning, say almost 4 am, and you were ready to go home and get some sleep. Saying goodbye to your sidekick, you walked towards your office to get some final papers before going home. As you opened the door, you could feel dull light entering your vision. So you turned and followed where it was coming from only to find yourself right outside of Shoto’s door. That’s where you could hear the argument.

“Izuku I—”

“NO— I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU, YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH MY EX-WIFE!”

“I think you’re the last person to be concerned about what she does now!”

“You’re one of my closest friends, I’ve known you the longest! And you just stab me in the back like this!?”

“I think that you should leave Izuku before I make you. What Y/n and I have, it’s none of your business.”

You could hear a slam, and hear something break before hearing heavy stomps echo throughout the room. You hoped it didn’t come to them full-on fighting, you knew Shoto could handle himself against, however, when Izuku was mad, Lord did he get mad. You hope you won't have to face him again, after all this time.

“I don’t want to hear a word you have to say!! I should have known, you’ve ALWAYS been chasing after her! Since our time at U.A!

You tilted your head at that, confused at what he meant. Shoto has been chasing after you since high school? You thought that Shoto always had a thing for Yaomomo, despite her and Jirou getting engaged recently. It was because of that, you believed Shoto had shifted his focus onto you…

“So what? I thought I left her in good hands, out of all my friends, you were the ONLY one that I thought could give her a good life. I thought you could love her and only be with her! Now I see that I couldn’t even trust you with that! So you don’t get to decide how she spends her time and who she spends it with! Not after what you did to her!”

It went quiet after that, but you could still see the heavy breathing out of both of them. You bit your lip, heart pounding as you grasped at the wall, staring to hear to see if they speak under their breath.

“What… what are you talking about?”

“She told me… she told me what you did... How you cheated on her with Melissa. Don’t give me that look, I’m not gonna tell anyone. She asked me not to, it’ll do no one any good if it got all. They’ll just hound her for months for this.”

You could feel your body begin to rock back and forth, you could feel the tension rising all the way from the place where you would stand.

“So I say again, you have no right to have any say about what she does in her own time. Even when she was married to you, she was never yours! She’s her own woman, and after being suffocated by you, she deserves to do whatever she wants. I’ll be here, no matter what, and I’ll stick by her because that’s what people who truly love someone do!”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, you could feel tears swell in your waterline. Taking a deep breath, you stood up slowly, brushing off any dirt or dust collected on your lap before walking towards the door. You gave a knock on the door, before slowly turning the doorknob to reveal a trashed office. Plants turning upside down, smaller tables flipped around, and books spread all across the floor. Your eyes then landed on the two of them, standing behind the bigger office desk. Izuku was holding Shoto by his shirt, and the two of them had intense looks on their faces. You took another deep breath, seeing the way Izuku looks after so long. He grew out his beard, despite him hating it so much. His already scruffy, curly hair grew even more unruly. His eyes turned towards you, the shock after seeing you so long causing him to lose his grip on Shoto.

“Y/n…”

You closed your eyes and rolled your neck before closing the door behind you.

“Shoto is correct, what I do with my time is absolutely none of your business Izuku. We’re done, we’ve been done for six months. If I’m going, to be honest, we’ve been done for a year… since you had an affair with Melissa for six months as well,” you stated, slowly walking up towards the two of them.

“So what I do with him, what I do with anyone… is no longer your business. Now get out!”

Izuku stood there, shocked at your words, slowly turning his body to face you.

“Y/n I…” You made a motion with your hands, quieting him.

“Izuku Midoriya, get out now!”

He jumped back, before turning back to Shoto, giving him one last glare before walking past you towards the door. You kept your back towards him, and the door as well, as he opened it before walking out, shutting it behind him. With that, you then turned to the last man standing in the room. You gave him a soft smile, slowly shaking your head as you amble across to him. You placed your hands on his biceps as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He smiled down at you, before leaning in for a soft kiss. You chuckled and smiled into the kiss, tightening your grip on his arms. You could feel the grip you had on you tighten with every second of the kiss. Once you let go, you slowly reached up to caress the side of his face with the scar with your hand.

“You look stressed… is it because of your day? Or because of the walking trash that just walked out?”

He chuckled softly at your words, shaking his head. You smiled as you walked towards his desk, moving some of the papers off before sitting on top of his desk. Shoto gave you an up and down glance, before walking towards you and standing in between your legs.

“So… why was Izuku here?” You asked him, rubbing at his shoulders and arms.

Shoto took a deep breath before leaning forward and laying his head on top of your shoulders.

“He came up here, accusing me of different things. I never found out he found out that the two of us were seeing each other… I was more focused on other things…”

Izuku was always so stubborn, that could be a good or bad thing depending on who side you were on. You sighed, nodding your head as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Let’s go to your place? I’m really tired and I honestly just want to get as much sleep as I can.”

You could feel Shoto smile into your shoulder, before nodding. You were about to push him off of you, so you could both get what you need and walk out together, a sudden force whooshed you off your feet, arms grabbing at you and carrying you in a bridal position.

“Shoto!” You squealed, holding on to his shoulders.

He just softly chuckled once more, as he carried you out of the office, nothing but smiles on the two of you’s faces.

___

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