#red is like absolutely fucking not and makes green sleep on the couch that night

[lily-orchard]

Scars - Refuge

July 6th, 1985

The sound of heavy knocking on the door woke Assana first. Not that it had any chance of waking Valerie. Her mother was such a heavy sleeper she could have slept through the blitz. “Alright alright, I’m coming,” she said as she stumbled down the stairs toward the increasingly erratic knocking.

An exasperated groan escaped Assana as she neared the door. Whoever it was, banging at this time of night, she was prepared to curse them out. It could be the president, for all she cared. She’d still curse him out.

The welling exasperation died the moment she saw Saige on the other side of the door. Trembling and sobbing, mascara running down his cheeks.

“Saige?” she asked, taking a step toward him. “What’s wrong?”

Saige sniffled and took her approach as the green light to collapse into her arms and bury his face into her shoulder. “D-D-Dad… he f-f-found out…”

Assana’s heart lurched in her chest. Oh. Oh fuck. His dad found out? “Oh, Saige,” she said softly, closing the door with her foot and guiding him into the living room. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s my fault…” Saige whimpered as Assana guided him to the couch. “I forgot to change before I went home. Forgot to tie up my hair. Take off my makeup…”

“No! No it’s not your fault,” Assana said as a light clicked on upstairs. She rubbed his back in small circles as he cried. “Your dad is an asshole. He’s the one who made you afraid to be who you are. That’s his fault. Not yours.”

Saige whimpered pitifully into Assana’s shirt as the sound of footsteps alerted them both to the fact that Valerie was awake. Assana looked up just in time to see her mother descend the stairs and look at the both of them.

“...Why is Saige here at this hour?” she mumbled.

“He got kicked out,” Assana said apologetically.

Valerie was quiet for a moment before shuffling toward the kitchen. “I’ll make tea…”

Saige lifted his head from Assana’s chest and whimpered. “I’m sorry, Ms. Kipling.” 

“Hmm…” Valerie mumbled, disappearing into the kitchen.

Assana squeezed Saige tighter, leaning back against the couch and pulling him with her. “It’ll be alright,” she said. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Saige trembled, grabbing fistfuls of Assana’s shirt. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” he said.

“Well, you’re going to stay here for as long as you need to for starters,” Assana said firmly, her voice offering no room for argument. “And then we’re going to see if anything can be done about your asshole dad.” 

Valerie came back out of the kitchen holding a small tray of tea. She set it down on the table and took a small cup, sitting down in her chair. “Alright. What happened?”

Saige sat up and wiped his eyes. “My Dad found out about me.”

“Found what out?”

“That I… I dress like a girl…”

“Ah,” Valerie nodded. “And?”

“Well he… he lost it,” Saige whimpered. “He had a fit, screamed at me, called me all kinds of nasty names and… told me to get out…”

Valerie nodded, taking a sip of her tea. “Alright,” she said matter-of-factly. “You can sleep in Assana’s room.”

Saige blinked, red and puffy eyes wide with surprise. “R-Really?”

“It is not as though we have a spare room,” Valerie said with a shrug. “You two will just have to learn how to share the space.” 

Saige’s eyes were practically sparkling despite his tears. “...Thank you, Ms Kipling.”

Valerie shrugged and gestured for the stairs. “Off to bed. The both of you.”

“Thanks mom!” Assana said brightly, drinking the rest of her tea in a single gulp and pulling Saige to his feet.

Valerie nodded as continued sipping her tea.

Once they were safely in Assana’s room, she brought Saige to the bed and sat down. She held him close and continued rubbing his back. “See? What did I tell you? Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Y-Yeah, I guess,” Saige said, a laugh and sob escaping him at the same time. His grip on Assana remained absolute, not wanting to let go of her for anything. “You… you really don’t mind me staying here?”

“Of course!” Assana exclaimed. “You think I’m going to let you spend the night out on the street? Hell no!” 

“I know. I know,” Saige said as he was rubbing his eyes. “I just… I don’t want to be a burden, you know.”

Assana pulled back and gently cupped Saige’s cheeks. “Hey. You are never a burden. Do you remember the first time you came here as yourself?”

Saige smiled, the memory of that day fluttering to the forefront of his mind. The dress Assana picked out for him. The makeup. The way it all nearly ran down his cheeks when he looked in the mirror. “How could I forget?” 

“You remember how I told you this house was always going to be a safe place for you?” Assana asked.

Saige nodded.

“Well I meant it,” Assana said, pressing a kiss to Saige’s cheek.

Saige smiled and sniffled, wiping at his eyes again. “T-Thank you, Asy,” he whispered. 

“You’re always going to be welcome here, Saige,” Assana whispered.

Saige woke up the next morning to the sound of adults talking downstairs. He was then immediately aware of the pair of arms wrapped around his waist, squeezing him tightly. It was then the memories of last night came rushing back to him. Getting kicked out. Showing up at Assana’s. Being allowed to stay. Being cuddled to sleep in Assana’s bed.

