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lazyjellyfish300 · 4 months

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Mom and Dad are fighting on Christmas 🎄⛄🖤

Miguel O'Hara x wife reader

TW: MINORS DNI, angst, relationship and marriage troubles, fighting, insecurity, jealousy, postpartum, talk of divorce, mild smut at the end (p in v, idk to me it's mild, I've seen worse) word count 3.3k

Credit to the gif owner keezinemugstudent! 🙏🏽

Synopsis: your marriage to Miguel is on the brink of collapse. He wakes up and tries to fix it on Christmas. Jerry Maguire inspired. 😁

Valentine's Day spinoff sequel

I tried to write something angsty. Hope everyone had/is having a good holiday season! ⛄

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Miguel's in the doghouse and he knows it. You requested a separation after you reached your limit. The kids were sick in the weeks following Thanksgiving and before Christmas and he spent the whole time working late and coming home at suspicious hours in the morning, leaving you drowning. You and the kids were piled in yours and Miguel's bed when you'd hear him come home, the front door closing and his familiar footfalls dredging down the hall, pausing only at the fridge before passing out on the couch. Oh you hated him right now. The resentment had creeped in and poisoned the marriage inside and out when he became exceedingly obsessed with work.

Protecting the stability of the multiverse was a huge undertaking, but, like all things in his life, Miguel took it to the next level. But when it came to his personal life, he was grievously lacking. The passion where you two would do it twice a day and couldn't keep your hands out of each other's pants? Ancient history. The small pecks you'd trade in the mornings were a thing of the past. Gone were the days you two would text all day and go out for dates. You didn't so much as get an "on my way home" text, instead letting the sound of his car pulling in the driveway be your confirmation of his return. You two were more roomates at this point than husband and wife.

Traditionally, on Christmas Eve after the kids went to bed, you two would take that time for each other, eating the cookies for Santa that were conveniently your favorite kind, placing the presents you two carefully shopped for and wrapped (well, mostly you wrapped), under the tree. A hysterical giggle would escape your lips at the milk mustache on Miguel's face. Then you'd two get busy on the floor in front of the fireplace, fighting back laughter as you tried to keep your moans down, every year struggling a little bit more than before because your knees weren't what they used to be before taking it to your bedroom for one more round before the chaos of Christmas morning began.

He was perfect in the beginning. The romance between you two used to be at an all time high. He was a nerd in the same friend circle when you knew him in high school, wickedly smart, the guy who won the Robotics and Math Olympiad comps and got visits from Ivy League college STEM departments, eager to scoop up his talent. Sure, he was cute, but when he went to college is when you heard he had a major glow up and became kind of cocky. You heard about how he became Spider-Man and was pretty much the greatest thing since sliced bread in the eyes of the people, saving lives and fighting villains and all. You knew how the opposite gender seemed to malfunction and forget how to act around him, so you stifled away your tiny crush you had on him for years in the smallest crevice in your brain in a forgotten folder, never thinking it'd see the light of day.

When you saw him at your high school reunion, you decided to be brave and remark on how they're playing Nickelback, which he shrugged and said he actually enjoyed them, to which you sheepishly admitted that you really enjoyed them deep down too, you just couldn't resist making yourself the person to talk shit, since there's always gotta be one hater when Nickelback comes on. A canon event, if you will. This earned a tiny side smile from him, a chink in his stoic armor. After 8 beers, some flirty jests, and a little backseat rendezvous in his car, that became the last night that you two spent apart.

You were a single mom and he was a single dad. He had Gabi who was now 10 and you had Marcus who was now 6. Then you two had little Anthony together who was now 2. At first he was at all the doctors appointments, all the parent teacher conferences, he knew what the kids were doing in school. He did bed times every night, reading in a silly voice with Gabi and Marcus both balancing on his lap while you rocked baby Anthony, smiling when you heard the kids giggling from the other room. You'd walk in after baby Anthony fell asleep in his crib, your heart melting as you saw this handsome giant of a man usually known to be cold and serious to everyone else, turn into the doting husband and loving father you knew him to be. Now, years of the monotony of every day life, pressures of raising a family, and the dying egalitarian attitude you two had as partners snowballed into your own version of Gottman's four horses, leading your marriage to Miguel into apocalypse.

At first, he welcomed the separation as you two battled in the kitchen.

"You wanna separation, fine, I'll do you one better. I'll fucking leave! Felicia's better company anyway," he smirked.

There wasn't real truth behind his statement, but he knew it would hurt you when you heard it. He'd be lying if he said Felicia wasn't an attractive woman, but, she simply wasn't you. He had learned his lesson on cheating years ago when he fumbled his relationship with Gabi's mother.

Ouch. But his words could be daggers when he wanted them to be, and he knew just how to twist them into you. Of course it was Felicia. Felicia, the gorgeous Black Cat recruit from work. Her silvery hair that halted midway down her back and startling blue eyes that could drown any man in them. She didn't have kids either, a life with her promised excitement, passion, and freedom. She was witty and funny and had a way of making anyone in her vicinity listen when she spoke. And to add insult to injury, she had a killer body.

After giving birth, you became so busy, and with reassurance from Miguel that you were still beautiful to him, you let your desire to get your body to "snap back" sit on the back burner. Signs of motherhood and postpartum marked you with purple stripes running vertical on your soft belly and a new plushness to your thighs. Basically, Felicia was a complete 180 from the woman you were, which made the sting of his words that much more unbearable. He took your vulnerabilities and threw them in your face.

"Oh so you admit it, finally! I know there was something going on between you two. Makes sense. She's a gorgeous woman, right? She can fucking have you then. What, are you in love with her?"

Miguel rolled his eyes, annoyed with the superficialness of your statement and your obsession with looks, despite him reassuring you many times that he wouldn't look at other women.

"I'm not in love with her, but she doesn't nag me all the fucking time like you do. I bust my ass every day for this family so you don't have to work. I don't know who this new woman is that I'm looking at right now and what she's done with my wife, but it's not the woman I fell in love with. It would be nice if you could show me a little appreciation once in a while."

You felt your blood pressure rise.

"Appreciation.... APPRECIATION, are you fucking kidding me?! I was up all goddamn night with Gabi and Marcus. I run this fucking household all by myself. I quit my fucking career to stay home and raise your kids. Do you not understand how lonely that is?"

"I'M LONELY!!! " he yells, triggered, the feelings bottled up, fizzed over and hurtled at you like a cork on a champagne bottle. "How do you think I feel? I got women at work practically throwing themselves at me but I don't do anything about it because I'm a good husband. Meanwhile, my own wife doesn't wanna fuck me. I'm a prisoner in my own fucking house."

Your eyes almost slipped from their sockets from rolling them so hard. He seemed to want a cookie and a gold star for just being loyal, the bare minimum.

"Oh, so you wanna fuck them? Go ahead! Maybe I'd fuck you if you actually gave a shit about me and not like I'm some damn fleshlight you use to get off!" You hurl back.

He left and checked into a hotel down the street.

A few weeks had passed and it was now Christmas. You were getting used to being separated but your heart still ached in your chest. You couldn't go on doing life, when the one person you did life with was nowhere to be found. You couldn't listen to your favorite songs, eat your favorite foods, or even look at your own children without being reminded of him. Gabi was his spitting image. Same with Anthony. Even Marcus, who was his stepson, started adopting Miguel's mannerisms. The way he'd scratch his head while he did his math homework, deep in concentration.

It was Christmas evening at your mom's. You joined the other women in your family, your non-politically correct Aunt, your soft spoken sister-in-law, your mother with a don't-try-me attitude, and your younger sister with a sass to rival your mother's. You were all complaining about the men in your lives, your aunt rattling off about her 3 ex husbands but, 'hey she collects alimony from two of them so she can't complain!', your younger sister complaining about the frat guys at college who just wanna get in your pants, your sister in law who's silent the whole time (your brother treats her like a queen), and your mom about your asshole dad with an erratic mother who was incapable of cutting the apron strings and made her life a living hell. The kids are laughing and playing in the basement, eagerly trying out their new Nintendo Switch Santa left under the tree.

"I'm here for my wife."

Your feminine council meeting is interrupted by an unwelcome masculine figure. It's your estranged husband, Miguel, the coffee-colored strands of hair that hung over his forehead starting to wet from the snowflakes that melted under the warmth of the room as he stepped inside, a look of regret and longing embedded in his eyes that you hadn't seen since your earliest days of knowing him.

His strong hands dangled at his sides in fists, his chest heaving up and down. His navy blazer bearing dark water stains from the melted snow. He had a revelation at work. He and Peter B. stopped an anomaly that was terrorizing the streets of Queens in Peter's universe. The battle was close, almost a little too close to where he lived, putting MJ and Mayday in direct danger. After the job was done, the moving and emotional reunion between Peter B., MJ, and Mayday was his epiphany.

As the little family reveled in their joy and relief of evading the ultimate disaster, the only thing there for Miguel at the point of his return was the inanimate, empty, thin walls of his apartment and the thoughts of you, his severed family, that inevitably haunted him. He needed you back. He needed to apologize and fix it now.

He ran from your house to your mom's in the snow and all. It was the first Christmas Eve he spent not in between your thighs and buried deep inside you. It was the first Christmas morning he didn't wake up to Gabi's blueberry pancakes and Marcus tackling him while Anthony screamed in delight. It was going to be the first Christmas night without his family by his side, an uncomfortably obvious empty seat at the table he rightfully belonged. Next to you.

Sometimes you don't know the value of something until it's gone. Sometimes life gets in the way and you forget to appreciate the person in front of you. Why did I treat my wife like garbage when all she ever wanted was for me to ask how her day was? Why were we on our way to winding up like both sets of our parents? Doomed to repeat the cycle of divorce and hurt. Doomed to lose your faith in love and marriage like all the maternal figures in your family before you did.

Now here he was, in the living room while your mom, sister, and aunt moved towards each other, eyes squinting, three pitbulls willing to jump in on your behalf while your sister in law just stayed frozen in place. He was in enemy territory and he needed to choose his words carefully.

"Not here Miguel..."

"YES here. Right now." He says in a firm voice. "You're not getting rid of me, woman."

You scoff, almost amused by his sudden urgency and painting you like you're the one who wanted this family to be broken apart.

"The kids are downstairs..." you start to say, hoping that the mention that innocent ears could be prying into the adult conversation would help him simmer down.

"I'll see them in a minute." He says flatly.

"I miss my wife...."-he chokes on the last word, wife.

"And I want her to come home." He knew at any time his words would give way to the reservoir of tears built up behind it.

You stood there, incredulous.

"I don't want to come home to an empty apartment. I don't want my own bed. I'm ashamed it took me losing you and the kids for me to wake up. And, I'm so so sorry. I'll do whatever I can to be better. To be a better man for you and the husband that you needed. We both got caught up in real life and focused on the kids so much that we lost each other. Well, this is me trying to find my way back."

Your lips parted slightly as your breathing became heavier. This was all you ever wanted to hear him say. Stop neglecting the love between you two that laid dormant, a plant starved of sunshine. For him to finally shake off the stubborn shackles that was his ego and express himself to you. Let him allow you back into his heart, no longer as a guest, but a permanent resident.

"You're... you're everything to me. And I'm not leaving here tonight until you let me know if you'd allow me the opportunity to get hurt by you again," a tear rolled down his cheek, his scarlet eyes yearning, his hands pining for the feel of you. As though the madness of not having you alone could stop his heart from beating, stop his world from turning, rearrange life as he knew it into a hollow existence not worth seeing.

Your own reservoir could not be held back any longer and started to roll down your cheeks. He managed to peel back the walls you built with his apology, revealing the woman underneath who just missed her husband.

He steps closer to you now, eager to bridge the rest of the space between your bodies.

"You still love me?" he asked softly.

Your chest heaves, shoulders raising then falling sharply, feeling yourself crack with exasperation under his burning gaze as you softly answer,

"Never stopped."

He grabs you and pulls you into him, his embrace is tight as though you'd disappear if he dared to break it. He tangles a hand in your hair and presses his cheek into your head, his eyes closed, drinking in the scent he'd been away from for weeks. You bury your face in his chest, trying to make yourself small and allowing his frame to swallow you whole, not minding his wet shirt and blazer that still have a slight chill on them from the storm outside, allowing your body heat to seep into his. You both began to rock back and forth a little bit, still locked inside your hug. It was as though the passing of time had evaporated and it was only you two in the room, nevermind your family witnessed the whole thing.

After several long moments, you pull apart and he offers you one of his dazzling smiles, one you hadn't seen in months. The kids have made their way upstairs and shriek with excitement when they see their dad and Miguel bends down to scoop them up. You smile and stand beside your mom who scoops you into a side hug. With her blessing, Miguel stays and celebrates the rest of Christmas with you and your family.

Gabi, Marcus, and Anthony are now all tucked in. The sugar from the chocolate they consumed all day had worn off, making them crash hard in their beds. You and Miguel are cuddled up on the couch watching the fireplace, taking some needed time as a couple. You stroke his strong arms that are wrapped around you with your fingertips, watching the way the flames leap and spark in the air when they crackle against the charred wood. You look up at him and feel a wave of desire wash over you that you had pent up for months as you study his chiseled features and the way the fire's glow highlights his skin.

"Should we end this Christmas with a bang?" You ask, pun fully intended.

Miguel looks at you tiredly, trying to act like that wasn't a witty remark but he lets out a chuckle. "I'd love to," he whispers.

He takes both your cheeks in his large hands and brings his lips to you immediately. They're soft and full. You feel yourself melting into him every time he sandwiches yours in between them. He reclines you backwards, slowly, until he's on top of you. He lets the weight of his body and hips come down on you little by little, making you arch your back, so your body can better receive him.

Once he lets you taste his tongue, you open your mouth wider, permitting him to deepen the kiss, tossing kindle onto the growing flame between you two, and it's not the one in your fireplace. You take your turn to dial up the heat, seizing his bottom lip in a gentle nip from your teeth, earning a low groan from Miguel and a tightened grip on your hair.

As you continue your steamy makeout session, he begins to hump gently against your clothed body, a nonverbal plea for the wet friction only the inside of you can provide.

After your frantic hands strip each other of your clothes, you've transitioned so you're straddling him in the lotus position, goosebumps popping up all over your skin as your bare body meets his, a high pitched gasp escaping you as you sink down onto him, his mouth falling open and his eyes shutting closed as he breathes in your ear,

"God, I missed you, baby."

You whine into his neck as you coil your fists in his hair. His hands fly to the soft flesh of your sides, using them to move you up and down, his haggard breaths making you weaker and weaker by the minute. You hum,

"I missed you even more."

The next move of his hips is harder than you anticipated, causing your brain to go fuzzy with pleasure.

"How much?" he exhales in a sultry tone.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you all week,"your tone turning into pleading as you feel yourself approaching your limit.

Miguel can't help but feel himself lose his mind a little bit at your words and at your reaction, sensing you won't be able to hold on much longer.

He lays you down, while still keeping himself inside. He slows down to a more sensual pace, breathing in the sight of your wild hair clinging to the couch cushions, evidence of him hitting you in all the right spots every time the inner corners of your eyebrows squinch upwards and your lips fall open.

His loving eyes burn with worship of your body and how well you're doing as he runs a thumb along your chin then pulls down your bottom lip, leans in and mumbles quietly into your mouth,

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. O'Hara."

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🖤

#miguel o'hara #spotify #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #fanfic #miguel o'hara angst #Spotify #miguel o'hara smut

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godslino · 3 months

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MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around

author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3

“So…I know a guy.”

You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.

Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.

You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.

Long story short, it didn’t.

Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.

“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.

“At least let me tell you about him?”

“No.”

“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”

Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.

“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”

A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.

Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.

Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.

“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.

And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.

But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.

“What’s his name?”

Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”

“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”

He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”

“Five.”

“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”

“Four.”

“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”

“Three.”

“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”

Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.

“You swear this guy is normal?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”

“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”

“What the fuck? I just said no.”

“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”

“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.

“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”

Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.

“Deal.”

🎥🍿

Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.

You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.

When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.

Chan [12:32p.m.]

Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?

Something came up at the studio

I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time

Great. Already off to a rough start.

In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.

You [2:33p.m.]

no worries!!!

you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?

Chan [2:34p.m.]

Nope! So we should be fine

I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?

You [2:36p.m.]

sounds perfect

hope stuff goes well at the studio!!

Chan [2:40p.m.]

You’re sweet

Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)

You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.

To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.

It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.

The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.

You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.

You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.

Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.

You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.

He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.

He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.

“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.

“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”

Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.

Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.

🎥🍿

Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.

When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.

“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.

Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.

Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.

You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.

Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.

By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.

The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.

There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—

“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”

The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.

Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.

“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”

You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”

“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.

“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”

Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.

“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”

First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.

Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.

“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.

“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”

When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”

Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.

The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”

Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.

There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.

Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.

Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.

“You okay? You look kind of tired.”

Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”

The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.

Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.

He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.

You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”

🎥🍿

“For you.”

Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.

“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.

After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.

“Oh, you don’t—”

“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”

Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”

You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”

It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.

The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.

“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.

“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”

Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.

“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.

“You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”

A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.

“You’re…”

“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.

“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.

“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I think you like it.”

Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Is it bad if I say no?”

Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.

“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”

A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.

It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.

You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.

“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”

“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”

Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.

“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.