Still being cuddled by a sleeping Assana.

Butterflies fluttered in his chest as he leaned into the embrace. It was still fairly early in the morning. He was going to take that time and enjoy being close to his friend. Carefully, he draped an arm over Assana’s side, returning the hug. This utterly wonderful girl who meant the world to him. 

Assana eventually stirred and squeezed Saige tighter. “Mornin’,” she mumbled.

“Morning,” Saige said warmly, resting his forehead against Asy’s. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Good,” Assana yawned. “How ‘bout you?”

“Heavily,” Saige said. “Kinda surprised. I was so scared most of the night. Not used to a good night’s sleep with anxiety.”

Assana smiled and snuggled close. “I told you. Safe here.”

“You did say that,” Saige said with a chuckle, squeezing Assana tightly. “You’re perfect, you know that?” 

“I know,” Assana said confidently, smiling into the night shirt Saige was wearing. 

It was then that the voices downstairs grew louder and finally drew Saige’s attention.

“Is that my father?” he asked, lifting his head.

Assana frowned, her grip on Saige tightening. “Certainly sounds like him,” she grumbled. “Don’t worry. He won’t get you. I won’t let him.”

“I want to know why he’s here,” Saige said, pulling away from Assana and getting out of bed. He straightened his nightgown and approached the door, pressing his ear to it.

“...can’t have him runnin’ around like that. What if people saw him?”

“Your concerns are overblown, Mr Kinnd.”

“I beg to differ!” Mr Kinnd said. “You watch the news, Val. How many boys like him end up getting their asses kicked every night? He doesn’t shape up soon, he’s gonna end up in a wheelchair.”

“You’re acting as if the violence is some kind of act of nature that’s pointless to question,” Valerie said. “As if him being assaulted makes it his fault.”

“It is if he’s going around making guys think he’s a girl,” Mr Kinnd said. “What’s gonna happen when they make a move and then see his penis? You think they ain’t gonna be mad?”

Saige huffed, teeth clenching hard. Fucking hell even listening to someone try and talk to his dad felt like talking to a brick wall. 

“You know, Mr Kinnd, I had many of the same fears about my daughter,” Valerie said. “What happens if she crosses the wrong person, ruffles the feathers of a particularly delicate man. She could end up assaulted. Or worse.”

“So you get that this is a problem?”

“No, what I’m saying is I’m a firm believer in the Second Amendment.”

Saige’s eyes widened, a laugh bubbling up his throat before he clamped a hand over his mouth. Oh. Oh that was good! He kept his ear pressed to the door. Try as he might, he couldn’t hear his dad say anything. Had Ms. Kipling actually left him speechless!?

“You can’t be serious…”

“I come from a different time. I know what a particular breed of men are capable of. But I wouldn’t dare blame my daughter for the way they behave around her,” Valerie said.

“I mean, it’s a different story if she provokes them,” Mr. Kinnd argued. “Guys don’t like a tease.” 

“I know they don’t. That’s why I taught her to aim for the thigh,” Valerie remarked.

Siage blinks. Ms Kipling taught Asy to shoot? Where was he when this was happening?

“Heaven’s sake, woman! Do you want your kid to end up in the slammer?” Mr Kinnd asked, aghast.

Downstairs, Valerie looked up from her teacup. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. You seem convinced that the both of them are going to be under the threat of assault at all times.”

“If they don’t get their heads on straight and start acting like normal people,” Mr Kinnd said. “I’ve heard the records those two listen to. It’s all teenage hormone, rebel without a cause, shit. Stuff you’re supposed to grow out of. And it’s high time they grow out of it.”

“Cassette.”

“What?”

“Cassettes, not records,” Valerie said. “Amusing little things, much more compact.”

“...Well, they sound worse to me,” Mr Kinnd said with a huff. “Point is, they’re listening to a bunch of high school dropouts who got lucky about how to live life.” 

Valerie sighed and set her cup down. “Mr Kinnd, all of your ‘concerns’ sound like excuses. You’re concerned about violence, yet you act as if the only way to avoid it is to capitulate to the violent. It sounds less like you care about your son being assaulted, and more like you’re using it as a threat.”

Mr. Kinnd scowled. “Now you listen here,” he said. “I’m just looking out for the kid. I know the world I grew up in wasn’t good to guys who acted like him. If you saw a bunch of kids drown in a river when you were growing up, wouldn’t you tell your kid to not walk into the river?” 

Valerie sighed and sat up in her chair. “I was born in Austria just before the Germans came,” she said coldly. “I’ve seen far worse than a few kids drowning in a river.”

Kinnd’s eyes widened, utterly blindsided by Valerie’s retort. For a long stretch of time, neither of them said anything. The only sound in the room was the faint ticking of the grandfather clock. “...Listen, I-'' he began, pausing briefly. “I ain’t meaning to dig at old wounds or nothing.” 

“It would mean nothing if Saige pretended to be anything less than who he is,” Valerie said. “Whether he is himself in public or behind closed doors, they’re going to try to kill him either way.”