“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]

#bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan fic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fanfiction #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz fic #skz fanfiction #skz smut #skz fluff #skz angst #bang chan #stray kids #skz #first date series

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barcaatthemoon · 2 months

Text

out of the bag || alexia putellas x reader ||

alexia pulls away when your relationship is discovered by fans.

you had lived a good part of your life in the spotlight. your father had been one of the biggest football stars in english history, and you had followed in his footsteps. he had dreams of you playing in manchester like he had, but your heart belonged in barcelona. the club itself had been everything you had ever wanted, and it pushed you right into the arms of the love of your life.

alexia liked things to be private. she had been adamant about people not knowing the two of you were together. alexia loved you, and it was the first time that you'd ever really gotten privacy in a relationship. there were still people speculating about who you were going on dates with, but for the most part, nobody ever really guessed alexia.

it was moments like these: with her hand brushing through your hair as the two of you stood on the balcony watching the sunrise, that you were glad for the privacy. alexia stood behind you, allowing you to borrow some of her strength to support yourself. the two of you were far past the point of being madly in love. it was the first time you'd ever gotten comfortable with someone else before.

"it's beautiful up here," you said quietly. you had been afraid to break the silence, but as alexia hummed in agreement, you knew it was the right choice. "are you nervous about the game tomorrow?"

"no, and you shouldn't be either." alexia pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder. she was quick to turn you around to face her so that you could see the sincerity in her words. "manchester city, they are good, but they aren't going to beat us. you're where you need to be."

"thank you," you whispered as you leaned in to kiss her. alexia's cheeks were flushed when you pulled away. things had been a little rocky between you at first, but there was nobody more loving than your girlfriend. alexia was just reserved around other people, but you could see your influence pushing her out of her shell a bit.

"they'll want to talk to you tomorrow about loyalties," alexia warned you. you had expected as much, but you never wanted to leave barcelona. even if alexia retired or left, you wanted to stay. your team was cohesive, and despite the initial language barrier, you had made friends with every single one of them.

that night, you slept a little easier nestled in alexia's arms. the next morning, you woke up still tucked safely away in her arms, which set the tone for the day. usually, the two of you were a bit more careful with your distance, but alexia seemed to be fully content with throwing caution to the wind. she had even let you ride with her to practice, stealing a quick kiss in the parking lot when she thought nobody could see you.

throughout the game, you could feel that something was a bit off. whenever you'd pause and look at the stands, the fans were watching you and alexia. she was great to lean on for support, but a part of you was hesitant. the last thing you wanted was to accidentally out your relationship after alexia had been extremely clear that she wanted it to stay a secret. not even the majority of the team knew about the two of you yet.

your suspicions were confirmed whenever you made your rounds after the match. alexia had been correct in assuming that they'd want to interview you about how you felt playing against your old team. the two of you did the interview in front of a group of fans. they had yelled something in spanish that you didn't completely understand, but from the way alexia tensed, she did. the arm that had been brushing against yours fell slack as she took a step away from you.

"manchester will always have a special place in my heart, but barcelona is my home," you told the reporter. you tried hard to keep your face from falling as alexia began to ignore you. the interview concluded with a couple questions for alexia. you tried to wait for her to walk with you to the locker room, but alexia blew right past you instead. "did i say something wrong?"

"no," she answered curtly. inside of the locker room, the girls were whooping as you walked in. that was when you realized that everybody seemed to know about the two of you.

"come on ale, you won't hold the door for your girlfriend. don't let her treat you badly," mapi teased. you froze on the spot, but that was nothing compared to the uneasy silence from alexia slamming her locker door shut. everybody seemed uncomfortable, even after alexia had left the stadium.

"(y/n), what's wrong?" keira asked as she noticed you looking around the parking lot with a lost look on your face. alexia had stormed out after her shower, but you didn't think that she would have just left you stranded like that.

"alexia's car is gone. she was my ride," you said with a small sigh. keira frowned as she put her arm around your shoulders. the two of you walked out to her car instead. you weren't sure what was up, but alexia hadn't even bothered to wait for you after the game. it was definitely unlike her. even when you didn't ride together, alexia was a lot more attentive than this.

you spent the night, and many others after that, all alone in your apartment. alexia would answer maybe half of your texts and even less of your calls. she had been cold to you before, but never so distant. you almost didn't want to come over before your next game, even though it was the most crucial part of your own personal pre-game routine.

"you're late." you knew that it meant something for alexia to have noticed, but her tone completely distracted you from that. it wasn't that she seemed unbothered, but more like she didn't want you there with her. the idea of intruding on alexia whenever she wanted time alone was one of your biggest fears, but you had already made it all the way to her apartment, and frankly, it was late.

"can i stay over tonight?" you asked her. alexia nodded as she turned her attention back to the tv. you wanted to ask if she was mad at you for something, but you hadn't done anything wrong. maybe alexia just wasn't interested in you anymore. "i'm gonna go back to the bedroom i guess."

"mhm," alexia hummed. you sighed heavily as you walked back into her bedroom. alexia tore her eyes away from the screen to watch longingly as you left. she would have happily turned the game footage off to put on one of the shows that the two of you liked watching together. alexia had been looking forward to finishing the one that you had been raving about for the past week.

the two of you managed to keep your distance for the rest of the night and into the next day. everybody could tell that something was up, but nobody was brave enough to ask what it was. alexia couldn't bring herself to look at you for the pre-game warm ups. you didn't try passing the ball to her at all during the game, instead looking for a different player or running it yourself.

you were good enough to run the ball, but unfortunately, your opponents knew that as well. they had failed to stop a couple of your runs, but that had lit a fire beneath their backline. that was how you found yourself on the wrong end of a nasty tackle. there hadn't a deafening crack of bone, but everybody could tell from how you went down that it was bad. it was bad enough that you weren't asked if you wanted to stay on the pitch.

"what the fuck is wrong with you!" alexia stormed right up to the player who had tackled you, pushing past the ref who was trying to issue a card. there was no shoving with alexia this time, just a fist that connected instantly with the defender's face. the team couldn't do much other than watch as alexia went for another punch, this one knocking the other woman on the ground.

"hey! hey! hey!" alexia wasn't sure who pulled her off of the other player, but she didn't care. alexia was absolutely seething. she couldn't remember being so angry in a long time, not since she was young. ingrid and ona escorted alexia off of the pitch as the ref pulled out the red card.

"you should let me get back out there and finish the job," alexia muttered. mapi sighed as she placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "what would you do if someone did that to ingrid?"

"i'd lose my goddamn mind, but i would also have gotten my ass handed to me for fighting like that. now, i won't tell (y/n) what you did, but you have to promise me to calm down and go talk to her alexia," mapi said. alexia closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing, but she couldn't. every single time that she closed her eyes, all she saw was you going down.

"it's so hard. she looked so hurt laying there." mapi could tell that her best friend wanted to say something more, but she didn't. it was clear to the team that the couple was having issues, and those issues had been weighing down on both women. alexia was the cause of it all, having pulled away because she was scared. dating a big legacy name like you would have pushed her to a level that she wasn't sure that she was ready for.

"what's been going on between the two of you?" mapi asked. alexia shrugged as she grabbed onto the hem of her shorts. she pretended to be messing with a string, despite there being nothing for her to really fiddle with. "did you get in a fight?"

"not yet, but i deserve to be yelled at. things were perfect, and then someone posted a picture of me kissing her in the parking lot. everybody found out about us, and i panicked. all i've wanted was to be around her, but i'm terrified." alexia didn't feel proud of what she was saying. you were probably equally as scared, and alexia had just left you on your own. "i should go talk to her, shouldn't i?"

"do you really have to ask?"

"no," alexia sighed. she got up from the bench and went towards the tunnel. you were easy enough for her to find, still sitting on the bench in the medic's office. the medics and trainers had left you a couple minutes before to ice your head. "hola, pretty girl."

"there's no way the game is over. they said this was a minor concussion," you said. alexia chuckled as she stepped in between your legs and cradled your face. you felt a wave of relief wash over you at the simple bit of contact. "i've missed this. where have you been?"

"i've been acting like an idiot. just because people know about us, doesn't mean it has to change. i'm sorry," alexia apologized. you smiled and leaned in to kiss her, all too ready to forgive her. alexia let you kiss her, but she pulled away with a heavy sigh. "let me make it up to you, please?"

"i won't try to stop you," you promised. alexia let out a sigh of relief as she dropped her head down to rest against her shoulder. the two of you stayed like that until you realized that she had never told you why she wasn't on the field. "don't you have a game to play?"

"no, i got a red card. it looks like we'll both be out the next game." alexia laughed, but you didn't exactly find it funny. that meant she had either gotten into a fight on the pitch with another player, or she had attempted to foul the girl who hurt you and succeeded. either way, alexia had acted rashly, which you didn't like the idea of. she needed to be smart and safe. you liked your girlfriend happy and uninjured.

"just don't tell me if you did anything exceptionally stupid," you told her. alexia nodded, pretending to zip her mouth shut. "shower with me?"

"of course, i can't have you slipping or something." alexia grabbed your hand and led you towards the locker room. you knew that she'd never try anything in the team showers, but it wasn't often that you had the opportunity to shower together like this. alexia was bound to be a bit clingy with you for a little while, so you'd take full advantage of that to make up for the week of being distant you had endured.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

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javigutierrez · 3 months

Text

Are you alright, Honey?

Javi Gutierrez x afab!reader oneshot

Summary: You’re going on a long weekend with your gorgeous new boyfriend, and after a day of unresolved sexual tension out on a roadtrip you’re ready to jump him the second you get home. Unless he finds a movie at the gas station he had been looking for for years and he wants to watch it with you. Will you be able to mask your desire for him, to enjoy a movie that means so much to him? (Spoiler alert no you won’t)

Rating & Word count: Explicit | ~8500 words

Warnings/tags: fluffffff, freshly established relationship, pining like whoa, very explicit smut, f!oral, f!fingering, tons of nipple play, non-penetrative sex (sumata ig?), unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, allusions to squirting, pleasure dom!Javi vibes, tw alcohol, tw food mention, Javi is a major dumb of ass but he makes up for it, reader has female genitalia, some boobs, and long enough hair to tuck it behind their ear but no other descriptions (let me know if you find anything else!), no age references

A/N: Here it is, after years of contemplating I'm posting my first fanfic in 12 years and my first fanfic in English ever. Please be kind, English is not my first language ❤ This is a huge thing to me, and I wouldn't have been able to get there without the help and encouragement of my lovely friends - I owe a kidney to @psychedelic-ink and @shellshocklove for their tremendous help as my betas, and to @iamasaddie @perotovar @chronically-ghosted @wannab-urs for listening to my bitching and moaning along the way and still staying my loyal cheerleaders 🥺 The whole idea popped into my mind like a movie while editing this gifset (which was inspired by @prolix-yuy’s Javi story, so special thanks to LJ 🥰), that 5th gif corrupting my mind for the next 2,5 months and this was the only way I could finally get it out of my system. 🤡 I hope you'll enjoy it! ❤

This was quite an eventful day. You spent your whole day out with Javi, having a road trip at Côte d’Azur. After a little bit more than a month of dating you had decided to go on a long weekend together, choosing the French coastlines. You had been absolutely amazed by the experience; clear azure waves embracing golden shores, the streets of seaside towns winding through history with beautiful architecture and warm colours, mountain tops lurking on the horizon behind the town. After Javi had told you he would get you into the Cannes movie festival, you were already talking about coming back for a few days.

The sights were unbelievable and the food was delectable, but what really made the trip unforgettable was your new boyfriend. Spending time with Javi was so easy. With him, all your anxiety washed away - his sweet and caring personality was like a soothing balm for your soul, and with his fun-loving side, you really felt like living your life to the fullest. Not to mention how he showed his true colors in the bedroom. Absolutely devoted to your pleasure, he could be worshipping you, making you feel like a goddess, other times he would make you beg, then shower you with praises while he was giving you exactly what you needed. Who would have thought only a few weeks before, when you had started chatting with a stranger waiting in line at the cinema, that he would sweep you off of your feet almost immediately and turn your life upside down in the best way possible?

There you were right now, coming home from another amazing day spent with him, laughing with him, staring at his profile while he was driving, smoothing out his sun-bleached locks tangled up by the wind in the cabrio while he was looking at you all doe-eyed and dopey-smiled. You were holding his hand, feeling his hand on your bare thigh, resting at the hem of your bunched-up sundress comfortably and sometimes you had caught him looking at you with the same intensity. It was safe to say, by the time you got in the car to get home you were ready to jump him.

There was only one tiny thing you hadn’t calculated for when you had been planning your night (or rather imagining it dreamily from all angles): finding a DVD at a gas station. When his eyes fell on the item, he’d looked confused for a few seconds, but then taking it from the shelf and reading the cover his face lit up like a child’s in a candy store.

As it turned out, it was an indie French movie he had watched with his parents back when he was young and they had been on a holiday. They had rarely spent quality time together, so he cherished those few occasions he’d felt like he belonged to an ordinary, loving family. He remembered the time fondly and he always wanted to find the movie because of the nostalgia of it all, but he had forgotten the title and didn’t know the actors, so after a lot of unsuccessful attempts, he’d given up trying.

“Can we watch this tonight? Please?” He looked at you with big brown eyes, enveloping the DVD in his hands, (dwarfing it, really) and pressing it to his heart. And how could you say no to him? If he looked at you like that, you would have agreed to watch a 10-hour-long film about paint drying on a wall.

“Of course, Javi,” you smiled at him gently, your heart melting from his child-like joy as you watched him gallop to the cashier to pay for the gas and the DVD. You pushed the slight disappointment of not being able to climb this gorgeous goofball of a man as soon as you get home, to the back of your mind.

At the end of the day, you were genuinely happy to just spend time with him. You blamed your hormones and the fact that you were still in the honeymoon phase for being pent up all day. You couldn’t help it, but you are a big girl in an adult relationship, you decided, you can have one night without having sex with this tall, broad, gentle but surprisingly strong, passionate, generous, highly skilled–

“Let’s go!” he urged you with an adorable grin and shining eyes, grabbing your hand and tugging you out of the gas station. Your heart swelled from the sight. Yes, you can have a peaceful night if it makes him happy, and you will be just as hyped to watch the movie as him. It did seem like a good movie based on the cover, and you knew it meant the world to him, so you wouldn’t spoil his fun with your neediness.

By the time you got back to your rented house, it was already dark, and the early autumn weather had gotten a bit more chilly. Javi practically jumped out of the car (but still rushed to your side to open your door).

You agreed that you would prepare the snacks and set up the TV, while he would start the fireplace and get a bottle of wine from the cellar. He gave you a soft peck on your lips, one hand resting on the back of your neck, then he pretty much ran to the cellar - you think you even heard him giggling on his way. His enthusiasm was infectious, even though you’d never even heard about the movie before, now you were excited to watch it.

When you found out how to get the DVD to work Javi was already tinkling with the logs on the fireplace, a bottle of wine with two glasses on the kitchen counter already. You let yourself get lost in the sight for a good minute, your cavewoman brain activated by looking at him focusing on his task with his arms flexing, but then you shook yourself from your reveries, going to the American-style kitchen to put a bag of popcorn in the microwave and wash some grapes, then putting the wine on the coffee table next to the couch.

You couldn’t help but steal a few more glances at him. His short-sleeved shirt was now unbuttoned, hanging on his shoulders and your eyes fell on his white tank top straining over his torso. He seemed especially broad like this, and you couldn’t wait to cuddle with him and bury your face in his chest, kissing over the constellations of freckles on his shoulders and chest you were so familiar with by now.

Once the fire was lighting, he looked at you proudly and you beamed back at him. The more his eyes were on you, the more his look grew softer. His gaze full of adoration made butterflies whoosh in your stomach - you were overwhelmed by emotions for this man, sometimes it even made you scared of falling too hard.

“Are you sure you’re okay with watching this movie tonight, cariño?” He asked tenderly, his voice raspy and deep. He walked up to you to put his hands on your waist, caressing you with his thumbs and lowering his head to really look into your eyes. “I know these four days are supposed to be about the two of us.” There was no hurt or any malice in his voice, he was ready to drop the plan the second you said so. It felt like he was staring into your soul and suddenly you felt guilty. You obviously didn’t try hard enough to support him if he felt the need to ask and that made your guts tie up in a knot. You put your hands on the sides of his neck, then lowered them to his shoulders, then his chest. You never broke eye contact.

“Honey, I’m absolutely sure. We had a long day so a movie night is perfect to wind down and this movie seems super interesting! I swear, I can’t wait to start it already!” You rose on your tiptoes and laid an innocent kiss on his lips. He didn’t let you go, holding your face to deepen the kiss and a zap ran through your body as his tongue slipped between your lips to taste you.

You felt his little huff on your upper lip, and you couldn’t resist the quiet moan that escaped your throat. The sound somewhat sobered you up, and you broke the kiss, feeling a little dizzy. He opened his eyes slowly, looking a bit disheveled himself. You had a mission to accomplish, you couldn’t get distracted all the time… you went back up just to give a small kiss on the tip of his nose, which made him smile bashfully, his eyes crinkling adorably.

“Come on baby, let’s start it!”

You grabbed the snacks, but he took them from you with a kiss on your temple, and you both headed to the couch. He put the snacks down on the table and plopped down on the L-shaped furniture as you went on a quick round to light some candles around the room, bathing it in warm colours. You started with the candles in the back and as you worked your way back up you caught him pouring wine into your glasses, then he started to explore the menu of the DVD to set up an English subtitle. With a small sigh, you allowed yourself to indulge yourself in his sight one last time while you were finishing up the candles.

He quite literally took your breath away. His lovely locks you adored to bury your hands into so much, his eyes sparkling from the TV’s light and crinkled with a smile he probably didn’t even notice he had on his face. Your eyes followed the curve of his prominent nose and fell on his lips under his neat mustache. Those pouty lips... you had some vivid memories involving them. The man might look innocent, but he sure knew how to do sin when he wanted to.

He leaned back with his legs propped up and reached out to you. You climbed on top of him and nestled yourself into his chest. He held you close to him, situating himself so you were sitting between his legs, resting your back on his chest.

“Ready, cariño?” He hummed into your neck, pressing a small kiss there. Your blood sizzled under your sensitive skin.

“Never been more ready! Let’s go!”

Javi started the movie and scooted even closer to you, if possible. Strong arms resting on your stomach, caging you in, he nuzzled your neck with a low hum, leaving a trail of kisses up your jaw, finishing with the softest of kisses on your cheek. You felt intoxicated, despite the untouched glasses on the table. His warmth was making your whole body melt, the way his chest rose and fell rhythmically behind you soothed you, and his cologne filled your nostrils with something warm and spicy and citrusy. But below all those layers it smelled uniquely like him, perfectly complementing his perfume. You would recognize it anywhere, after so many times of tasting his skin all over his body – it was the perfect concoction.

He was none the wiser about your… rather delicate situation, eyes glued to the screen, hands absentmindedly caressing your hips and stomach. You tried to focus on the movie, and you were able to catch glimpses of it and laugh at the jokes, but his touches kept distracting you. More often than not you caught yourself looking at his sinewy forearms, the golden watch on his wrist, and the ring on his pinky catching on your dress from time to time. You slowly traced the veins on his arms, and as you tried to focus on the screen again you played with the edges of his watch and ring. He gently caught your hand, intertwining your fingers and raising it to his face for a kiss on your knuckles.

“Some wine?” He murmured sometime later.

You were grateful for the opportunity, slightly going mad from the tension as you were stewing in your juices. He barely finished his question, you were already leaning for the glasses, handing him one. “Oo-kay,” he chuckled at your enthusiasm, albeit a little confused by your behaviour. He paused the movie and sat up at the corner of the couch. You were still between his legs, but you both positioned yourself to turn to each other more at the corner. His left hand held the glass, and his right was on your waist, keeping you close to him. His eyes were glazed over looking at your face and you could only imagine how ridiculously smitten you must have looked like.

“For this perfect day, and for the unexpected gifts it has brought us,” he said, raising his glass.

“For this perfect day, that is about to get even better,” you answered, making him grin with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You clinked your glasses and raised it to your lips, him barely tasting the wine through a sip, while you downed the whole glass. Leaning back against the backrest of the couch, you tried to look put together. The taste really was divine, and you had hoped it would help to calm your nerves a bit. Javi was visibly amused looking at you.

“You liked it, huh, cariño?” He asked, getting your glasses and putting them on the table leaning over your legs.

You giggled in response, smiling shyly at him with a small shrug, “It tasted amazing, Javi. It was a great choice.”

“I knew you would love this. Say the word and a box of these will be at my house by the time we get home,” he said, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ears and kept his hand on the side of your face.

“Consider it said.” You winked at him and he breathed out a silent laugh, but he tilted his head a little with a small frown between his brows, seemingly inspecting you. You had a feeling you had looked a bit nervous, only because you’d tried to clumsily mask your desire for him, wanting to give this night to him to enjoy a movie that meant so much to him but… you clearly weren’t succeeding. You knew he was about to ask you about it, so instead you grabbed the remote before he could speak.

“Shall we?” You asked nonchalantly.

His hand dropped from your face. “Of course,” he said.

He shook his head a little, failing at figuring you out as he leaned back on the couch. You laid down in front of him so you could continue watching the movie while he spooned you, and pressed the play button. You’d hoped that with this new pose, there would be less temptation as you’re not laying on him anymore, but boy, were you wrong.

He hoisted you closer to his body, his hand splayed out on your stomach, and kept you there, almost protectively. Staring at it, you dumbly wondered about how much smaller your torso looked under his hand than your own and that activated something primal in your mind again. You felt his crotch pressed up to your ass, and though he wasn’t hard, it made your cunt throb around nothing. It was so close, yet so far, and you weren’t allowed to do anything about it. Your guts twisted, and you wiggled every few minutes, pressing your thighs together, uselessly fighting the arousal that kept getting more and more suffocating.

A few minutes later he nuzzled at the back of your ear, and the combined sensations of his breath in your ear and the soft tickle of his mustache and stubble made a shudder run through your body, followed by goosebumps everywhere.

“Are you alright, honey?” He murmured, looking at your profile.

“Of course, Javi,” you said, not very convincingly. “Just trying to find the perfect angle.” You explained as you wiggled some more, still staring at the TV, as your thumb gently smoothed across his knuckles to soothe him.

“Right…” he replied.

Whatever he thought, he didn’t say anything else.

However, a few minutes later the hand that had been on your stomach slowly wandered down, below the hem of your sundress, and he gently, but firmly lifted your thigh to fit his between your legs. The movement was so unexpected that you couldn’t hold back a small groan from the pleasure the friction gave you.

“You sure you’re alright?” Javi asked innocently behind your back, his hand now smoothing over the bare skin on your thigh, leaving an electric feeling beneath your skin in its trail. Every single one of his touches made arousal pool between your legs. You silently cursed at your body for growing more and more sensitive, begging for him to come closer.

“Yeah…” you practically squeaked. You were close to your breaking point.

Javi only hummed, his hand stopping to rest it on your stomach again. You were fighting your instincts to rub yourself on his thigh for a few minutes, and you were proud of yourself for resisting, but then he moved between your legs a little, enough to give attention to your aching clit, and the hiss that escaped your lips made him come to a halt.

It felt like the time froze for a few seconds, none of you daring to move. You, trying to take back control over your treacherous body, and him obviously assessing the situation. You mentally did a facepalm as you felt your wet underwear sticking to his pants. He didn’t say anything, but his hand moved down from your stomach and bunched up your skirt. He breathed out your name, almost admonishing, and it made your heart jump. His hand was dangerously close to where you wanted him the most, and as his palm covered your mound, thick fingers reaching your soaked panties, he buried his face in the back of your neck.

“Oh, honey…” he choked. He took a deep inhale, smelling your scent, then suddenly sat up and paused the movie.

“No, Javi, I was watching it!” You wanted to wince at yourself, your act was truly ridiculous at this point.

“None of that, cariño.” He shook his head, turning you on your back with a firm hand on your hip. “You obviously need me, please let me take care of you.”

“It really can wait, I don’t mind!” You protested. You wanted nothing more than for him to touch you, but you didn’t want to be selfish.

“Well, I don’t want to wait!” He declared, his gaze burning you as it fell from your face, scanning your body splayed out in front of him. “What about this: I eat you out, then we can continue the movie. Would that be okay for you?”

You stared at him like a deer caught in a headlight. Is he serious? But his words definitely affected you.

“Please, cariño,” he continued in a gentler tone, his pleading eyes finding yours again. “Let me eat your pretty pussy, now.”

That was the last nail in your coffin, you swore under your breath as you almost went cross-eyed from his words only. “Fffuck, okay… okay let’s do this” you croaked after a few seconds, your defenses crumbling like a house of cards in a tornado.

“Atta girl,” he smirked, and in an instant, he was on top of you.

His fingers found their way into your hair as he put his lips on you, the press of his body a comforting weight on you. His kiss was electric, hot, and sensual. He sucked your lips in with a primal hunger, his tongue licking against the seam of your lips, opening you up to him and claiming your mouth with dominance. You barely noticed the soft sounds coming from your throat, only when you felt the corners of his mouth curl up slightly in a smile. You felt like you had to anchor yourself as you gripped the back of his open yellow shirt so hard, it was protesting against your ministrations on his shoulders.

“Mmmtake—this—off,” you whispered desperately against his all-encompassing kiss.

Javi leaned back, his hair disheveled, to practically tear the shirt off of himself. With a huff through his nose, his eyes gazed at your kiss-swollen lips with hunger. You were out of breath from the intensity of the kiss, panting softly as you took in the sight of him.

He still had his tank top on, your mouth already dropping from the show. His top only accentuated his wide shoulders and narrow waist, and his skin kissed by the firelight was glowing in a golden light, its colours and the way the lights and shadows exaggerated his features made you drool. You could never resist the freckles on his shoulders and chest either. If you weren’t already on the edge of insanity, you would spend hours kissing and biting along his torso, but now clearly none of you had the patience for that.

He came back to you and started suckling on your neck, one of your hands flying to his back to weakly trace the ridges of his shoulder blade, while the other clutched his bicep. Keeping up his ministrations on your neck he gently bunched up your dress above your stomach. His thigh found its way back between your legs and this time you bucked your hips up shamelessly. He groaned as he felt your wet warmth staining his pants and his lips traveled lower. As he trailed your collarbone with the tip of his tongue between his lips, two of his fingers touched you through your panties and you moaned out loud.

“Javi, please!” you whined as he trailed his middle and ring finger up your seam, and tapped on your clit through the soaked textile. You were so worked up, you felt your heart pounding in your ears.

“Shhh cariño, I got you,” he murmured, his voice impossibly low and his breath burning your chest.

His fingers never gave up, but he always kept his touches light, making you throb uncontrollably. You watched him move lower, and you couldn’t decide what to stare at: his lips and tongue molding against your fevered skin, or the dips and hills of his shoulders and biceps flexing as he kept himself up with one arm while torturing you with the other. He traced his tongue around your navel and he looked up at you as he licked over its valley, his fingers mimicking the movement below. He then had the audacity to send you a cheeky wink as your whole body shuddered.

“Fuuuck, stop teasing me, I can’t take it anymore!” you sounded pathetic, but you didn’t care at this point.

“Okay, baby. You earned it.”

He consoled you quietly with a final kiss to your lower stomach, before hooking his fingers into your panties to slowly drag the piece down. If it was anyone else you probably would have felt awkward about how the fabric protested at first, sticking to your cunt, but with Javi, if anything, you felt powerful.

He was visibly trying to compose himself as he gently helped you get both your legs out of the ruined piece and with a shaky exhale he scooted back. He shove a cushion under your ass as he laid down on his belly, navigating your thighs over his shoulders, eyeing your center with blown-out pupils.

“I will never get used to this,” he mused to himself with wonder in his voice, as he splayed his hands across the crease of your ass to softly spread your cunt wide open with his thumbs. You felt his heavy huff on your pussy, and it made you twitch again. He looked captivated by the sight.

“Javi, I swear to go—oohhh my god,” Javi cut you off as the flat of his tongue licked a broad and firm stripe through your folds with a depraved moan.

Your whole body lifted up, and he hooked his arms around your legs, grabbing at the top of your thighs as he held you down, keeping you close to his ravenous mouth. He gave you a few greedy laps, slowly exploring all of your cunt before his tongue lazily went around your hole. Your muscles were twitching, your chest and neck aflame, and if his sight weren’t so hypnotizing you would have thrown your head back already. You felt boneless.

Your abs shaking from the strain of keeping you upright, you grabbed a few cushions you could reach from your position, and shoved them under your head, angling yourself perfectly to watch him at work. He was licking at you tirelessly, mapping all your sensitive spots, before he started to fuck you with his tongue, slowly but deliberately grazing your walls all around.

You let out a raspy moan at the sensation - he was the first person who had ever done this to you and you were still surprised by it every single time. The feel of his agile muscle prodding at your sensitive flesh made your vision blur and sweat gather around your temple. He went as deep as possible, and after an inhale he buried his nose in your clit, slightly moving it left and right. You felt him everywhere as if he was surrounding your entire body. One of your hands grabbed a cushion so tightly, it made your knuckles ache, your other hand finding purchase in his soft locks.

You were scraping his scalp with your fingernails, and he practically purred, the sounds vibrating against your raw flesh, starting a fire in your guts as goosebumps erupted on your skin. You couldn’t help pulling at a handful of hair as your pussy spasmed around his deft tongue. His purr turned into a growl as he removed himself, gulping some air still a few inches away from your cunt. Your hands lifelessly plopped down around you.

“Fuck, cariño, I won’t ever get enough of you,” his speech was slurred like he was drunk and he looked up at you with disoriented eyes. “You taste so good, I would happily drown in you.”

You wanted to react, you really did, but as he was talking one of his hands left your thigh and traced an invisible pattern down the apex of your thighs, fingers traveling through your cunt and gathering your juices, then reaching their destination, a thick digit slipping into you just when you wanted to answer him. Whatever you wanted to tell him, he rendered you speechless with literally a swipe of his finger. The cracking of the fire and the slick sounds of your pussy were the only noises around you, until you felt his mouth on you again. He lapped up the juices escaping you around his finger, sucking on your lips with obscenely loud noises. You wanted to cover your face because you suddenly felt self-conscious, but his free hand grabbed your wrist as you heard him call your name brokenly.

“Please don’t hide away from me, I want to see your face as I bring you pleasure,” he pleaded, his accent a bit stronger than usual.

The mere look of him was debauched, all messy-haired and shiny-faced, looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars in the sky. Your heart skipped a beat, and you held onto his hand, his thumb tracing reassuring circles on your knuckles immediately. Your other hand smoothed his unruly hair out of his face, and he went back, keeping eye contact with you.

“Look at me,” he rasped one last time before diving in.

He dragged his tongue up between your folds as his finger started moving again. He looked up at you the entire time from under his lashes, eyes half-lidded. As he reached your clit you jumped a little, and he opened his mouth wider so you could see his tongue moving against the tortured little nub with a small wiggle. You had to compose yourself not to let your eyes roll back, the sight somehow multiplying the already devastating sensation tenfold.

“You’re so fucking good to me, Javi,” you uttered, caressing his hair and you could see a shiver running down his spine. “I’m so—so—“

“I know, mi amor, I can feel it. Let go for me.”

He groaned and sucked your clit into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. You squealed, not knowing if you wanted to escape from his ministrations or let him consume you. You tried to trash around but his hands came up and covered the bottom of your stomach, holding you down again. You had half the mind to notice him slowly grinding onto the couch, but then you felt his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, along with his finger rubbing that perfect spot inside you again, and you felt like a lightning struck you.

All your muscles seized up as white-hot pleasure coursed through your veins. At first, you couldn’t even breathe, let alone make a sound, but then a groan tore out from the depth of your chest and you fell back on the couch lifelessly. Javi never let up licking at you, prolonging your catharsis, not stopping even when you tried to squirm away from oversensitivity.

“No, no wait—“ you pleaded with a shaky voice to no avail. Everything was too much, but you couldn’t escape from his iron grip. Javi greedily explored all your sensitive spots around your swollen vulva and hole with firm strokes, before he found the button of your clit again, sucking on it harshly dragging you under the waves of ecstasy for a second time that night with a squeak. His mouth was sucking at you relentlessly through the helpless spasms of your body, draining all the energy from you and filling your brain with fuzzy cotton. You fell back limply, muttering nonsense while his mouth gently cleaned you up.

You had no idea how long you were just laying there uselessly, basking in the afterglow with Javi still between your legs. His face rested on the plush of your thigh, his breathing slow but heavy, his eyes closed and his hands flexing.

Once your wits came back to you, you noticed a faint dent on your thigh from Javi’s ring, a thought of how you wanted to tattoo it on your skin filled your mind – to keep it there forever.

You played with his hair again, curling a silky strand around your finger by scraping little circles on his scalp. As if you woke him up from a stupor, he looked up at you, breathing now almost normal, but his pupils were still blown out. He wiped his face on your inner thigh, then kissed and sucked off the remnants of your wetness there and you giggled, his facial hair tickling you. He crawled up your body with a smile across his face, before he laid next to you. You immediately followed him, decorating the hot skin on his shoulders and collarbone with lazy, open-mouthed kisses. He weakly pawed at your waist to bring you closer to him, then dragged the bottom of your dress over your thighs to give you some decency.

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he pondered and gently pinched your ass. You snickered as you playfully swatted his chest, before laying your head on his pecs. His heart was beating wildly and it made you swoon, so much so that you had to lay a soft kiss between his pecs, just above the hem of his top before nuzzling even more into his blushed chest, as a content sigh fell from your lips. Your gaze couldn’t help but fall to his bulge - he was visibly affected by your previous endeavors.

“Javi…” you whispered in his neck, while your hand gently caressed his stomach. You felt his heavy exhale under you. “If you want… we can continue…”

“Oh! Of course, cariño!” he said, perking up, reaching out for the remote control and pushing the play button again, eyes immediately glued on the screen.

You laid there, having a mental tantrum. Well, things weren’t going the way expected. How can he still be thinking about the movie?

Squashing that ugly disappointment down, you turned in his arms to try to focus on the TV again. You weren’t allowed to complain, he said he would make you cum and you would continue the movie, and he did just that and more. You couldn’t help the ravenous hunger you had for this man though, it was never enough of him. You laid a soft kiss on his bicep below your head and your arm reached behind to gently shove him back against you. He followed you diligently, but he tensed as his bulge, now hard, rested against your ass again.

“I’m sorry honey, I’ll just need a minute,” he apologised quietly, voice strained from embarrassment and barely veiled desire.

The devil on your shoulder took over you as you rolled your hips against him slowly but deliberately. The filthy sound coming from deep in his chest melted your bones, making it hard to keep back your own needy whine.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

His strong grip on your hip felt like a warning, but his voice was so weak. That’s what made you throw all your culture out the window, giddy roiling in your guts from feeling him get fully erect against you. You barely registered your hand moving mindlessly, grinding your palm against him. His hand clenched around your forearm easily, but he didn’t move it away.

“I need you, Javi,” you begged shamelessly, turning your head back in his direction as much as possible.

“Fuck…” he breathed, eyes closed shut with a loud gulp. When he opened his eyes again his gaze was intense, one of his hands cradling your face as he propped himself up on his elbow to look deeply into your eyes. “I thought you wanted to watch the movie…”

That made you freeze with confusion, even your hand stopped moving over him.

“…me?” You asked incredulously. “I mean yeah, it does seem like a great movie and I’d happily watch it any other time, but I couldn’t wait to be alone with you the entire day. I’ve wanted to eat you up since we crawled out of bed this morning. But I’m happy to do anything as long as I’m with you– and you looked so happy to find that movie… I don’t know… I just didn’t want to ruin your joy with my neediness, I guess” you confessed hastily with warm cheeks.