“Well… then we just fix him,” Kinnd argued, though his words had far less conviction than they had a minute ago. “Get him to stop all this shit.” 

“Not in my house,” Valerie said. Despite her soft-spoken tone, her words carried an air of finality. “Saige is free to stay here if you can’t bear to see your son as he is.”

“But this isn’t who he is!” Kinnd argued. “If it was, God would have made him a girl!”

“Do you believe God makes mistakes, Mr Kinnd?”

“No. Of course not!” Kinnd said. “Everyone comes out the way they’re supposed to be, yeah? That’s in the Bible.” 

“Then there’s nothing wrong with your son,” Valerie said matter of factly.

Another false start, utterly blindsided by Valerie’s logic. “Wha-? This whole dress up game isn’t how God made him! It’s what he’s doing on his own cuz he’s an idiot!” 

“Well he could be how God made him, however underage nudism is frowned upon in most societies,” Valerie said.

“Okay now you’re just twisting words around to be pedantic!” Kinnd huffed. “That’s another thing that can get a boy’s ass kicked. No one likes a smart mouth.” 

“Well regardless, Saige is going to be just fine,” Valerie said.

“Like hell he is!” Kinnd argued. “I need to set this all straight before he gets himself killed.” 

“No,” Valerie said. “The two of them are still asleep, you’re not going to disturb them.”

“Well I’m afraid I’m not leaving until they wake up then,” Kinnd said, folding his arms.

“No, you’ll be leaving now,” Valerie said. “I let you say your piece, but the reality is you kicked him out of your house, and now he will speak to you when he is good and ready.”

Upstairs, Saige eyes began to sting. Tears threatened to spill over his cheeks. His chest ached. That… that was the first time an adult came to his defense like that. Ever. He kept the hand over his mouth, trying desperately not to cry too loud. 

“And what if I say I’m not going anywhere until I see my son?” Kinnd said, standing up.

Saige’s emotional turmoil was doused in ice water. ‘Oh no,’ he thought. This was exactly what he was afraid of.

A strong pair of hands gently grabbed his shoulders, kneading the tension from them. “Hey, it’s okay,” Assana whispered. “Mom won’t let him get you.”

“That’s not what I’m afraid of,” Saige said.

“Mr Kinnd, if you’re trying to intimidate me, I’ve seen far more horrific things in my life than one angry American,” Valerie said. 

“I’m also a father whose bringing his son back home and setting him straight,” Kinnd said. “You don’t have any right getting in the way of that!”

“Your son is sixteen. He can do as he pleases,” Valerie said, getting up from her chair. “It’s time for you to go.”

“Well, I don’t feel like leaving without him,” Kind said with a huff, placing his hands in his pockets. “What? You gonna call the cops and tell them I’m trying to bring my son home?”

Neither of them heard what Valerie said next, but it clearly had an effect because the next thing they heard was a door slamming shut. The two of them crept closer to the stairs and peered down into the living room to see Valerie locking the door.

“...Mom?” Asana asked.

“Have fun eavesdropping?” Valerie said without turning around.

Saige winced. “S-Sorry, ma’am. I just… I heard my dad shouting and… I didn’t want to come downstairs until I knew he was gone.” 

“I wasn’t chastising you,” Valerie clarified. “Assana put some coffee on. I’ll make breakfast.” 

Assana nodded and the three of them moved to the kitchen. She ran the coffee maker while Valerie pulled out a pan. 

“I forget, do you like eggs, Saige?” Valerie asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Saige nodded. “Um… sunny side up if that’s okay.” 

“Good to know,” Valerie said, cracking two eggs open and pouring the yolks onto the pan in one fluid motion.

Assana stepped away from the coffee maker and sat down at the table with Saige, taking his hand and squeezing it. “You gonna be okay?” she asked softly.

Saige took a deep breath, squeezing Assana’s hand right back, and nodded. “I think so,” he said. “I mean, with you by my side, what could go wrong?” 

Assana smiled. “That’s the spirit.”

The three of them sat down to a breakfast of eggs, beef sausages and toast. It was relatively quiet, until Valerie broke the tension.

“Alright Saige. You’re sixteen, which means where you go and what you do is your decision,” she said. “What do want to do?”

Saige’s lips pressed into a thin line as he contemplated that question. “Well… I guess I do have options,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe try one of the shelters. Call one of my aunts from out of state and try my luck with them, or…”

“You could just stay here,” Assana said, placing a hand on Saige’s shoulder.

Saige looked up at her. “Oh… oh I couldn’t impose like that…”

“It wouldn’t be an imposition at all!” Assana said, looking at her mother. “Right mom?”

“As long as you don’t mind sharing a room with Assana,” Valerie shrugged. “Though I’m surprised your mother has remained very tight lipped on all of this.”

“My dad’s a pushy sort,” Saige explained. “She tends to get shouted down a lot.”

“Is he abusive?”

“...Not… quite?” Saige said, wiggling his hand. “He’s kinda like the halfway point between abusive and not abusive.”

Assana frowned. “It really doesn’t feel like abuse has a gray area, Saige.”

“I’m not saying it’s a gray area,” Saige said, frowning. “I’m just saying… he hasn’t done anything that made Mom think it’s anything other than tough love.” 

Valerie nodded. “The sad reality is that many parents are permitted to do things to their children that would be sociopathic if they were done to anyone else. She did call last night. I told her you were safe. So she’s not entirely complacent.”

“That’s good to hear,” Saige said with a smile. “But I’m gonna need more than that before I feel safe going back. In the meantime, I could certainly get a job to stay here.” 

“No,” Valerie said. “I can support my own family just fine, and I won’t have children working in this house. You can stay here, Saige. No conditions, except having to bunk with Assana. This house doesn’t have many bedrooms.”

Saige’s eyes started to sting, the threat of tears causing his lashes to flutter. “Um… yes, of course, ma’am. Thank you,” he said, his voice slightly raspy with emotion. 

Assana leaned toward him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Hey… you didn’t really think we’d just leave you to the wolves, did you?”

Saige winced. “Well… not per se,” he said, sounding meek. “Just that… well, dad always said nothing worth anything comes for free. I guess he thought that meant home too.” 

“I’ve always believed housing should be free,” Valerie said. “There’s nothing gained from making people terrified of homelessness. Sounds like your father’s swallowed our new president’s nonsense.”

Saige snorted. “Yeah. For real. Who looks at a guy in a movie, knowing they’re just some putz reading from a script, and decides ‘Ah! Now that should be the guy running this country’?”

Valerie chuckled. “Let me tell you something about the average voter, Saige. They’re not too bright.”

“Cleary,” Saige said with a sigh. “Pretty soon they’re gonna back that ugly con artist from New York as president if we’re not careful.”

“Oh, god! Don’t even joke about that!” Assana gagged. “I’m eating over here!” 

Saige giggled wickedly. “Oh c’mon. That’ll never happen.”

“Be careful what you assert is impossible,” Valerie said. “Fate is a cruel woman with a sick and twisted sense of humor.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” Saige said with a smile. A small, uncertain smile, but an honest one. With conversation this casual and free flowing, it was easier to feel as if nothing was wrong. As though he was with actual family right now. Maybe he really was. “So… I know me and Asy have to share a room. And that’s no problem. But… there are some things I left at home that I’m probably not getting back.”

“Like what?” Valerie asked.

Well, all my cosmetics, my hair care products…” Saige trailed off, warmth flushing his face. “My, um… my stuffed wolf.”

Assana gasped, her eyes lighting up. “You still have Mr. Gregory!?” 

Saige nodded. “Yeah. He’s still on my bed.”

“Your things can be collected,” Valerie said. “I’ll give the HDA a call and they’ll be more than willing to help you.”

“Really?” Sage asked. “I mean, I don’t want to impose more than I-

“I will not hear any more self deprecation on your part, Saige,” Valerie interjected. “I will decide when you have overstepped or imposed. Understood?”

Saige squeaked. “Um… yes, ma’am.” 

“Good boy,” Valerie said. “You’re part of this family now, and that means you don’t earn your keep.”

Saige had to look away when her eyes stung once again. “...Yes ma’am,” she said.

#scars #writing

[myshredda]

It's Red hours. He's a big guy but do you ever think he secretly wants to have his head cradled in someone's lap? He deserves to be held too

Oh Red is absolutely the biggest, clingiest, touch-starved baby of all time. His favorite pastime is getting his yarn all fucked up so he had an excuse for Duck to touch his head. When he and Duck finally stop dragging their feet and yearning and making goo-goo eyes at each other over dinner he's like suction cupped to Duck.

His head in Ducks lap while they watch TV on the couch, green fingers carding through yarn, thumb gently tracing the warm curve of his cheek, the edge of his teeth, down his neck to massage his shoulder, Red's just melted into a puddle at this point. Him and duck snuggling in bed, Duck trying his absolute best to be the big spoon, eventually he just crawls on top of Red and drapes himself over his chest and falls asleep. Red has the deepest sleep he's ever had in his entire life. Red and Duck holding hands at breakfast, Red and Duck sitting thigh to thigh on the couch, Red and Duck curled into each other during a movie, Duck taking Red's entire bodyweight on his shoulder and never once complaining about it. Red laying in bed during a clump sleepover night covered in the bodies of the people he loves the most in the world, finally, fully happy.

#HE'S A SNUGGLER YOUR HONOR #yellow x2 au #my askbox #anonymous

[cinnamontoads]

it was a hatred

#i was gonna have a red panel but i literally could not muster the strength #if i do add on ill add it to this post tbh #red is like absolutely fucking not and makes green sleep on the couch that night #silly little doodle that took me a billion years to draw because im trying to break out of art block rn so drawing takes me twice as long #sobs #very very messy i apologize but art is art idc #pokemon #reguri #originalshipping #namelessshipping #pokemon red #pokemon green #trainer red #rival green #rival blue #pikachu #pokemon fanart #my art #sketches

[ch4nb4ng]

Evil Roommate

pairing: leeknow x afab!reader, roommates enemies to lovers

warnings: softdom!lino, cheating (mentioned), making out, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering penetration, cum play (?), praise

requested : yes!

word count 6.2k

summary: the new roommate was a handful. lazy, disrespectful, arrogant, and a whole bunch of other negative things. but wow, you were sexually frustrated and he, well, attractive, was an understatement.