A soft sound of surprise got stuck in his throat as he looked at you with saucer eyes, gaping like a fish. It looked rather comical if you were honest. If you didn’t feel so sheepish about your clumsy confession, you would have giggled at his expression.

He shook his head lightly, as if processing your words. “So that’s why you were acting so weird tonight!” He exclaimed, relief evident on his face. He breathed out your name softly, his thumb caressing your face ever so gently.

“I felt the same way the entire day. I got distracted by finding the movie, I give you that, but up until that moment, I was contemplating taking you in the bathroom in every single place we visited. Even in the car, consequences be damned,” he huffed, and you had to clench your thighs to alleviate the need growing between them again from the mental image.

“Cariño, I have the DVD now, I can watch it whenever I want!” He tutted, “I swear, one day I’m gonna write a screenplay for you to be the lead in it, you’re such a talented actress. You seemed so eager to watch this movie that I felt guilty for trying to distract you,” he smoothed a strand of hair behind your ear with a chuckle, “I suppose both of us were fools…”

You couldn’t hold back a rather unsexy snort at that, but it made him beam at you with crinkling eyes.

He cupped your jaw and leaned over to press a sweet kiss on your lips, but it immediately grew hungry. The stark difference between his precious face and the taste of yourself still on his tongue made a shudder run through your body.

Javi can really do both, you thought dreamily, but you were quickly snapped back to reality when he rolled you on top of him and deepened the kiss as he slowly sat up, helping you to position yourself on your knees around his hips. He planted his feet on the couch and grabbing your bare asscheeks firmly he dragged your pulsing center down on his bulge.

Your hands flew to his hair, arms resting on his shoulders, feeling like passing out when you felt his cock twitch against your bare pussy, tearing a low hiss out of him. He bunched up and gripped your dress around your torso.

“This little dress was teasing me all day,” he groaned, slowly pulling down the zip on your back, the edge of his thumb caressing your bare spine in the process. “It looks fantastic on you, honey, but I need to see all of you, right now.”

By the time he finished his thought, he already tugged it off of you, your breast jiggling in front of his face from the impact of falling out of the secure hold of the dress, his heavy gaze falling to them immediately, your body now bare in his lap.

“Oh god, look at you… tan bonita,” he murmured as his hands slid over your ribs firmly, before they slipped under your breasts with a feather-light touch.

He cupped the mounds gently as his thumbs smoothly explored the skin. The pad of his fingers traced your areola, then softly rubbed over your sensitive nipples. You arched your back, leaking some more wetness on his trousers as you rubbed yourself heavier on him. One hand molded a breast into his waiting mouth, tongue wiggling around the achy nub and the other slipping down your shivering stomach, across the top of your thigh and teasing at your seam across your ass.

The suckling sensation on your nipple, while his hand was prodding teasingly at your swollen entrance made you go insane. You had to center yourself around something. You clasped the back of the couch tightly, using it as support as you pushed your chest more in his face. Without hesitation, you vigorously moved your clit against his bulge, your head arched back in ecstasy.

His wrecked moan was the prize, your breast slipping from his lips as you watched a tremor course through his entire body. Once he came back to his senses he doubled down his efforts, nuzzling the other breast and sucking the pebbled nipple in his hot mouth.

His tongue started to swirl around the hardened nub at the same time as two of his fingers drowned in your slick pussy, finding your most sensitive spot with devastating accuracy. Your mind went blank, and your gasps came out in hiccups. Your instincts took over as you were riding his bulge with trembling legs, chasing your blinding pleasure. You only had enough wits to sit back to undo his belt, ripping off his fly, and with his help, you were able to push his pants down his thighs, freeing his erect cock.

His hand grasped the base and gently tapped it against your sensitive clit, and your hips started moving again, trapping his length under your pussy as you continued to slide over him. He softly bit on your nipple in response which blazed off fireworks in your lower stomach, his other hand never stopping its brutal pace grinding against your most sensitive spot. You were so close to cumming you could practically taste it on your tongue.

“Feels so good—,“ your voice was desperate, and he let out a wrecked moan around your breast.

The soft pulling sensation, coupled with the warm, wet caresses of his mouth on your nipple, the expert touch of his fingers on your g-spot, and the tantalizing friction of your clit rubbing against the ridges of his cock, quickly sent you spiraling into a world of ecstasy and pleasure. You came with a wail, your back arching and eyes rolling back. You faintly felt Javi’s hands at the base of your back and along your spine, keeping you close to him while his eyes feasted on you falling apart for him. You fell back on his shoulders, weakly grasping at his elbows as his palms caressed your back and he showered your neck with small kisses, humming quietly between them.

“You did so well, you’re fucking amazing,” he breathed against your skin, as you felt your pulse slow down a bit. He kissed a path down your sweaty chest and came back the same route. After some blissful peace, you felt his cock twitch against you and you whined.

“Do you have one more in you, mi amor? We can rest,” Javi asked gently, his eyes searching for yours.

Bless his heart, he made you come three times and he would finish the night here and there, hard as a rock. Your body was still buzzing and you felt sore from his thick fingers but one look at his sinful state was enough to get you in the mood again.

His lovely locks were now sticking to his face, the perspiration on his chest only making him glow even more. His mouth was agape, plush lower lip kiss-swollen, and his dark eyes silently pleading with you. Instead of giving him an answer, you gripped the hem of his tank top and peeled the offending item off of him as he held up his arms, helping you and keeping his lustrous eyes on yours.

Resting your hands on the top of his chest you kissed down his neck, between his collarbones. Sitting back lower on his legs, you could trace your tongue between his pecs and down to his soft stomach. You couldn’t help but kiss around his little belly, giving him a playful bite which made him jolt with a small laugh. Your finger traced the soft patch of hair below his navel, and understanding your silent request, he kicked down the remaining of his clothes while you kneeled on the side.

You were fascinated as you watched his cock in all its glory, shiny from your juices, precum already leaking from the angry, red tip. Your mouth watered at the sight, and you were already in motion to have a taste for yourself when he stopped you, gently putting his hands around your arms.

“It pains me to stop you, but the second I feel your mouth on me, I would be a goner.” His husky voice was layered with desire. “C’mere, I need to be inside you,” he added, and you almost jumped on him.

You crawled back over his hips while he pumped his cock a few times, his veins bulging in his cock and forearms. It was one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen and you filed the idea for later exploration. You went lower on him and he smeared his member over your slit, covering him in your juices generously again, then he prodded the head at your entrance.

“Come on, cariño, let me feel you, please,” he growled, and you carefully descended down on him.

You were over quite a few nights with him, but your pussy still struggled to accommodate his size, especially now that you were still sore and sensitive from earlier. The struggle felt like a pinch and you whined, but he cradled your face and kissed your forehead.

“It’s okay honey, take your time,” he whispered and let you take the lead for the moment.

He caressed everywhere he could reach. He sucked two fingers into his mouth and lead them to your clit, ever so slightly drawing circles around it. At first, it felt like a needle stab, but a few seconds later it turned into pleasure. You swallowed more of him with a quiver. You felt so full, even though you were still a few inches apart from sitting down completely.

His tongue found your breasts again, laving at the skin with bites and kisses alternating between them, tongue chasing your puffy nipple with confident laps. When he sucked in your soaked bud to bite down on it your cunt bottomed out, swallowing his cock entirely as a fresh wave of slickness coated his base. He tore away from your glistening nipple, burying his face between your breasts with a heavy groan.

“You’re so fucking tight around me,” he rasped into your damp chest. “You were made for me. And your skin is so fucking silky.”

Just to prove his point, his greedy tongue made its way up your chest, across your neck and jaw and to claim your mouth in a hedonistic kiss, as his hands grabbed the meat of your ass; not to force you to move, but to ground himself.

The kiss was a little clumsy, but no less toe-curling, his tongue exploring your mouth and teeth clashing as you started to rise and fall against him. You felt so full, as if he was in your guts. Your lungs burned as you felt more and more overwhelmed by the inferno in your body. You broke away from him only to lay back, hands grabbing his shins while continuing to move up and down on his cock.

The new angle was exhausting, but it rubbed your insides from just the perfect direction, and your vision blurred from the sensation. From this angle he had the best view of his cock disappearing in your puffy cunt, then appearing again, covered in your juices. Javi was hypnotized by the sight, his mouth dropping, and eyebrows knitted tightly together.

“That’s it, use me, just like that,” he grunted, trapped under your spell over him.

Heavy-lidded eyes followed your every move, and as he reached out to touch your overworked clit again your thighs started to tremble so hard that you couldn’t continue gyrating against him. He swore under his breath as you throbbed around him another time, and you leaned over his body to grab his shoulders.

He prompted you to rise higher on your knees above him as he secured his feet on the surface of the couch. One arm braced himself next to his torso, while the other slipped up your back to grab your shoulder from the back, and he started to pound into you mercilessly, stealing your breath. You could barely stay in place, so you grabbed the backrest of the couch as you felt tears pricking your eyes from the intensity.

“Are you close, baby? I’m so close but I need you to come first,” he strained, seemingly every muscle in his body tensing from the exertion.

He looked like a sculpture of a deity from ancient times, especially when his head fell back, the thick column of his gorgeous neck on full display. You could only nod, not being able to even form a coherent thought anymore as your desperate whines became constant. He raised his head again - he couldn’t keep his gaze away from where you connected, his face almost looked angry from the concentration.

“Fuckfuckfuck, rub your clit for me,” he roared, and you followed his order immediately.

Almost as soon as you touched your clit, you started shuddering violently with a loud and raspy cry, tears running down your face as he kept grazing your g-spot with every powerful thrust. You felt possessed as your entire body short-circuited, and your ears started ringing. You faintly registered his load painting your walls as your throbbing core milked him dry, his growl echoing in your ears.

You collapsed on him like a ragdoll, your sweaty bodies colliding as he kept you close to his chest. As you came back to your wits a few minutes later you felt raw and weak and vulnerable, but it was okay because Javi was there, embracing you with strong arms and gentle kisses across your face, swiping away your tears. His body was like a shelter as you clung to him with all your limbs and he kept you safe from whatever was happening outside of your bubble.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as his hand smoothed over your hair while his body swayed you gently.

“I’m… I’m more than okay,” you croaked, still feeling boneless as you weakly clasped into his body. “Thank you, this was a spiritual experience.” He huffed a small laugh at that.

“You are incredible,” he cooed.

You lazily nuzzled deeper into his neck with a hum, letting his scent calm your frayed nerves down. You stayed like that, limbs intertwined for a while, before Javi reluctantly pulled out of you, making the both of you groan as he gently helped you to lay on your back and he hurried to the bathroom in all his naked glory.

He came back soon, but that little time was enough for you to realize that your thighs and mound were drenched. That explains the out-of-body experience.

Javi sat down next to you, a warm and wet washcloth in his hand. He cleaned you up with reverence, eyeing the marks he had left over your body. He seemed worried, but you wore them with pride.

“That’s very kind of you, but I think we will need to shower anyway,” you smiled bashfully, and he placed a smooth kiss on your forehead.

“I wasn’t sure if you had enough energy for that,” he rasped.

“If you help me, it won’t be an issue,” you sat up slowly, your coordination akin to a newborn foal, his hand held out to help you to stand.

“Of course, cariño.”

His warm eyes made your knees buckle, this time not from your physical activities. As if on cue, the credits rolled on the screen with a blaring sound, and both of you jerked your head in its direction with alarm, obviously forgetting about the movie going in the background the entire time. You looked back at each other with wide eyes, laughter erupting out of you at the same time.

“So, you wanna watch the movie when we get back home?” He snickered.

“Definitely!” You perked up at the prospect of spending more time with him after your getaway. Besides, now it was your mission to finally really watch the movie. “Unless you’ll need me again,” you added, wiggling your eyebrows at him. He chuckled and smacked your ass gently.

“I was hoping for that answer.”

—————

THE END.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs & feedbacks are highly appreciated ♥️

#are you alright honey?#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #javi gutierrez smut #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x f!reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi guterrez oneshot #fanna writing

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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

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Humanity’s Most Favored Fantasy (Alastor x Reader)

Paring: Alastor x Reader

Description: It wasn't love. Alastor didn't feel love, not anymore. He'd lost that part of himself the day he died so it couldn't be love, could it?

Warnings: Look, I'm writing and it's not for a request. Angst. It's always angst. I just love Alastor's inhumanity, what can I say? This bitch is in denial. Also, bodies, blood, death, no gore but like, eh. Also Adam is in this one and he's his own warning. Loose Mistki quoting at one part. Also a loose Sappho quote “pale as grass” and self harm.

Word Count: 2,420

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A/N My classics major side came out a little bit in this one lol. Also I have a big classics major side fic in the wings so if you guys like this, just wait. Also Sir Pentious is from the 1800s so he for sure had a classical education. Also the title came from an article I was reading about the history of witchcraft for one of my classes.

The most complex and yet the most simple of the human emotions. Feared by some, wielded by others, out of reach for many, perennial for more still, and taken as easily as a breath of air by a solemn few. What a strange thing, love.

It was this last category that bewitched Alastor. Even when he had been alive, he had never understood the people like that, the ones who took heartbreak in stride, the ones who shared any love they had the minute they felt it with everyone and everything. The ones who weren't paralyzed by potential loss or violent embarrassment.

The people who feared love made sense. It had a vast capacity for harm, it was able to destroy without a second thought. Even when it was good, love could be devastating. Those who wielded it as their weapon of choice nearly fell into a subcategory of this group. They used other people's fear of the matter against them or they lured people in to get what they wanted and threw them to the curb without a second glance.

Everyone on earth, living or dead, had felt at least once that love was out of their reach, Alastor reasoned. Hopelessness is one of the most vital parts of the human condition, after all.

Perennial was the category in which most people fell. Love came and went. It lived and died, but always returned like the plants he had named this grouping for.

Then there were people like Y/n. Not a day went by where she wasn't explaining how much she adored something random or telling people she loved them, throwing the word around as if it had no weight, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to love, to share love. When Angel had made some snide remark about everything being her alleged 'favorite thing,' Y/n had quickly replied, saying:

"Aren't I lucky for that? Isn't that just wonderful?"

Alastor couldn't tell in which category he fell or what his opinion was about that answer of hers. One thing he did know was that Y/n was to be avoided at all costs.

She was the typical sinner. Never too bad of a person when alive, but never too good either. She wore her hedonism like a badge of honor, living her afterlife in much the same way Alastor assumed she had lived her living life: in a constant state of indulgence.

It wasn't the typical form of being that takes a person's mind when they think of the word. No, Y/n didn't indulge in a reckless, Dionysian way. Instead, she devoured everything. Books, good food, music, friends, you name it. Y/n had a million stories about each and a million examples of the best they all had to offer on hand. She relished in all that every word had to offer.

Alastor had overheard her talking to Charlie one night about that. He hadn't meant to, he had just been wandering the hotel, unable to sleep and in need of some air, when he'd heard a slight commotion in the lobby. Hidden by his shadows, he had entered the familiar space to find an exhausted Charlie standing tensely before a bulletin board.

"God is in the details." Y/n was saying as she adjusted the plans pinned on the structure so they were easier to read, more cohesive, "Anything can be a work of art, don't forget that. It's what makes everything so undeniably worth it."

She was so utterly out of his reach. Not that Alastor wanted Y/n in his reach, no. How ridiculous would that be: the Radio Demon, the most feared overlord in all of Hell, getting butterflies because he heard a girl tell someone else she loved them and imagined it was him. No, that would be utterly foolish which was why it wasn't the case, couldn't be the case. He must be getting sick, that was why his stomach had felt weird.

"What are you reading?" he heard Sir Pentious ask as the snake demon took a seat on the couch beside Y/n.

Alastor was at the bar, sharing a drink with Husk. His ear twitched in their direction.

"It's a book discussing the changes in interpretations of Sappho's poetry over time." Y/n replied, her tone soft and even.

It felt like a salve against Alastor's ears. Husk raised an eyebrow towards his master but made no remark.

"Really? I didn't know you were interested in that sort of thing."

"I was actually a professor in the human world... living world? Whatever. I didn't work on Sappho, I worked on ancient medicine, but I always found her intriguing and lovely. I mean, phainetai moi is creating a diagnosed love, using all the language of medicine. How could it not capture my attention?"

"You know, if you look at Homer, the same language Sappho uses is also used to describe love. She is actually working off a preexisting cannon of love as something painful and destroying."

"Really?"

"Yes, and curse tablets tend to draw off medical writings quite a bit as well, especially those involved in love magic."

"Huh, that’s a neat little intersection I have yet to explore: medicine, magic, and love. I never knew you knew so much about this. You died in the 1890s, right?"

"Sometime around then."

"I should have guessed then, my mistake. Tell me, what was it like growing up with all this wonder at your finger tips? It was hard for me to even find a university with a classics department, let alone a good one. You’re lucky to have had it all right there."

Now that was an interesting idea to Alastor. A diagnosable love, a painful and deadly thing. Love as a curse, love as being shot through by an enemy spear, love as a god. It made more sense to him than anything else about the matter had. Unavoidable, not something self imposed. A cursed love, a medical love, something that controlled a person rather than vice versa.

He lay awake at night, unable to speak, pale as grass, thinking unwillingly of the way her lips curved to form words, of the way one could see the gears of her mind turning behind her eyes. He lay awake, unable to do anything else. He stared at the ceiling.

"Ah! Angel! Thank you!" Y/n exclaimed as he handed her the sweater he'd spotted her eyeing a few days before when they'd been for a walk around town, "This was so kind of you!"

Alastor watched as Y/n pulled the lanky demon into a hug which he reluctantly returned, looking down at her with a platonic version of the sort of fondness that was so forbidden to him.