“Can you actually like, wash your kitchen utensils when you're done using them?”

The amount of huffing and puffing you have heard from your new roommate in the past two weeks was ridiculous. If you had a dollar for every time he had gone against anything you had politely asked for, you would be rich by now, and definitely stable enough to move out and away from him.

“I will,” he mumbled, mouth stuffed with half of the carrot he was chewing on, very loudly, “can I not enjoy my food first?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation, giving the fakest of smiles in return, “you should do it before you eat.”

Another eye roll from Minho was like water off a duck’s back.

“I'd also appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me with your mouth full of food either.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You coughed, turning on your hills to face a very unimpressed roommate. His stare was eye shattering. Yes, he was very, no, extremely good looking. However, every single thing that made up his personality could not be more different to you. Sloppy, messy, lazy. Took no responsibility for any of his actions, especially the high pitch noises (that obviously were not his) you would hear from his room in the early hours of the morning. You would pinch your pillow together, praying extremely hard that the noise would stop, and by the time it did, you would get maybe 2, 3 hours of sleep. College was becoming tiring, not only from staying up to complete assessments, but the lewd noises you could hear from at least 2 people in his room. Your blunt attitude towards Minho’s unhygienic and disrespectful habits were definitely justified.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why do you nitpick everything I do?”

Your jaw dropped, completely dumbfounded.

“Me? Nitpicking you? Please,” you scoffed, “you don't clean up after yourself ever, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere, and don't even get me started on the fact that I barely get any sleep because of your wild sex adventures with other people that occur almost every weeknight, when you know I have to wake up early to go to class next day.”

A combination of frustration and exhaustion could be heard through the harshness of each breath. The smirk that appeared on his face was absolutely punch worthy. What on earth was there to be so cocky of?

“My wild sex adventures,” he paused taking a bite of the dreaded carrot, “please, tell me more about my wild sex adventures.”

His tongue was now obviously pressed against his cheek, a devil coated smile still very apparent on his face. The longer he was looking at you like that, the hotter your cheeks became. Pure anger began to course through you; all he had to do was sit there and look pretty. It was definitely enough for you to get the green light to slap him across the face.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, “I don’t need to explain how I can hear them moaning your name every night, or the banging I hear from wall to-”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “you seem to be listening very well.”

Distracted by your anger for a brief moment, you gasped suddenly, feeling Minho’s fingertips at your sides. You turned around, swatting his hands away, giving him that slap that you felt you had earned across the face.

“Who the fuck said you could touch me?

“Did you just fucking slap me?”

“Yes I fucking did,” you spat, “what do you take me for?”

“You know what you’re right, but you walk around here with a stick up your ass. I hear you on the phone to your friends, complaining about how you don't get any action from anyone.”

You stood there in disbelief. “So you’ve been eavesdropping on my convos as well?”

“Well it’s kind of hard not to hear, you know, the walls in this house are kind of thin.”

Your jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, the conversation was at a stand still.

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I sure can sweetheart,” the name sending a shiver down your spine, “if you're that sexually frustrated, go and do something about it instead of taking it out on me?”

A laugh that you didn't even know you were capable of bellowed from your chest. You stumbled back, grabbing onto stool behind the bench for support.

“Me? Sexually frustrated? Please,” you huffed, “I’m not sexually frustrated, and it definitely has nothing to do with you.”

Another scoff escaped your lips as you shuffled back to your room. Closing the door behind you, a heavy sigh came from your chest as you sat on the edge of your bed. How on earth was he able to read you like that? So well and so accurate? It was all you could think about, not to mention the fact that it was also night time simultaneously.

You let your body fall onto your bed sheets. The feeling of restlessness was consuming your body. As you crawled into bed, you looked straight into the ceiling. Why were you thinking about his words so much? Were you really taking it out on him? You shook your head, mentally slapping yourself for even considering the thought.

Minho was a lazy slob who was extremely inconsiderate of others, especially you. But why was the thought of his fingers on your sides becoming the main source of agitation.? The silence of your thoughts was deafening, but they were easily interrupted as soon as you heard the door open, a high pitched voice followed what felt like the most ludicrous creek you had ever heard. ‘I should really put some oil on the door huh?’ You paused for a couple of seconds, this time physically face palming yourself for the dumb excuse you had made to see who he had decided to bring over to accompany him tonight. Legs completely ignoring your brain, you were out of bed, hand twisting the knob and peeking a look at the poor girl that would be subjected to Minho’s torture tonight. Tip toeing out of the doorway, you kept the weight of a feather on your toes, making yourself as invisible as possible.