"Great work Angel!" Charlie clapped excitedly, "That's a step in the right direction."

No, it wasn't love. Alastor Hartifelt didn't love, he had lost that ability the day he had died and he'd barely had it before that. It didn't matter that his heart skipped a beat, there was no truth to his upset stomach when he had to speak to her except something bad he must have eaten. The sleeplessness wasn't new, sleep had never been his friend so to speak, the two had never really gotten along. The reason it got so stuck in his head, the way she threw her affection around, was the carelessness of it all, the foolishness. Only, what he had overheard her saying to Charlie that night, that anything can be a work of art, were the words of someone who acted purely on intention, who did nothing without considered thought.

Y/n couldn't be a wielder of love. Alastor never once saw her manipulate someone or even really ask anyone for anything at all. There was no way she was scared and the way she freely gave took her out of the other two categories as well. It didn't make sense. The intention, the earnestness, the true meaning behind her actions and words that always seemed to shine through no matter what she did, was what had him stuck. She barley even fit into her own category because of it. Most people that threw love around the way she did had the words and actions lose their meaning over time but, somehow, that seemed never to be the case for her.

He pictured a life on earth. He pictured walking with her beneath the stars, the way the light of the moon would play gently across her skin. He pictured her in the recording studio, the one he'd worked at while alive, waiting by the door for him to finish his work and taking him by the hand, dragging him off into the unknown. He pictured waking up beside her in the morning, all messy hair and smiles. He pictured, he dreamed, he dissolved. The doctors diagnosed him and he went to see other people because he didn't like the answer they gave him.

Y/n pulled Vaggie from her seat at the bar, spinning the demon into an ungraceful waltz to the music Alastor was playing on the piano for the group. He nearly fumbled, nearly missed a note. She missed so many steps and it didn't matter because she was laughing, and so was Vaggie. She didn't have to be perfect, but he did.

They each smiled ear to ear while Charlie clapped along to the beat. He imagined himself in Vaggie's place, he could practically feel his hands on the gentle curve of her hips. The world was half real.

It wasn't love because he didn't know her, he never spoke to her. It wasn't love because that was impossible, he couldn't love. It wasn't love because that was an ability he'd left in the world of the living. It wasn't love because she was too kind, too good, and he was nothing if not brutal and bloodstained to his core. It wasn't love because it couldn't be. It wasn't love because if it was...

It's not love. It's not love. It's not love.

He repeated the mantra to himself. Alone walking the halls, in meetings with the other overlords, making tea in the kitchen. He whispered the words to himself like a prayer.

It's not love. It's not love. It's not love.

Y/n was out of reach, untouchable, destined to join the ranks of Heaven while he remained rotting in Hell. It couldn't be anything else, no other future was possible which was why it wasn't love. She was made of all the things a human is and he was made of those a monster is. She was bright, she shined, and Alastor fed off the light of others, burning it out into darkness. He refused to do such a thing to her, he couldn't. Not when she was practically the sun. Not when he wasn't even a star but the black hole of the earth revolving around her.

He saw her holding Husk's hands over the bar top as he told her something, a look of deep concern etched into her features. He watched her pick Nifty up by the waist so the little demon could dust the tops of the bookshelves. He watched her, he waited, he would always be waiting because nothing could ever happen. Nothing would ever happen, he wouldn't allow it and goddamnit it wasn’t love.

It was also impossible, Alastor reminded himself. He had left that part of himself when he had died, it hadn't made the journey with him. The most favored fantasy of his own humanity, or what was left of it. The little spark of the person he had been that glowed softly from the center of his chest. Alastor had tried to douse it, tried to kill it, tried to rip it from himself but all he'd ever ended up with was bloody hands and torn flesh and the light pulsed on in its eternal hunger, its eternal hope, its eternal harm.

And then it was too late. Then, she really was gone, double dead or however anyone wanted to call it. Adam dropped her lifeless corpse to the ground and Alastor's world crashed in around him because no matter how many times he had said it wasn't, no matter how he had avoided her, no matter what he had done it had been love, or the beginnings of it at least. The closest thing to it he'd ever really felt. His hand tightened around the staff of his microphone. Alastor bared his teeth, he saw red.

"What have you done?"

Adam turned to him, grinning. Y/n deserved a viking funeral, to be surrounded by flowers and sent off in a burning boat. She deserved a Greek burial, reduced to ashes and buried with all the proper rites that made sure she would make it to the afterlife. She deserved, she was owed, he was angry.

"What." Adam laughed, "Was she your little bitch?"

Alastor didn't think he had any room left inside him for the fury, but found his rage redoubled at Adam's words.

"What did you just call her?"

"Your little bitch." Adam smirked, "She was a cute one, shame you all are gonna have to burn. Woulda kept her for myself."

Adam looked down, nudging Y/n's lifeless corpse with the toe of his shoe. Alastor attacked. There was no thought, no order, no grace, there was only the anger. Only now that it was too late, was he at last able to let loose, be less than perfect, exist in an unintentional manner. Or was it that this was the true meaning of intention -- reckless abandon? Y/n probably would have thought that. It didn't matter. It didn't matter what she would have thought, what any of them did think. It was too late. There was no more time and Alastor had come to terms with his own frailty a second past the buzzer. He would never forgive himself.

"You will pay for what you have done. You will die for what you have done."

Because it had been love, all along and Alastor, who had thought himself above it all, had been in that first group. He had been scared, not of what love could do but of what Y/n would, of what she had already done to him. Now it was too late and he would never get another chance.

"You will fucking die!"

----

Part Two --> → Humanity's Most Favored Fantasy pt. 2

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mythvoiced · 2 years

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🌼, 🍬, 💘, 👍 (for Hyun 👀)

@theimpalpable | sex+romance headcanons!

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🌼 Would my muse prefer a big wedding or a small wedding? ALEX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FKGHJ ;; Small wedding~ Just close connections, Miyoung, Seona, of course, who would Boram like to invite? :eyes: VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION, ALEX, I—NO okay but, getting my brain back into serious mode, I do think a small wedding. Even before captivity, and even more so after, Hyun’s always been a rather private person, especially with his feelings, his affections. He likes to keep things as these within close quarters, it’s his way of treating them as special as they are to him, by being selective with whom he shares them with, who he’d even let know, you know? So something homely, with home-cooked food, maybe, something that gives off the vibes of a garden tea party (I am weeping on the floor-) BUT WHAT ABOUT BORAM?? Because if Boram would prefer a big wedding, Hyun’s renting a stadium-

🍬 Is my muse a sub, dom, or switch? Touched upon before, but only in a general context. In a Boram-specific context, I feel the answer is a little clearer, while also sounding messier because of the Lena-Writing-It-Factor, oh boy- Intimacy is all about trust, Hyun would argue, no matter the nature of the intimacy. I’ve glubbered and blabbered before about Hyun’s reaction and relationship to first instances of physical intimacy and how it’d take him a moment to sort of crawl his way passed the various bases (which I find a silly way to refer to it, but also, linguistically speaking? Kind of cool~). Now, since this is all about trust to him, sort of losing all tension within him, I do think Hyun would naturally take on a more submissive role. Of course, I am of the idea, and my muses’ preferences probably reflect that, that preferences shape themselves according to the dynamic created between the given partners, so going into things stubbornly demanding to have it one way, I’m not quite sure if that would even work without it being at someone’s expense. And Hyun is the same, in the end things would settle into place between Boram and Hyun, I THINK OBVIOUSLY ALWAYS CORRECT ME WHEN I SPEAK OF BORAM, naturally and the dynamic would show itself as things happened, for lack of better way of phrasing it fkhlgkhlj. As a first response, reaction, instinct, Hyun would be more on the submissive side of things, though, because it’s almost his way of showing ‘I trust you completely’? But, honestly, it’s all about what’s preferred, sought out, in the given moment, he could just as easily take on a more dominant role if that’s how things are turning into, he’s not negated nor repulsed by the idea, honestly, he’s in it for the intimacy with Boram, he--

💘 What are the ways my muse says ‘I love you’ without actually saying it? COOKING~!! It makes my heart soars in ways I cannot hope to describe that I sort of know some answers here also from things we’ve spoken about before~ I LOVE YOU SO~ ♥ Ahem, so, cooking most definitely, generally things that show care for Boram’s well-being? Asking to be texted when he gets home, checking in at the first sign of exhaustion, paying enough attention, to notice if Boram is more exhausted than usual/slept less than usual. Remembering Boram’s preferences without ever wanting to make it obvious, because he doesn’t want it to be noticed in turn, he doesn’t like to be praised for caring, but remembering colours, tastes in particular. Remembering, I think, is a big deal. Noticing, you know? I don’t know if this counts, traditionally at least, as ways of saying ‘I love you’ without actually saying it, but it’s what came to me when I thought about it for Hyun. Watching. Paying attention. What upsets Boram and keeping it away from him, what brings him joy and bringing it closer to him. Never with the intent or methods that would take agency away from Boram, but, if he’s picking a film, why pick something that would upset him? And if he’s preparing them dinner, why not choose a flavour he knows Boram likes, if he can?

👍 Does my muse prefer to be asked on a date, or would they rather do the asking? BOTH! Hyun is particularly enamoured by the idea of things just… settling into place casually, if that makes sense? Hand holding because they can and because it’s natural and right for it to happen this way. He likes the idea of going somewhere and just considering it a date, he’s absolutely dramatic, of course, he will do dramatic things, but he’s also… Well, I’m leaving that in even though it might not make too much sense, but to try and answer better, and focus more on the actual question, most definitely both. He likes the idea of it just… coming up, without either party holding back because the other must ask. He wouldn’t care who asked more often, who had which idea, asking out for a date is ‘hey, want to spend some time together in a context that is specifically romantic?’, a question he both likes to ask and answer yes to.

#theimpalpable #the model;about #but also!!!!#our history is stained with blood but we grew flowers on this hill and shielded each other from the storm;boram & hyun #MANDATORY! I REFUSE TO POST IT WITHOUT FHKLGFGJLHG THEIR TAG I'm making no sense these days all I know is that!!!#I'M HERE AND READY TO STAN AND ADORE!!#I HOPE THESE ARE ENTERTAINING TO READ AND MAKE ANY SENSE?? ;W; OFC THESE HAD TO BE WRITTEN #with Boram in mind bc it's not just sex + romance headcanons in here it's SPECIFICALLY with Boram bc WHO ELSE WHO ELSE MY FRIENDS WHO-#thank you SO MUCH for sending these in FOR LETTING ME SCREAM ABOUT THINGS FKLHGFHJFGK I LOVE YOU SO HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A MOST WONDERFUL DAY #the only downside of me writing these offline and THEN queueing them is that if i had any other thoughts in regards i forgot them-- KLDFGJGH #i have a very small brain and a very distracted one at THAT--#i'll give you some MORE fun facts~ when I first made Hyun he'd given me the vibes of a more sexually active and a more sexually casual #muse especially if contrasted with the rest of my folks- BUT!! thanks to YOUR MOST WONDERFUL BRAIN and the #UNPARALLELED opportunity to yell back and forth about hyuram I have managed to actually semi-establish these things and at the very #least most definitely uncover more about Hyun in this context that is actually ACCURATE to them and FOR THE GIFT AND BLESSING #of allowing me just by being you to develop my muses this way? I--- I WILL INVENT A CURRENCY TO PAY FOR IT #also why is that gif major Hyun moments before smiling and saying something to Boram he shouldn't say in public #;queue #;answered

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sl-ut · 4 months

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random college!abby hcs

more!college abby

warnings: mentions of sex, drinking, drugs, and nudity, cursing, mild hint homophobia

first things first: jerry is alive and abby is his pride and joy

i'm serious... her mom died when she was a toddler and jerry hasn't had a long-term relationship since, so he's the only parental figure that she has

he took every precaution while raising her to make sure she always had everything she could ever need while also making sure that she didn't end up being an entitled brat

otherwise, she is very close with both of her father's siblings (her aunt is the only maternal relationship she has and definitely relied on her for all of her personal issues as a teenager), has a good relationship with jerry's mother and step-father

her mother was an only child, but her parents always come over for thanksgiving and even christmas sometimes

she was very supportive of her father taking in yara and lev after she moved out. she knew he was suffering from a severe case of empty nest syndrome. she def makes them feel so welcome right away like those strangers became her siblings in a matter of minutes

i'll only say it once ppl: OLD MONEY

jk i'll say it again. the andersons are a long line of surgeons and doctors so obvi they're gonna be well off

like, not "fund a research facility to get my kid into college" rich, they're more "i casually have a summer home, a ski chalet, and a ridiculously nice house to live in year round" rich.

her only real relationship was in high school (trigger warning: it was owen)

our bby had a bad case of comphet as a teenager

like fr she had not even considered the fact that she might be gay until she was two knuckles deep in some sorority girl during a party in her freshman year

after that she sort of just accepted it, she had no concern of her dad bc obviously he would be so accepting and supportive, but a few of her relatives def had an issue with it right off the bat (old money, old values)

she's been friends with manny, nora, owen, and mel since middle school, and the only one whose view of her seemed to change was owen (and mel too ig bc she stopped seeing abby as such a threat)

he drunkenly questioned her about it once, saying something super gross and along the lines of "you didn't seem gay when we were together"

to which she responded by offering him two choices; he could sit down and shut up or she would knock him tf out

he's cooled it since then but everyone knows that he still has a big fat crush on her so he still wants to believe he has a chance (even tho he was literally already talking to mel before they broke up and announced they were together only a few days after)

she's pre-med, majoring in bio and minoring in something totally different like classical lit or history or something

she's gonna end up being an orthopedic surgeon but later on in her career i can see her turning to teaching at a university or something

like doctor!abby turned prof!abby???? omg

is very health conscious

she's a gym rat, this we already know

she also takes her diet very seriously as well, but always has a secret stash of junk for when she really needs it

also careful with her alcohol/drug intake

she drinks on occasion (birthday, christmas, new years, etc, etc) but usually not very much (will almost always be sober enough to be the sober driver if need be)

she refuses to do any drugs during lacrosse season. she's so strict with her diet during the season that she won't ingest anything other than quality, nutritious food. she also needs to submit a drug test a few times per season so she doesn't wanna risk it.

in the off season, she's more willing to have a puff or two at a party or take an edible before a movie night or something (i don't see her doing any drug other than weed)

she lived with manny during her freshman and sophomore years

they had a shitty little apartment a few minutes away from campus

it was the only one that manny could afford on a student budget, and he refused abby's offer to get a nicer apartment and let her pay a larger portion of the rent than he did

they still had fun either way

manny loved having another person he could talk about girls with (he was initially gonna move in with owen but then he got ditched for mel)

every sunday morning they would get takeout for breakfast so manny could recount his night with the girl that had snuck out only a few hours earlier

she was a little hesitant to join in and share her own stories, but she finally got more comfortable in talking to him about it (RESPECTFULLY!!!!!!! she was so scared that she was gonna end up sounding like a literally disgusting pig but she keeps the details to a minimum and only says nice things unless the girl was a major bitch)

she's a lululemon/gymshark girly. her go-to style is definitely any variation of athlesiure. she wears lots of joggers, dry-fit tops, and the cleanest pair of white sneakers you'll ever see

underneath, i'm picturing her as more of a bralette type of girl. obviously she wears a sports bra to the gym, but on a regular basis, she likes wearing bralettes over bras bc she doesn't need that much support so they offer just enough without the discomfort of a bra

i'm settling the debate rn everyone, college!abby wears boxers AND panties

she finds boxers more comfortable on a day to day basis, but she likes wearing cheekies and thongs especially when she's wearing leggings

so dorky

she was definitely a sci-fi/fantasy kid

she grew up on harry potter, lord of the rings, star wars, etc etc

would love a partner who would watch them with her and actually enjoy it

unironically makes gym thirst traps on tiktok

her followers always comment supportive things like: looking good!, major gainssss, muscle mommy come destroy this pu-

still wears the iconic braid, but usually only when she's on the field. she occasionally wears her hair down, but i hc that she still likes to wear her hair pulled back in a cute little braided ponytail or a messy low bun

when she's older SHE CUTS HER HAIR OMG OMG OMG like literally i'm purring rn

like ik you've all seen that edit of her with super short hair omg she's so hot

in her junior year she decided to live on her own

manny moved in with jordan, who had been begging him for a while since the rent was more than he could handle on his own, though manny's rent would actually be cheaper than it was in his apartment with abby

they still do their traditions tho, still having sunday breakfast, still going to the campus pub on fridays for trivia, still going to the gym together on wednesdays...

they're actually besties i love them

when she's on her period, she craves salty foods

is so frustratingly confident in her emotions

will always try to diffuse the situation and pissing the other person off with her calmness

takes really good care of her skin

her favourite drink is diet cranberry gingerale

she's a dog person, but she would definitely enjoy having a cat around too

adopts a rescue dog a few weeks after finishing her residency

uses old spice fiji body wash and deodorant (SHE SMELLS SO FUCKING GOOD) and a musky vanilla body spray

likes to feel and be clean, but isn't too fussed about her body hair so long as it looks tidy. she isn't anti shaving, and will probably make an effort to shave more regularly in the early stages of a relationship until she's more confident and comfortable around the person

NSFW

down-there hair? duh

like i said, she likes to keep things tidy so she'll trim and maybe shave her bikini line if she's feeling it but that's it. she's not fussed with body hair, whether it's her or her partner's

again, she'll make an effort to keep herself looking neat and tidy for the first bit of a relationship but after a few weeks she's not afraid to go full-bush when she doesn't wanna shave

she doesn't love penetration. fingers are one thing, but she has only had not-so-great experiences with sex that involved a penis-like object. she'd wanna be the one wearing the strap for the most part, but she'd be willing to try it again with the right person

slow and passionate sex >>>>>

considers herself to be very vanilla but she's actually kinda kinkyyyyy (she gets so embarrassed and blushy when anyone calls her out for it)

she prefers scissoring to using her strap (but she LOVES her strap)

she doesn't like to choke her partners, but she will reach her hand up and just hold their throat while they're fucking

she's always so sensitive

came in like thirty seconds during her first time with another girl

she's noiiiiisssyyyyyyyy

she usually starts out with just heavy panting breaths, then they turn into deep grunts, then she begins to whine from low in her throat, and finally she begins to gasp out words of praise or curses

she squirts teehee

like i said she's always so sensitive, so if she's any ways worked up when someone's going down on her they better watch out bc they're in the splash zone

her strap is purple and sparkly

abby anderson eats ass

her nipples are super sensitive too

not really nsfw but she really loves casual nudity with her partners, changing in front of each other, hopping in the shower together, using the bathroom with the other person in the room...

she's a boob girl. doesn't matter if they're big, small, saggy, or perky, she just wants to suck them

when she's on top, she likes to pull her partner's leg over her shoulder and will just start like trailing kisses along the length of their calf

she's a literal munch

will use it to her advantage too

tells her partner she'll go down on them if they finish their assignments

#reader insert #x reader #imagines #lesbian #abby anderson #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby tlou #college!abby anderson

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pastanest · 9 months

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Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: guess who’s back with another shrimp reid fic. that’s right, you guessed it, Im ovulating

gif from an unnamed source on google so if it’s yours please let me know and I’ll credit!! ♡

Mean It

The bond you have formed with the resident genius of the BAU is one that you treasure. Every morning, you are most excited to practically skip into the office with the brightest smile on your face, just for him. The wonder, the magic that is Doctor Spencer Reid, and you are lucky enough to call him your closest friend.