“Y/n?”

Your pink panther stance of attempted deception looked utterly ridiculous and not sly at all was extremely confusing to the two. You quickly relaxed into a normal stance, the fakest of smiles coming across your face as you see who it is he brought home to have his way with.

“Chaeyeon… heyyy,” you lingered, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

You would have been happy with literally anyone else. But Chaeyeon? Chaeyeon? It’s like she was your number one arch rival. Minho knew how much you hated her, yet he still let her come over. Everything about her you could not stand, not to mention the fact that she home wrecked your last serious relationship. Even though it was a while ago, you can forgive but not forget, her face being a constant reminder of your hurtful past.

“Oh hey Y/N,” she almost signed, her amount of excitement to see you matching yours, “I didn’t know you lived here.”

The arm he had around her waist made you sick.

“There’s a lot of things you don't know about me,” you mumbled, foot swaying back and forth, eyes focused on said foot.

“Okay, so you guys have had a little reunion,” Minho interrupted. Anything would have been better to break the awkward silence than his sarcastic comments, “we’re gonna go to my room now.”

“NO!” you interjected, covering the hallway with every bit of your being, “I mean, what’s the rush huh? Changbin is coming over as well.”

You paused, Minho’s face clearly cussing you out if yelling was inappropriate at this current moment.

“Uh no thanks Y/N-”

“We should all hang out!”

The excitement coming from your voice was so inauthentic, it was hard to miss.

“Yeah! Let’s all hang out,” you walked behind them, placing a hand on each of their backs and you hurried them to the couch, “I’ll get some beers in the fridge.”

“I actually only drink vodka,” Chaeyeon yawns, obnoxiously twirling her hair, her other hand aggravatingly high on his thigh.

“Oh that’s totally fine,” you gritted through tightly clenched teeth, “we have a bottle in the fridge, I’ll grab that for you as well.”

You scuffled back over to the fridge, mentally cursing yourself as you grabbed the necessary beverages. The confusion you were giving yourself about why you were putting in so much effort to spend time with the two people you literally hated more than anything was mind baffling

“So,” you began again, passing a Corona to Minho, a glass to Chaeyeon, “how have you been finding your course so far?”

You sat the Smirnoff and Orange juice on the table. Yes, you were being nice, but not nice enough to pour the drink for this bitch.

“Oh it was so great,” she smiled, “Jisung and I were living together, it was, well, a dream really.”

The feeling of your nails became prominent in your fists as your fingers caved in. The mention of his name was enough to make you see red, let alone the idea of them being happily together. The itch of your eye begging to roll was becoming too prominent, so much that you had to get up and walk away for a second. You stood up abruptly, confusion etched into Minho’s features. You didn’t want to make this a big deal, but the fact that she continued to gloat about it, long after you stopped listening was enough to reach your breaking point.

“I think I heard my phone ringing from my room, it must be Changbin.”

“I don't think I hear anything,” Minho smirked, plastering his lips on the edge of the bottle. The way his lips wrapped around the tip of the warm glass was something you ‘accidentally’ became fixated on. You puffed your cheeks, storming to your room and somewhat aggressively shutting the door behind you. Scrambling for your phone on the bedside table, you panicked, unclear mind as you scrolled through your phone contacts. You paused, an inducing amount of oxygen filling up your lungs. It did little to calm the irritated tingling sensation in your fingers.

Changbin’s name had finally popped up on your phone after what had felt like a lifetime.

“Hello?”

His voice was husky, guilt panging your chest as you realsied you had probably woken him up from his not very often deep slumber.

“Changbin,” you gasped, “you know how much I love you right?”

“What do you need me to do?”

You snickered at his words. He had been your friend for too long to know that those words would never be said unless you needed something.

“Can you come over,” you pleaded, “Chaeyeon is here with Minho because he invited her over late at night, and I told them you were coming over?”

“Jesus Y/n,” Changbin sighed, a playful chuckle tickling your cheek, “so you want me to come over and make Minho jealous?”

“Wait no wtf,” you jumbled, “make Minho jealous? I just want you to flirt with me and Chaeyeon so she leaves.”

“Mhm yeah,” he chuckled once more, voice laced with sarcasm as he spoke, “I’ll come over, but if you don't sleep with him by the end of the night, I’m gonna be extremely disappointed.”

“Yeah okay whatever just get your ass over here now.”

And with that you abruptly ended the phone call, Changbin giving you no peace of mind. Were you this easy to read by everybody? A frustrated sigh exploded from your chest. The games your head and your heart were playing with were helping you come to no resolution. You sat on your bed, thoughts were running crazy. Now would be a really great time to just put on Netflix and curl into bed, have some snacks and fall asleep, chip trail on ur chest to be found in the morning.

You were interrupted by the very loud knock on the door. Sprinting like your life depended on it, you were relieved. Seeing Changbin’s face had never before given you so much joy.