He is endlessly fascinating to you. Unlike the rest of the team, you have never once cut one of his rambles short, you have listened to each and every one in its entirety, with stars in your eyes.

The two of you talk about anything and everything, from the most mundane smalltalk to the deepest philosophical debates, and you enjoy every moment spent in Spencer’s company.

However, as you perch on Spencer’s desk in what has become a morning tradition, the look on your face as you glance around the office makes your dear friend’s heart sink, because he knows who you are looking for.

And right on cue, Derek Morgan strolls into the office, yelling an overly enthusiastic question that is - much to Spencer’s dismay - ritualistic, too.

“WHERE’S MY PRETTY GIRL?”

The beaming smile on your face as you hop off of Spencer’s desk and run into Derek’s open arms is worse than a bullet wound, which Spencer knows to be true without any actual proof.

He watches on, wondering if his skin is turning green with jealousy, as Derek picks you up and spins you around, the two of you laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world. What’s so funny about that? Spencer thinks bitterly, frowning at his computer and forcing himself to shift his focus, though his subconscious continues to grumble. If he was ever allowed the privilege of holding you like that, the last thing he’d do is laugh about it.

Thankfully, the morning event is over as quickly as it began, and you skip back over to Spencer with a smile that’s different to the one you had for Derek. What shade of green is Spencer now?

“Sorry about that, Spence, gotta reach my daily hug quota!” You chime.

Spencer’s stomach drops. He wants so badly to offer his own services, to perhaps suggest some variety in who is allowed to meet your daily-hug-quota and enquire whether you’d consider his application, whether he meets your criteria. But, in what can only be described as the worst preconceived notion in human history, Spencer does not like physical contact in the majority of circumstances, as you have well known since the day you met him and he proposed a kiss would hold less germs than a handshake, which made you blush in a way his eidetic memory has never let him forget. He wishes, more than anything, he could travel back in time to that very day, to add a clause to the contract he’d bound himself to, some fine-print that said ‘physical contact from and with (Y/N) is the only exception to every typical circumstantial preference for no physical contact’. Alas, Spencer Reid had unintentionally doomed himself.

Today is a rarity, in which the team have spent the day confined to the BAU building, filing case reports and talking amongst themselves. You speak to Spencer most of all, because on the occasion anyone else speaks to him, he finds he is too distracted by you to fully focus his efforts on the conversation.

As per usual, you wait at the elevator doors for Spencer, never walking out of the office without him in an unspoken gesture of your sweet appreciation for his company.

“Oh, Spence, did you want to have a Doctor Who sleepover tonight?” You suggest suddenly, causing Spencer’s eyes to widen and his heart to skip simultaneously.

“Y-Yes! Of course!” He blurts out, perhaps a little too quickly. Perhaps, he should have paused for a beat, giving you the impression he had been able to form a degree of a coherent thought before he answered you.

Instead, Spencer spends the elevator ride down to the ground floor glancing at you with a dazed look in his eyes, like you are the first star he’s ever seen and he’s too shy to look at you for too long. Why would he be shy in the presence of a star? Stars are out of his reach, beyond the realm of his capability to hold. That metaphor had been far more applicable than he’d realized.

The drive to your house is spent in accordance with your typical pre-sleepover routine; Spencer says he doesn’t mind what music you play, and you select one of your many playlists at random, singing and dancing in such a theatrical way in the passenger seat of Spencer’s car that he truly wonders if he didn’t have an IQ of 187, would he be able to split his focus between adoring you and concentrating on the road?

In what feels like no time at all, you and Spencer are sitting on your sofa with a blanket each and a bowl of popcorn between you that Spencer finds himself internally cursing with every unkind word he knows, as he does each and every time that pathetic plastic bowl forms an impassable barrier between him and you. Occasionally, his fingers are lucky enough to brush yours if you happen to reach for popcorn at the same time. You always chuckle like it’s a coincidence, never quite catching onto the way in which Spencer studies your movements in his peripheral vision to calculate, down to a fine science, how long it takes you to finish one handful of popcorn before you’ll reach for another, and he can just so happen to plan his movements accordingly. All for a brush of your fingertips. In truth, Spencer would run through a burning building just for the chance to hold your hand, even if it wasn’t promised. The chance, that’s all he needs.

In the midst of what is otherwise a very traditional evening shared between the two of you, Spencer feels different. The more he thinks about how this evening could play out if Derek Morgan were in his place, the more Spencer wonders if his eyes are playing tricks on him or if the skin of his hands is turning green with jealousy. Would the bowl of popcorn be in the same place? Would it be on your lap, or Derek’s, allowing the two of you to sit closer, considering you already showcase just how comfortable you are together? Or would it be on the coffee table, leaving no obstruction between you and Derek at all? Would his arm be around you, and would your arm be around him in return? Would you be telling Derek the pieces of movie trivia that Spencer had been the one to tell you, when you watched a movie with Derek that you had previously seen with Spencer? Do you wish Derek was here with you instead? ‘Nauseous’ is too small a word and does not contain enough profanities.

“I’m not gonna get through all this popcorn on my own, Spence.” You chuckle quietly, having noticed that your company hasn’t reached for popcorn in some time due to how cold your hand feels, having not flushed at the sensation of his fingertips in too long.

“Sorry, not hungry.” Spencer murmurs.

The sadness in his voice sets off alarm bells in your head immediately, and you pause the movie, discarding the bowl of popcorn that Spencer’s scowl follows all the way to the coffee table, while you turn to face him on your couch.

“Spence, what’s the matter? Do you feel sick?” You ask gently.

Yes, actually, viscerally.

“Nothing, I’m-“

You shake your head, the only time you’ll ever cut him off is when he tries to deflect. “Don’t. I can see something’s wrong, and if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay, but can you please tell me what I can do to help?”

Of course, Spencer’s feelings for you have a solid foundation in the perceptive and attentive person that you are, forever seeing right through him.

“Do you…Do you ever have movie nights with Morgan?” He asks timidly, his head hanging in shame, his gaze fixed on his lap.

Spencer’s question completely catches you off guard, and your jaw drops, an amused smile gracing your features in utter bewilderment.

“What? No, Derek’s never even stood on my doorstep, Spence, why do you ask?” You question the motives of his query, and he sighs in defeat.

“I just figured…you’re so comfortable with him, you must want to spend time with him outside of work, too. I guess I just don’t understand why you’d invite me instead. Do you pity me, or something?” Spencer asks in a dejected and small voice.

The cogs in your brain are turning, your expression softening in turn.

“Spencer, I don’t pity you, I invite you because I enjoy spending time with you.” There’s a delicacy to your words, recognising his fragile state.

And Spencer’s foolish, lovesick heart sings from beneath the ruins at your words, at the tiniest spark of hope that is immediately suffocated by his own insecurities.

One word from you has the power to make and break him, all at once.

“But you enjoy Derek more.” Spencer’s voice breaks on the last word he speaks, and he closes his eyes in a pained blink, turning his face away from you completely in an effort to shield himself from the kindness he’ll see in your gaze. “You sit with me every morning while you wait for him, and the second he’s there, you’re gone. The way you smile at him isn’t the same way you smile at me. I understand that you don’t feel the same way about me, but I don’t understand why you’d waste any time on me outside of work, based on that.” Spencer is trying his absolute best to phrase everything he says in his usual objective, matter-of-fact tone, but the hurt in his words is so clear.

“Spencer,” You sigh gently, “Will you look at me, please?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t.”

“Why not?” You ask in the same soft voice that makes his heart ache.

“I’ll forget how much this hurts the moment I look at you.” Spencer mutters.

“Don’t you want to forget?” You question, almost pleading.

Spencer shakes his head. “If I forget, I’ll throw myself back into the same cycle of pining for you, living off of your smiles and glances and the instances where I make you laugh.”

Your heart breaks at his words, and for a few seconds, you don’t say anything. The very moment the idea enters your mind, you reach for Spencer’s hand, holding it gently in both of yours, and immediately, his wide eyes have turned to stare at you.

And your tears. You must have only started crying after you last spoke to him, because if you had been crying in the midst of your reply, Spender wouldn’t have been able to hear anything else.

And just like he predicted, the sight of you makes him forget every ounce of his own pain, his heart breathing a sigh of relief and reaching out for you in pure anguish at the sight of you, in tears.

“Why are you crying?” Spencer asks, his voice barely above a whisper. If it wasn’t for your tears, the way you are holding his hand would render him incapable of forming a single word.

“Because you have no idea that you’re my favorite person in the universe, Spencer.” You sniffle.

Spencer frowns slightly. “Please don’t say that if you don’t-“

“I mean it.” You cut his deflection short again. “I come into the office every morning excited at the thought of seeing you, and I stay sitting on your desk, as close to you as I’m allowed to be, until we’re forced to work; the only time I leave your desk in the mornings is to briefly greet Derek, because he is the only person who knows how I feel and he hugs me in the way I wish you would, to make me feel better.” You explain through your tears. “And you’re right, I don’t smile at you the same way I do at Derek.”

Spencer is uncertain as to whether his heart has given out entirely.

He blinks. Once. Twice. And a third time. Then rapidly, six times, to blink the tears away that dared blur the perfect vision of you in front of him.

“I treat you differently to Derek because I adore you enough to never want to risk overstepping your boundaries with physical contact. I sit on your desk to resist hugging you every morning, I put a bowl of popcorn between us whenever we watch a movie because I’m afraid I’ll subconsciously lean closer to you, and it hurts to put those limitations in place, to feel the ever present distance between us, but I don’t care, because I do it for you, and I’d do it for you forever.” You add, the words falling from your lips so easily, Spencer can almost feel how long you’ve been holding them in.

“(Y/N)…” He chokes out the only word his heart and soul can remember in this moment.

“I never meant to make you feel like you are less important, or that I like you less- I’m so sorry.” The waterfalls from your eyes are too constant for you to manage now, and you let go of Spencer’s hand to hold your own face instead, hiding yourself and your guilt from him in your state of vulnerability.

Spencer glances at the popcorn bowl on the coffee table for a fraction of a second, before he shuffles over on the couch to occupy the space he had been aching to steal from that bowl since your very first sleepover, and very slowly, he wraps his arms around you. And it’s instinctual, the way your hands come away from your face as you wrap your own arms around his neck, your face finding the home it had always longed for in Spencer’s shoulder. As if slotting into place, you find yourself sitting on his lap with no real understanding of how you got there, because all that matters is that he is holding you there.

“I’m sorry for getting jealous, I had no right to.” Spencer’s apology breaks the silence, and he speaks into your hair, his every sense soaking in the sensation, the scent of you.

“I’m glad you did, but you didn’t need to. I’ve been yours since the day we met.” You say, as if your words are a casual statement and not life-altering in a way that changes Spencer Reid’s very brain chemistry.

“You’ve been mine?” He repeats your statement as a disbelieving question.

Wiping your tears with your sleeve, you sigh dramatically. “Yep. Just waited around for you to notice.”

And Spencer can’t quite believe it, but he laughs, shaking his nose into your hair and holding you tighter against his chest.

“I’m sorry for being oblivious, in that case.” He apologizes, his tone more lighthearted now.

“I’m sorry too.” You chuckle.

“From what I understand of confession-scenes, they are not supposed to contain this many apologies.” Spencer muses, making you laugh heartily, his soul very nearly rising out of his body at the sound.

“Everyone knows the best confessions have a bit of angst.” You joke, and Spencer nods, laughing with you.

“And you do have a proclivity for dramatics.” Spencer teases, and you playfully poke his chest, the two of you sharing a giggle like a pair of giddy teenagers.

A pleasant minute of silence passes as you revel in holding each other, an intimacy once pined after finally being felt in full-force, until a question rises in you that simply has to be asked, or you will burst.

“Does this mean that, going forward, our sleepovers can include makeouts?” You pull away from Spencer’s chest enough to watch the shade of pink blossom in his cheeks, his pupils dilating as he looks into your eyes, and he nods.

“I-I believe that is a feature that is well-worth adding to our list of sleepover activities.”

And when he says it like that, how can a girl be expected to do anything but kiss him senseless in response?

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #x reader #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons #Spotify

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pommedepersephone · 6 months

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Buck up, Hamlet! or how Aziraphale and Crowley's blocking helps communicate the evolution of their relationship

Can we talk about the blocking?

Specifically, I have been rewatching S1E3, one of my favorites. I love how the development of the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley is shown through these little vignettes. There have been some great explorations of the costuming and dialogue, but what always strikes me is the BLOCKING. The way their placement and movements add such depth and tell the story of living as a queer person, having to communicate in coded language.

Through the episode, we get 4500 years of history - Eden, Mesopotamia, Golgatha, Rome and Wessex - to see Aziraphale and Crowley standing on their opposite sides. Aziraphale always on the right, Crowley always on the left. But after the Arrangement, their blocking changes drastically and becomes much more fluid and nuanced. Each scene after this is distinct but the scenes in at the Globe and the Bastille have the most development, and I find myself rewatching them A LOT. Here is what I see.

All the World's a Stage

This is the first meeting we see that isn’t a chance encounter, though the two try to stage it as such. It takes place in a theatre - and they are acting, playing their roles as demon and angel. Even the humans are complicit in this performance, with Shakespeare stepping in to address the two "in your roles as the audience." Oh, delicious.

But once it's been firmly established for anyone watching that they AREN'T friends, they DON'T know each other (cough cough) the following moves are clearly choreographed and have been played out many times before. Crowley sashays to the right, opening the dance, and Aziraphale accepts the invitation to dance with: “What do you want?”

“Why ever would you insinuate that I might possibly want something?” Crowley is just playing his role as cheeky demon offering up a temptation - but his position to the right of Aziraphale speaks to the fact that they are both very complicit in this performance.

“You are up to no good.” “Obviously. And you are up to good, I take it? Lots of good deeds?” Just standard character establishment, here.

“No rest for the, well, good." Ah, this line, the inversion of the well known idiom. Because the line between good and evil (and between angel and demon) maybe aren't so distinct, and Aziraphale acknowledges this with his words. We are moving into negotiations now. "I have to be in Edinburgh at the end of the week. A couple of blessings to do, and a minor miracle to perform. Apparently, I have to ride a horse.”

“Ah hard on the buttocks, horses. Major design flaw, if you ask me. I’m meant to be headed to Edinburgh too this week. Tempting a clan leader to steal some cattle.” The way Crowley moves AROUND Aziraphale here, intimate but also careful, watching for his reactions.

“Doesn’t sound like hard work.” Said with a little sideways look, because Aziraphale can see where this is going. And he's open to suggestion temptation.

“That was why I thought we should… well, bit of a waste of effort. Both of us going all the way to Scotland.”

“You cannot actually be suggesting what I infer you are implying?” A little bit of pretense, because Aziraphale has to pretend to be tempted, right?

Crowley presses. “Which is?” Because he is willing to play the part of tempting demon, but only if it is clear this is a farce, that this is indeed mutually agreeable. He is making sure they are doing the same dance.

"That one of us goes to Edinburgh and does... both. The blessing and the tempting."

Yes, they are doing the same dance, and what is left is the formality of concluding the dance - a moment of Aziraphale expressing his concern for Crowley, the coin toss - they both know how it ends. It's a ritual, an act of give and take.

But if it were ONLY the Arrangement, a simple quid pro quo, it would have ended there. It doesn't. Instead, the two offer each other a more intimate exchange - "It'd take a miracle to get people to come and see Hamlet."

Aziraphale doesn't even have to ask with words, just a look, and Crowley happily agrees. That is the final part of the dance, a small acknowledgement that this isn't just about making their jobs easier.

A Free Man in Paris

Paris is something else. This is a HUGE step beyond making sure that audiences like a show your angel is particularly fond of. This is a stolen dangerous moment, an OUTRAGEOUS flirtation that takes place outside of time, conducted in clear view of others but beyond their understanding. Isn’t that how their entire relationship is now conducted, hidden in plain view and so clearly affectionate?