“Changbin,” you shouted, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Y/n what are you doing-”

“Shut up and go along with it,” you mumbled into his chest, letting up, but still keeping your body tightly wounded against his. Minho’s jaw became clenched, or were you just imagining things?

Regardless of what it was, your brain quickly shifted to the way Chaeyeon was eyeing Changbin up and down, almost like it was the first time she had ever seen an attractive male. ‘She definitely wasn’t looking at Minho like that when he walked in’ you thought, an unconscious smirk coming to mouth. You bit down on your bottom lip, an extremely poor attempt at masking the satisfaction of your goal being achieved so easily. One step closer to kicking her out, for good, because there was no way you weren’t talking to Minho after this about making an explicit declaration of her abandonment from this house.

“Minho,” he smiled, earning a nod, “Chaeyeon,” he smirked, an almost gag spilling out of your mouth.

“Changbin,” she followed, repeating his smirk, “long time no see.”

She gulped, engulfing a large sip of alcohol into her wicked mouth.

“Let’s play a game!”

“A game,” you questioned, raising an eyebrow, “why would we play-”

“I think that’s a great idea!”

You turned to look at him, a puzzled expression still very apparent on your facial features.

“Get the vodka out from the fridge, and let’s get started.”

***

Two bottles of vodka down, and what looked like 8 bottles of Corona sitting empty on the table, the games that were being played were becoming more difficult to comprehend. Sound of giggle and laughter constantly filled the room as everyone slowly began to lose their minds to the intoxication.

“O-okay, never have I e-ever, done a sexual act in public.”

Filters of chuckles and laughter filled the room as everyone, but you took a sip.

“What?” she asked, offering you her fake sympathy, “you’ve never done anything like that before?”

“I-I mean,” you stuttered, the look of confusion was evident, “I don’t think I have-”

“Yes you have.”

All eyes were snapped open and pressing into Minho’s skull as he began to converse.

“Pfft, no I have not,” you scoffed, taking another swig. An eye roll left came from Minho, followed by a sound of what seemed to be disgust as he shot gunned his current bottle.

“Yes you have,” he nagged, playfully hitting your shoulder, “I saw you.”

Complete silence fell over the room as he words lingered in the air. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.The feeling of the room had suddenly changed. His eyes became soft, fixated on nothing but the way your body slumped against the rough material of the couch.

Your mind began to drift. Thoughts floating into earlier scenes of the night. The closeness of his breath fanning your neck ever so softly, palms spread across your hips. The idea of marks on you swimming into your head. God that would feel so good. Letting him grab you and throw you onto his bed. Climbing up your frame, starting from the bottom of your legs, keeping a tight grip on your inner thighs. The feeling of faint lips stealing every inch of your being, tantalisingly hitting every, single, spot, finally reaching your-

“Y/N? Y/N!”

The feeling of Changbin's shaking your shoulders definitely brought you back to reality. His hands did feel nice, but they weren’t the ones you were longing for. Your head was thrown back, disbelief filling you as your mind continued to fill the gutter.

“When?”

As you moved closer, you giggled, placing your finger tip across his knee. You let them dance, index fingers tapping away at the skin you so desperately wanted to see in this moment.

“Mr. Lee Minho, when did you see me?”

“I’m not saying it here in front of-”

“Who? Chaeyeon?”

Your prowling continued, bodies even closer as you slowly began to climb him like an inanimate object. This would have been completely awkward sober. Nothing about this was romantic in the slightest. To an outsider, or Changbin and Chaeyeon, you were right there, situated across Minho’s lap. It wasn’t quite a straddle, it was just something. They both stayed quiet, paying little attention to your animalistic act, already focused on feeling each other up. Or so you assumed, seeing as they didn’t say anything. All that was heard was the sound of the front door. You snapped your head for a quick moment, eyes scanning the emptiness the room suddenly felt.

“It was in the car.”

Minho’s words felt heavy, like he had more to say.

“The car?”

You were taken aback, face moving away from the closeness of his. Part of your brain clicked, remembering exactly what he was talking about. With Jisung. The memory of hurt was quickly forgotten as the feeling of Minho’s palms spread across your body was bringing you to life. The adrenaline came all at once. Your mind was telling you to move away, but your body was saying something else, affirming it’s position.

Minho was leaning in, barely any spaces between the two as his fingertips began to spread lower and lower, firmly gripping either side of your ass as he moved you closer. A helpless whimper escaped your lips as you felt your legs tighten, heat running down to your core, quickly. What the fuck was happening right now?

“You were on top of him,” he whispered, pulling your hips against him once more, “just like this.”

“F-fuck,” was all that managed to slip out of your lips. This was becoming difficult. So difficult to say no and move away. You knew it was the right thing to do. Things would just be awkward and you could go back to hating him. No matter how much you tried, how much you wanted to, you were powerless. Every fiber of your being was being given up to him. You leaned in closer, foreheads now touching as you looked at him. His gaze was anything but lacklustre as his jaw became tense. His body began to ache simultaneously with yours. The pressure was becoming too much.

“Do you want this?”

“What?”