And look, Aziraphale is BITCHY in this scene. Peak That Bitch. He's just purchased a bookshop, he's creating a very permanent place for himself here on earth - Aziraphale is feeling quite proud of himself. In fact, he's preening a bit that he has figured out how to exist, even in some small limited way, as himself within the confines of the system of Heaven. Buuuut he may have gone just a bit too far, and gotten himself in a spot of trouble. He has landed in a prison, threatened with "death" and stuck because he's already gotten a warning about being frivolous with his miracles. Oh jolly good that Crowley is here to save the day!

There is something raw being communicated here here, where both Aziraphale and Crowley are presenting themselves to the world in ways that are dangerous. Aziraphale's reaction tells us that Crowley's look is doing things to him, but also in a way that it is NOT socially appropriate. Aziraphale may have showed up in all the trappings of an English aristocrat, but here is Crowley as a French royal sympathizer. NEITHER of these are safe choices in the middle of a revolution. The costuming is so critical to fully appreciating this scene, so check out the amazing clothing overview with @cobragardens.

When Crowley arrives and stops time, he and Aziraphale find themselves situated facing one another, but angled so they aren’t facing straight on. Interestingly, from Crowley’s perspective, he is where he is supposed to be - the left of Aziraphale. But Aziraphale, from his perspective, is also to the left of Crowley. It was Aziraphale after all who initiated this situation, who put himself in danger by being too… Aziraphale. It’s dangerous to be yourself when you don’t fit into heteronormative social expectations, isn’t it? Still, the two keep up a very flirtatious banter as they discuss the situation, and Crowley maintains his very-intentionally-unbothered sitting position up until Aziraphale goes too far and thanks him for coming to his rescue.

While Crowley is also flirting with danger in the way he is dressed, he also didn't just pop over for a nibble dressed this way. And whatever he might have been up to was interrupted so he could rescue Aziraphale from the consequences of his own reckless authenticity. After removing the chains, Crowley pushes Aziraphale to reconsider his honest expression of himself in this exact place and time - for the sake of survival.

Aziraphale, willing to risk himself alone, rather quickly adopts a more acceptable appearance when it might impact Crowley. It is only after Aziraphale is safely disguised and returned to his proper place to the right of Crowley, ONLY then does Crowley restart time. They can go enjoy lunch now, with the proper precautions and masks in place.

For these two particular human-coded occult beings, this is also such an honest moment. They both showed up damn authentically - Aziraphale so fabulously ostentatious, focused on chasing down some pleasure (in this crepes) and Crowley wrapped in a clear protest against the current violence. Just as Aziraphale indicated with his "Oh good LORD" as he looked the demon up and down with obvious thirst, Crowley's request to Aziraphale to change his appearance and mask better is done in such a way that affirms that Crowley LIKES who Aziraphale is without the mask.

The scene is so playful on the surface, the body language and dialogue flirtatious. It's something so familiar to the queer experience, making light of the absolute danger that we must sometimes navigate just to exist. The more I watch it, the more obsessed I become.

A Spot of Bodysnatchin'

It is worth remembering that we didn't get this scene in S1.

I am going to go through it soon, because again they dance back and forth beautifully in this minisode, but suffice to say we all know... it didn't end well for Crowley.

No Walk in the Park

The moment in St. James Park is brief, and it wasn't until S2 and the meeting at Edinburgh that we got the full context for this meeting. But even without this, we can clearly see that things are weighing heavily on Crowley. The scene in the Bastille took place in a prison, with the threat of execution over their heads. The juxtaposition of this conversation taking place in a park - a place that is not only NOT inherently dangerous but looks lovely and welcoming - only highlights the change in Crowley's attitude. He still attempts to be playful, but he's afraid. Look at that paper, it's a bit crumpled, he's been carrying it around for a while.

They are firmly entrenched on their assigned sides for the entire conversation, both very stiff. It feels uncomfortable to watch. When Aziraphale refuses his request, and indicates whatever is between them is just "fraternizing" with the enemy, we get a glimpse of how fearful Crowley really is. In none of these flashbacks has Crowley ever spoken to Aziraphale with the anger we see here. When they part in anger, it feels wrong.

Take Me to Church

So there is a long break between meetings now. But then, ah, the church. The place Aziraphale realizes his feelings. (Look, if Michael says this is where Aziraphale realized he'd fallen in love, I am not here to argue.) What I love is that again we see Crowley and Aziraphale swapping sides. Crowley is here to save his wayward angel, AGAIN. Despite feeling the ill effects of walking on consecrated ground, Crowley is here to save his angel and defeat Nazis. It's definitely not remotely evil intentions.

It isn't like the Bastille, but some of the parallels exist - Aziraphale failing to grasp the risks of his actions. And the silliness of his little dance coupled with just how deadly serious this situation is harks back to their flirtations in the prison.

Crowley is to the right of Aziraphale from the time he arrives until the bomb drops. Then in the rubble, with the danger past, we see them on their assigned sides again. UNTIL Crowley hands Aziraphale the books he saved with a "little demonic miracle of my own." He then crosses Aziraphale, and we see the look of absolute adoration as the angel watches him walk away to the right.

Sweeeeeet baby Jesus, baby girl has it BAD.

Always Crashing in the Same Car

This extremely heartbreaking scene has been dissected, chewed over, breaking our little hearts with it's sharp pieces.

But it is purposeful that this scene took place in the Bentley. Being in the car is symbolic because Aziraphale is here making an offering to Crowley, in his space, something that he Aziraphale feels is WRONG which is highlighted by his placement to the left of Crowley. He is scared, acting against all his own desires, but he does it anyway because he cares for Crowley. It's simple, powerful placement. Need to hurt more? Yeah, thought so. Take a deeper look at the dialogue with @zionworkzs.

#good omens meta #look the blocking has me feeling things #just brilliant #i am very normal about them #neil gaiman #good omens #just theatre kid things

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cupid-styles · 7 months

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you're my last shot

second blurb of my fall/halloween series ! this one honestly has nothing to do with halloween but imagine it happens in fall :) there will be a halloween-themed blurb for them coming on sunday!

word count: less than 1,000

content warnings: pregnancy, discussion pertaining to abortion (no action taken)

masterlist | talk to me

fall blurb masterlist

. . .

Y/N isn't quite sure when she and Harry started hating each other so much.

It's been months, probably. Maybe a year? She doesn't really remember; all she knows is that the second he melded into their friend group, she thought he was cocky and annoying, flirting with every person who so much even looked his way, and she didn't like that. She didn't like him.

The mutual hatred between them was fine up until now, but... now, it seems like it's a major inconvenience, because Y/N is standing in her bathroom staring down at four positive pregnancy tests and Harry — she shudders — is the only person she's slept with in the past three months.

It had been a moment of weakness. A huge one. Massive, really, fueled by a few too many drinks at the bar, a shared spliff outside, an alcohol-fueled decision of, "well, we live in the same neighborhood, may as well just take an Uber together" that ended in a heated makeout session, followed by one of the most passionate nights Y/N has ever had. (She'll never admit that to him, but she swallows it down for herself.)

There was something about that night. He was being less... awful than he typically was when their friends went out. He didn't eye fuck the entire bar, didn't buy any drinks for the cute girls flirting with him. He was tolerable and apparently that was enough for Y/N — well, drunk Y/N who gets a little too horny when she has rosé in her system, and when she eyed his large hands and tattoos in the Uber, and she felt him shift just a little bit closer to her in the backseat, and when he whispered "just for tonight, no one has to know" into her ear, she was a goner.

And now she's pregnant with his child.

What the fuck?

. . .

It turns out that that's Harry's exact response.

"You said you're on birth control—"

"I am."

"So what the fuck happened—"

"It must have failed, Harry, there's still a chance of conception even with the pill."

"Are you serious—"

"Do you think I would joke about this?"

He's pacing around the diameter of his living room, trying to digest the news. She understands. It took her about 48 hours to process that this was happening to her, and then an additional 24 when she realized she had to tell Harry. She hadn't told anyone else — not any of their friends or her mom, because she wasn't sure what she wanted to do and she didn't want her decision to be fueled by any outside opinions. As much as she despised him, she believed Harry was the only other person who had a say in this.

Finally, he sits down. Well, it's more a noisy thump as he crosses his legs on the carpet, burying his head in his hands. She sighs, feeling marginally bad for him, even if she was having the same response a few days ago.

"Listen, I'm fine to have an abortion. I know we're both pro-choice and we really don't have to do anything with this... thing. Just, like, Venmo me half the money for one and I'll get it done."

Harry looks up at her, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Why would you get an abortion?"

"Why wouldn't I get an abortion?"

"Because I want to be a dad," he says with a shrug, as if it's a given that he'd want Y/N to mother his child, "You may be my only shot. We all know I have a shitty relationship history, who knows if I'll be able to have another kid."

"Harry, this is insane. We can't stand each other, this would never be a healthy situation."

"Why not?" he presses, and Y/N seriously can't believe he's fighting back on this, "Co-parenting is totally normal. We don't have to be married to have a kid together. I'm ready."

Her eyes widen. "I literally watched you funnel a bag of wine last week, and you're 29 years old."

"I only do that shit because I have no reason not to. If we're having a baby, I'm more than happy to stop partying and focus on becoming a dad."

"Do you— like, do you even know what being a parent requires?" Y/N asks, "You would be committed to dealing with me for at least 18 years. Money, emotional support, being there for everything. Soccer games, school shows, parent-teacher conferences, graduations, doctors appointments..."

"I want kids, Y/N. And if you're my only chance, I'm not gonna say no."

She thinks she might puke on the spot.

"You look like you're gonna pass out. Are you okay?" Harry questions, standing from his spot on the rug and stepping towards her. She puts her hands up, a silent and invisible boundary. He stops.

"Are you... set on having an abortion?" he asks quietly, "It's okay if you are, that's your choice."

She sighs. She hates to admit that she's not. That over the past four days, she's envisioned what it would be like to snuggle her sweet baby, to kiss them and hold them and be a mom to them. That, worst of all, her dating history is just as glum as Harry's and, whether she likes it or not, he may be her only shot at parenthood, too.

"I guess I'm not," Y/N breathes, setting her eyes low to the ground. "I know I only have so much time and... I do get scared that I'll miss my opportunity."

"Yeah," he nods in understanding, "Do you wanna... like, take some time to think then? Maybe reconvene in a couple of days?"

Reluctantly, she agrees. But she already knows that she doesn't need any more time to mull it over — she wants to have this baby with Harry.

#writing #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x oc

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taesanrot · 17 days

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[love these days] eunseok x f!reader | 3.3k best friends to lovers, implied college au, making out, alc consumption, mutual pining, mls are both a lil dumb, cute n fluffy w a lil smut n angst syn. in which you drunkenly attempt to prove to your friends that you have absolutely no feelings towards your best friend (spoiler alert... you fail) note. storyline is based off of the manhwa these days love special! it's a super cute one shot and a comfort read for me so you guys should check it out. ++ thank u so so much for the support on the teaser, i honestly wrote it on a whim but i'm v proud of this fic so i hope u guys like it as welll <3

you winced at how loud your friends were yelling, sipping on your drink in a weak attempt to calm your nerves. you'd foolishly thought that coming out to drink with your friends would lift up your mood after your terrible week.

you were immediately proven wrong, chaewon and anton's loud arguing was making your head hurt and you just wanted to go home and snuggle into your blanket.

staring at the table top, you lost yourself in your own racing thoughts. you were pulled out of your trance as shotaro nudged you. you looked up at him drearily, and he gave you a sad smile, ruffling your hair.

"what's up? you seem downer than usual." you gave him a weak half smile, opening your mouth to answer his question. you were interrupted by a loud outburst from sohee.

"what do you guys think about guys and girls being best friends? do you think they can stay platonic?" the entire table erupted with noise, everyone drunkenly chiming in to answer his question.

"what on earth are you saying sohee? of course they can!"

"don't you know if you like someone the second you meet them? how can you catch feelings after being friends?"

"kissing my guy friends sounds fucking disgusting, yall stay safe."

you stayed silent, knowing better than to respond -- you already answered sohee's question with your own traitorous heart. you glanced at the table next to yours, eyes landing on the reason you were keeping your mouth shut.

your best friend, song eunseok.

who you were, unfortunately, in love with.

you and eunseok had met in during your college orientation, finding that your personalities clicked quite well as you discussed your respective majors and classes. the rest was history, you two bonded fast, and you quickly became one of his closest friends. it didn't help that the two of you lived in the same apartment complex, meaning that you basically ended up walking home together everyday.

it became a routine, even if the two of you had separate plans you'd meet up somewhere and walk back together

if you were being honest to yourself, you'd been attracted to eunseok from the day you'd met him.

sometimes, you'd think back to the early days of your and eunseok's friendship and wondered how you'd manage to not confess right then and there. chasing the high of the closeness of your friendship had satisfied you somehow.

these days, though, you started to think that you were losing your mind. your feelings for eunseok have only grown stronger as time has passed, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain your usual subtlety.

you felt like you were at your wit's end, ready to confess and be over all of this. and a couple days ago, you had been planning to do just that.

[...]

you reread eunseok's text in confusion, hoping you were walking in the right direction.

you had just gotten out of your last class, and eunseok had texted you to meet him and some other friends on the building's rooftop. you walked around a corner, recognize the back of eunseok's head and his terrible posture.

he was sitting at some picnic tables with two underclassman. just as you were about to wave, you hear one of the other boys speak.

"y/n.... as in kim y/n? you two are pretty close huh, eunseok?" you immediately darting back around the corner, hoping they hadn't seen you yet.

you pulse thrummed under your skin. they were talking about you. you felt your breath hitch as you heard eunseok's tired voice.

"cmon, you know it's not like that, sohee" sohee's loud laugh rang through the air.

"you wish it was though, don't you seokie?" a third voice, hong seunghan, chimed in. you cupped a hand over your mouth to suppress your nervous laughter. you heard eunseok shift in his seat before he spoke the words that would ruin your week.

"y/n.... she's nice and i like her. she's not even close to my type, though."

your face twitched and you clenched your hands into fists, nails digging crescents into your palms. you had to get out of here, and get out of there you did.

turning in the direction you'd come from minutes ago, you disappeared down the stairs, bolting to the comfort of your apartment. you shot eunseok a text later and make up an excuse, saying something came up on the way there. he never questioned it, thankfully.

[...]

remembering it made your shoulders sag, and you sighed for what had to be the 30th time that night, taking another swig from your beer.

of course you of all people would get rejected before you even had the chance to confess. you finally tuned back into the conversation. to your dismay, sungchan had begun to gush over his girlfriend of five years.

"it doesn't matter what i think, i'm already locked in for good." everyone rolled their eyes as he turned his phone around to show you guys pictures of his girlfriend, jiwoo, pictures that everyone had already seen a million times.

"isn't she so cute? i miss her, she's so busy these days."

huffing slightly, you felt your eyes waver over to the table next to yours. to certain brown haired boy, more importantly.

normally, eunseok would be drinking with you and your friends, but he was supposed to be getting to know some of the people in his major department better.

one of the students in question was doe-eyed underclassman sullyoon. your stomach turned uncomfortably as you watched her prettily laugh at eunseok's quips, covering her mouth politely and crinkling her eyes ever so slightly. it was impossible for you to look away as she unabashedly flirted with your best friend; the sight was almost nauseating.

jealousy tore through you, an eerie sadness filling you up from bottom to top. she was just his type, you realized, the epiphany making your mood even worse than it already was. today was the worst.

sullyoon's advances and your completely-not-subtle staring didn't go unnoticed by shotaro either.

"guess she's laid her claim on eunseok, huh?" he joked, nudging your side playfully. you dreadfully gulped down the last of your beer.

"how would i know?" you spoke gloomily, and a frown slowly etched itself onto shotaro's face as he put together the pieces in front of him.

his gaze remained on your dull figure for a moment longer before he suddenly sat up and gasped, grabbing your attention.

"guys, we're forgetting about the closest guy and girl here! aren't you best friends with song eunseok, y/n?" your eyes widen as shotaro's words boom through the bar. after a short pause, your friends went into uproar.

"hey, you're right, taro"

"do you like eunseok, y/n?"

"oh my god do you think they've kissed"

the words coming out of shotaro's mouth reached your ears almost in slow motion. your posture stiffened and you coughed roughly in shock, looking over to make eye contact with an unamused eunseok. his table had fallen into silence as well, everyone listening and waiting for what you had to say.

oh god, does he think i told him to say that? he's gonna think i like him. fuck fuck fuck.

alcohol tainted thoughts ran through your head as you panicked, trying to think of ways to shut down the conversation as quick as possible.

"you guys are crazy. me and eunseok could shower together and i still wouldn't catch feelings" seriously? that was the best you could think of?

berating yourself internally, you tried your hardest to fake nonchalance and act like that blatant lie wasn't tearing you in two. you glanced over at your best friend again, his expression unreadable. there was no going back; you really had to get over eunseok now.

tearing your gaze away from him, you downed the rest of your beer and glared at osaki shotaro's back.

[...]

"it's too earlyyyy we can't go home" chaewon half spoke and half shrieked, arm wrapped around sohee's shoulder.

"let's go to karaoke!" seunghan chirped, his suggestion earning cheers. you and eunseok both stepped away from the group, saying quiet goodbyes and excusing yourselves to walk back home. your friends cheered seeing the two of you walk away together, and you wished a hole would open in the ground and swallow you whole.

"god i feel like shit" you groaned, rubbing your forehead drearily. eunseok chuckled at your frazzled state, tugging the sleeve of your jacket and pulling you closer to him.

you held your breath as he playfully tugged the hood of your zip up over your face, laughing at the way you sputtered curses at him. the two of you bantered like this almost all the way until your place. when the two of your finally fell into a peaceful silence, you spoke.

"sullyoon seemed pretty into you." you craned your neck and tilted your gaze to the dark sky, hoping the boy next to you wouldn't be able to notice the sadness in your eyes. eunseok rolled his eyes at your question and coughed.

"did she, now?" playing dumb, he smirked at the way your gaze whipped to his face, staring at him incredulously. he hadn't helped himself to nearly as many drinks as you, a slight buzz coursing through his veins.

"i mean i found it pretty obvious." this time, eunseok laughed loudly. you really couldn't hold yourself back at all when you were wasted. your eyebrows furrowed and a blush ran across your cheeks at his laughter and response.

usually, you were pretty careful with how much you drank around your best friend, not wanting to unintentionally expose the feelings your fought so hard to hide from him.

unfortunately, past you did not anticipate shotaro's quips or the events of the past few days, the frustration leading you to allow yourself more drinks than usual.

the front door of your apartment complex came into view before eunseok could answer you. looking at your flushed face and droopy eyes, he decided it'd be best for him to help you to your place. the two of you rode in the elevator in silence, opening to your floor. you're face contorted in confusion as eunseok stepped out as well, hand coming to rest on your back as he led you to your unit.

"what're you doing?" you slurred at him. the fresh air had done nothing to sober you up, and eunseok rolled his eyes with a smile.

"making sure you actually make it to your bed." he fished your keys out of your pocket for you and opened the door to your small apartment. slightly tripping over your feet, you walked in and kicked off your shoes.

before you could even think of slumping onto the floor or your kitchen, eunseok grabbed your shoulders and led you to your room, laughing as you swatted his hands and sat on your bed.

you groaned as you leaned back and laid on your bed, exhaustion catching up to you. you brought a hand up to shield your eyes from the dizzying ceiling light. feeling the bed dip slightly next to you, you turned your gaze to eunseok. he was sitting right next to your laying figure, hand coming up to rub your shoulder lightly.

"cmon, you gotta actually get ready for bed." eunseok sighed and shook his head, pinching your neck and earning another groan.

after a painfully long amount of time, eunseok had managed to get you off your bed and into the bathroom. he helped your wipe off your leftover makeup and made sure you took out your contacts and brushed your teeth.

routine complete and pajamas adorned, you stood and stared at your awaiting bed, something stopped your from getting in and slipping underneath the covers.

eunseok turned off the lights in your bathroom and the rest of your apartment before returning to your bedroom with a glass of water.

"here, have some water." after seeing your stilled figure still standing next to the head of the bed, his eyebrows furrowed.

"are you okay?" the boy inquired. he reached his hand out to rest on the small of your back, but you turned and sat down on the bed before he had the chance.

"seokie..." you mumbled softly. eunseok felt his cheeks burn at the nickname the rolled off your drunken tongue. you'd only used it a few times -- almost always when you were intoxicated. eunseok never found it in him to tell you he loved it.

"i lied earlier, i'm sorry." you stared at your socked toes and eunseok's brows furrowed in confusion. lied? what is she talking about?

"about what?" you looked up to meet eunseok's eyes. they bored into you, sending a shiver down your spine as your mouth suddenly dried up. clearing your throat slightly, the secret you had been keeping for so long slipped from your lips.

"i can't shower with you." well, not quite. eunseok chuckled lightly at your serious tone.

"what? why does that matter?" he pried further, chuckling at your pout. you didn't find this situation amusing, all of the memories of eunseok rejecting you flowing back into your mind. letting out a tearful sigh, your face fell into your hands with a loud smack.

"i can't because i already have feelings for you!" eunseok's lazy smile dropped immediately, not only at the fact that you just confessed to him, but also because you were now crying into your hands.

"i like you so much, i'm sorry seokie. sohee was right about me." you sniffled and cried even harder into your hands, not realizing eunseok kneeling in front of you. your crying subsided as eunseok's hands wrapped around yours, pulling them away from your teary face.

"you're seriously something else." your best friend smiled at your teary eyes and red nose. even while crying you looked so adorable to him. you opened your mouth to whine at him but he placed a finger over your lips, continuing.

"i can't shower with you either, y/n" your face crumpled even more.

"because i'm not even close to your type! i already know that, you asshole." it was your turn to stare in confusion as eunseok laughed and shook his head.

"no, don't you get it?" a thick silence hung in the air as you racked your brain for any possible explanation.

because he wants to keep things platonic? no, that can't be it. or maybe ...

no.

does he... like me?

eunseok watched the gears turn in your head, seeing your face fill with realization before you spoke.

"do you l-" eunseok didn't give you a chance to finish your question, moving forward and swiftly capturing your lips in his own.

you made a noise of surprise before shutting your eyes, reaching for his shirt to pull him on top of you. eunseok was gentle as ever with you, laying you down on the bed slowly. hovering over you, he let his tongue run across your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth further open so he could taste more of you.

you sighed out in satisfaction as you felt his warm tongue explore your mouth. you don't know how long you'd been waiting for this moment. running your hands along the blades of his shoulders, you pressed them into his back, hugging him close as if he might disappear.

entangling his legs with yours, breathing the same air as you, eunseok wanted to capture this moment and lock it in his memory forever. he decided instead to let you know how he felt through his lips and hands, easing his fingers through your hair and sucking your bottom lip.

as he pulled away and the two of you watched the string of saliva connecting your lips, you wondered how you managed to bottle up your feelings for the boy above you for as long as you did.

twisting the hem of your shirt, eunseok looked into your eyes with a hooded gaze, drunk off of you.

"can i?"

[...]

opening your eyes slowly, you registered your surroundings. you were snuggled in bed, wrapped in your comforter.

as you mind flashed with the memories of the bar last night, you shot up in bed.

"morning." you screamed at the greeting, turning to see eunseok laying next to you in your bed, scrolling through his phone lazily.

"what are you-" you question was interrupted by a loud noise from the boy's stomach.

"ugh, i'm so hungry, lemme go pee and let's get something to eat, yeah?" eunseok fought to hide his laugh as he watched you scratch the back of neck in confusion.

[...]

you stared at eunseok intensely as he ate his burger and fries like a starved man. you and your best friend were seated in nearby diner. you wished you knew what eunseok was thinking; he hadn't brought up the events of the night before and you were starting to think they didn't even happen. not to mention your memory was pretty foggy following eunseok helping you to your room anyways.

you hoped nothing happened past the two of you making out; you'd really want to remember sleeping with eunseok if you did. looking up at eunseok nonchalantly sipping on his coke, your patience ran out.

"we didn't sleep together, right?" eunseok swallowed his drink slowly, letting your question hang in the air for the moment before answering.

"what do you remember?" he inquired and you exhaled shallowly.

"kissing. and you took off my shirt i think." the boy in front of you smiled. he was secretly very happy you remembered the night before. he'd be a little bothered if he was the only one who remembered your first kiss together.

"yeah, you passed out like right after that." he chuckled, watching your face turn bright red. chewing your bottom lip, you turned your focus back to your food. eunseok smiled softly at you. he thought you were too cute for your own good.

[...]

walking back to your apartment, you turned to eunseok.

"you never told me if you liked me." eunseok stopped in his tracks, turning to look at you in disbeilef.

"the making out wasn't enough of an answer for you?" he laughed as you smacked his arm, hoping no one passing by heard eunseok's crass answer.

"song eunseok!" smiling like you were the only person in the world, eunseok grabbed your hand and laced his fingers with yours.

"y/n, i like you too. will you go out with me?" swinging your arms, he pouted at you, waiting for answer.

"ugh, you're so corny." snatching your hand out of his grasp, you jokingly walked away from the boy, giggling.

"hey! you're the one with a crush on me!" he chased after you, laughing as he wrapped his arms around you and locked you in his grasp. turning in his arms to face him, you met his brown eyes and smiled prettily.

"i'd love to go out with you."

[bonus — the day eunseok "rejected" you]

"y/n.... she's nice and i like her. she's not even close to my type, though."

eunseok's words hung in the air as he searched for the right way to express his thoughts. just hearing your name made his cheeks flush pink. balancing his chin in his hand, he continued.

"somehow though, she seems prettier every time i see her." this earned a loud cheer from the two boys.

"eunseok hyung, you really surprised me." seunghan laughed at the eunseok's dopey smile.

"could you guys please keep it a secret for me?"

...

taglist: @shnnzsworld @beomgyusonlywife @pompompush @forrds @yoursyuno @snowyseungs @dreamiestay @taeraeverse

#song eunseok #eunseok #eunseok x reader #eunseok imagines #eunseok smut #eunseok riize #eunseok fluff #eunseok fic #riize #riize fluff #riize angst #riize masterlist #riize imagines #riize x reader #riize smut #riize eunseok

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flashbangstars · 1 month

Text

Searching for Sun, water, and attention

Pairing: Jeno x Female reader wc: 2k +

Summary: You honestly thought you were coping with being a stem major in finals week pretty well... up until you weren't

Genre: low key hurt comfort, idk man rough week, fluff, i call mc a plant

Warnings?: none really, I say sex like once

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Your leaves were wilting, and you were in dire need of water. You weren’t placed in a spot where you get enough sun, and they didn’t tend to your leaves, You felt as if you hadn’t had a proper day of self-care in weeks. Which was true.

But you were also not a plant, you were an engineering major in your second semester of senior year struggling to make it through. You hadn’t eaten since the couple slices of apple you snuck this morning from your roommate’s breakfast plate (dire need of water), you hadn’t changed out of the pajamas you had been wearing for two days not (leaves were wilting), and you had been sitting in the dark of your room with only your computer screen illuminating the space (you weren’t getting enough sun)

You had taken on a giant project and had yet to see the end of it. You had been dealing with group members who had checked out and didn’t care anymore, and professors who were doing the same thing. Hence this little room has become your evil lair for the past couple of weeks, Everything was online so you did not need to leave, and why would you leave if you could get things delivered?

It was about 1 in the afternoon and thanks to your blackout curtains your room was pitch black. Hearing the door open you knew it meant Jeno was home. Jeno was your roommate, you two had met online on the student group chat and the rest is history.

He did think you were a dude at first, but hey it’s 2024 who cares?

You hear a soft knock on the door and a pause after two knocks.

“Hi,” You hear Jeno say from the other side of the door.

“Come in”

The door opened and Jeno walked into your room and beelined to the windows, quickly opening the blinds and letting in the afternoon sun.

Hissssss

“Did you just fucking hiss at me?” His head swiveled and his eyes were big.

“Gut reaction, my bad” You raised your hand in surrender.

Jeno was no stranger to this, with your major this was the territory every finals season. You would become a recluse and lock yourself in your room to work on things. He felt bad because he knew it took a toll on you, but you never said anything when things got hard. One afternoon a year ago your friends on their way out had thanked him for “taking care of you” He hadn’t done much but he was glad to know he was of some help in your life.

“OK get up, you’ve been in here since I left. You need fresh air” He knew you probably hadn’t gotten up in his absence to even move around the apartment either”

“You were gone for like an hour, that’s nothing!!!” You said laughing at your roommate’s accusation.

Jeno paused and turned around with an unamused face to stare at you

“Y/n I was gone for 4 hours” the monotone voice matching the vibe his face was giving.

Pause

“You were gone four hours? When did you leave?” You questioned.

“I left at 7:45 this morning, and it is currently noon” He deadpanned.

“Oh,” you remarked.

“Yeah OH, now get up we are going for a walk” He grabbed your hands and began to pull you out of the chair. Blankets falling to the ground and exposing the pajamas you hadn’t taken off since you woke up.

“Put on different clothes” he muttered as he walked out of your room.

Glancing down at the Hello Kitty pajamas pants you were a little offended as to why he thought you couldn’t wear these out in public, but you still fulfilled his wishes and changed into leggings and a clean sweatshirt. Probably looking the most put-together you have in a couple of months.

You both walked down the street your apartment was on in a comfortable silence, watching your reflection in the windows of the stores you passed. Jeno was always someone people looked at, he had all these pretty angles and pretty features. It was hard not to like him, you two in comparison were very different and It was hard to not crave the structure Jeno had created for himself. He was smart, he didn’t have to struggle to get ahead, he just was a good student. He also was very attractive which helped.

You knew a lot about him from living together for as long as you did and you still didn’t know whether you wanted to be with him or be him.

“Wkgrbnorgnognwg?” A voice broke you from your thoughts.

“Huh?” You asked turning your head to face Jeno, his brows up showing he had just asked you a question.

“I said do you want to sit down? The park is across the street” he repeated pointing to the benches lining the walking path across the street.

“Oh yeah! Do you want to grab coffee first?” You suggested.

“I’m not sure you need more caffeine in your system actually, it really can’t be healthy how much you consume” Jeno warned, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. He was also incredibly easy to read.

“It’s fine, I think I go through withdrawals now if I don’t consume a dangerous amount” you joked, Jeno not finding it amusing though.

“I’m seriously ok I promise, the caffeine is just a necessary evil in college,” you said again trying to reassure him you weren’t macro-dosing caffeine every day and ruining your health, and probably stomach lining.

“Coffee is fine, but you are getting decaf” Jeno laid down the law and then pulled you by the wrist into the coffee shop.

Jeno ordered for the both of you and got you a decaf vanilla latte and himself an iced americano, and he PAID! The sugar baby era commenced.

Getting your drinks and then walking to the park bench you both sat down and stared out into the park. It was the same old comfortable silence you were familiar with Jeno, you two were the type of people who could sit with each other in silence and be content.

“Not to be a dick, but why do you do that to yourself,” Jeno asked breaking the silence. From your peripheral, you could tell he was still looking forward. Confusion partially took over at the turn in conversation and you didn’t respond, unsure of what he wanted you to say

“You don’t take care of yourself I understand school is important believe me, but watching you push yourself to the extent you do it sucks to see”

Your confusion only got worse as Jeno began to voice his concerns about you, you didn’t even know he noticed things like that.

“And I wish you would let me help you, I live with you for fucks sake. Ask me for help” He finished by turning to face you, your face still staring straight ahead, afraid to turn to meet his gaze.

Part of you thought you had been handling things alright, and part of you knew he was right. You kept to yourself when you were struggling because putting in on others felt selfish. You barely left your room at this point, and you hadn’t done anything other than school for the past two weeks.

“It’s just something I need to deal with, I’m almost done with this project and I will get a break. I’m. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” You said not sure how to make things better.

Jeno sighed and rubbed his face turning his body so now he was facing you. “God I’m not asking for an apology, I’m saying this because I care about you. I care about you a concerning amount and I hate watching you go through this and I can’t help” He admitted

“Why do you care a ‘concerning amount’? I promise you I will be fine I don’t know what else I can tell you” your tone coming off defensive, now turning to face him. Your confusion now mixed in a twinge of frustration as to why Jeno was being so cryptic in his concerns.

“Y/n I care because I like you. It is hard not to worry about the person you like, especially when you live with them. I get this urge to fucking tell you to go to bed on time, take you into my room away from your screens tuck you in with me, and make sure you sleep” Jeno had now begun rambling, his voice laced with the tiniest hint of anxiety

“I want to bring you out of the apartment with me and go on walks and run errands where we hold hands and talk about life and I know I don’t have to worry about you not moving from the same spot for more than 4 hours, I want to start and end the day with you” He kept going.

With every confession he was making you felt the confusion melt into a weird guilt, guilty you had made him feel like he couldn’t do anything, guilty you had made him feel helpless. You also felt this blur of emotions you couldn’t decipher with the sudden burst of someone pouring out how they liked you.

You reached your hand out and wrapped it around his wrist effectively stopping his diatribe. His eyes immediately caught yours searching for some sort of answer, a reaction to what he had said. Fear, anticipation, and a secret third emotion swirl around in his irises.

“Then do that” your voice came out stronger than you had planned.

“Take care of me,” you asked

Jeno’s eyes widened and his features began to soften.

“I want to be that person for you too ” you finally admitted, your eyes breaking the staring contest you had been holding for the past couple of minutes.

A couple of moments passed and neither of you moved. Hearing movement across from you, and then feeling arms grabbing you, Jeno pulled you into his chest and hugged you, his cheek pressing against your forehead and arms fully wrapped around you.

“Ok” you heard from above you, and then a soft kiss was placed on your forehead.

“Let’s go home”

Waking up you blinked away the sleep and felt the sun coming into the room from the windows. Sitting up and pushing aside the blankets, you grabbed a sweatshirt from the dresser as you got up and pulled it on leaving the room.

Jeno’s shirtless back faced you in the kitchen as he stood in front of the stove cooking something.

Coming up beside him and rubbing your hand up his back feeling the notches in his spine.

“Good morning,” you said resting your head against his shoulder.

“Good morning sweetheart” Jeno turned grasped your check and pulled you into a soft kiss his thumb caressing the top of your cheek. He tasted like toothpaste and his lips were covered in a thin layer of chapstick. You knew you probably tasted like morning breath and had dry lips but Jeno didn’t mind.

Pulling away he stared at your face with a smile. And patted your butt covered with his sweatshirt.

“I made you coffee” Jeno Pointed to the pink mug sitting on the counter with a banana sitting next to it. “Decaf because I know you don’t have any classes today,” he said turning the burner off.

“Thank you,” you said kissing his shoulder blade with the warm coffee cup now in your hands.

You both sat in a comfortable silence as you ate breakfast beside each other at the counter, Jeno’s hand periodically finding itself resting atop your thigh. You valued the moments of comfortable silence especially when they were spent with him.

You were now a healthy plant, your leaves were strong and you were regularly taken care of, you knew what you needed to grow, and you had the help of a very cute gardener (boyfriend) who made sure you got enough sun (literal sun), water (literal water), and care (love and good sex).

i actually struggled to write this one because of how bootycheek this last week and a half has been for me. so it lowkey reflected in my writing. lemme get to spring break and I promise i will be more positive

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