A small whine escaped you at the loss of his tips gripping your body. They quickly made their way to either side of your face. Your body began to rock back and forth on it’s own. You had become desperate for any sort of friction that you could create.

“I said, do you want this?”

“Do you?”

His expression made you nervous. It was hard to read. All you could see was the black substance of his pupils enlarge, increasing in diameter by the second. Almost like a supernatural being was possessing him.

“Fuck,” you grunted, wrapping your hands around his neck to steady yourself on top of him, “you’re making it hard to say no.”

Things were already becoming hazy the longer you stayed. A huff of frustration came from him as he was giving all his effort not to give into the way you were rubbing your dampening heat against him. It was like a drug he could not refuse.

“Kiss me if you want me.”

He huffed, the edge of his lips just barely brushing against the tip of your nose.

“Kiss me, and give me the green light.”

You waited a moment, any part of your brain that wasn't concentrated solely on his palms digging into your sides trying to reason. You looked at him once more. His eyes, nose, lips. His lips.

“Fuck it.”

He was quick to work, pushing you down to lie flat against the couch. A small kiss to your lips was felt as he pulled away, lifting his arms up and throwing his shirt to the floor at Usain Bolt pace. The smirk on your face was too easy for him not to see.

“You like what you fucking see don’t you?”

“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Of course. Of course he was still that arrogant cocky motherfucker that you could not stand. The one who never cleaned up after himself. Or took too long in the shower for the hot water to run out. All of these evil perceptions you had of your roommate were disappearing as his lips were gently placed onto yours. It was a little too slow for your liking, but it was deep. Boy, was it deep. Each movement of his tongue was made with so much precision as he lowered himself onto you. His thighs were clenched, a soft groan could be heard against his lips as his groin pressed into you. Holy fuck, were you really doing this? It was so wrong. Everything in the world was saying to stop, stop this.

“Mm- wait,” you paused your hands on his chest to push him away, “wait.”

A flash of panic waved over his eyes as he quickly jumped off of you, face palming the floor.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you-”

“I’m fine,” you interjected, giggling at the never been seen care and caution he had for you, “I just don’t think we should do this.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. You kept your gaze lowered; looking at him would have made you feel so guilty. The feeling of regret started to seep into your bones, but you couldn't tell: was it regret of this ever happening, or was it regret from stopping? Your head was too muddled to even attempt to comprehend what had just appended. The only sound that could be heard was your scuffed footsteps, quickly pacing back to your room and shutting the door, hard. The loudest sigh known to earth could be heard on the opposite side of the room as you let your body collapse. The ache between your legs was growing by the second; and as much as you tried to suppress the feeling of Minho’s lips on yours, fingertips dragging along your sides. No. It was much easier this way. Setting boundaries as roommates seemed to be a better idea for the long run.

But the long run was boring. You would both have to pretend that this never happened. Having other people over for sexual purposes would just be awkward now; the more you thought about it, the realisation, and the jealousy hit that you had already crossed said boundary. And maybe that’s why your feet had dragged you to the front of his bedroom door. How the fuck did you get here? You brought your knuckles to the wooden frame, door becoming slightly ajar as you gently knocked. Minho’s snapped his head around, covering himself quickly as you walked in. You cocked your eyebrow, a face of confusion apparent on your face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he huffed, turning back to his previous position, “what do you want?”

You wanted to just walk out. Mind your business and just leave. But it was hard, quite literally. The imprint of what you assumed to be Minho’s naked lower half painfully pressing into the sheer sheets that was covering him. He paid you no more attention, giving you all the power to initiate whatever it is you wanted to initiate. You slowly crept in beside him, nuzzling your head into the back of his neck as he groaned in annoyance.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“Hmm, I think I changed my mind,” you whispered, reaching around to grab him. A blunt hiss escaped Minho’s lips as your action made him turn around. He was so close to you now. So close that you could feel his breath spreading across your left cheek.

“Are you being serious right now?”

The look on his face was unimpressed to say the least.

“Yeah, I mean,” your voice was calm as your hand began to take flight, sliding down to the base of his shaft, “we’ve already crossed the line, let’s go a little further.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He grabbed you by the wrist that was currently on him, pulling it away and climbing on top of you. Both hands now leaving his side, securely attached onto both wrists as he pinned them down above your head. Nose clumsily tickling yours as he reattached his lips to yours. The feeling of his lips was much softer and calmer than before, almost like he was protecting you. Wanting to keep the moment so delicate, though the way his bare hips involuntarily grinding against your clothed core was far from it. A soft whimper came from your lips, vibrating against his. A soft chuckle was heard from Minho as he pulled away; it made you nervous. To be more specific, the way that arrogant, mischievous smirk that you knew all too well was spread across his face.

“You’re so responsive to me,” he growled, quickly planting another one on your lips before sliding down to your jaw, then your neck, stopping at your chest. Nothing needed to be said as you quickly discarded your shirt, silently thanking your past self for not wearing any underneath. Minho situated himself in front of your now bare chest, waist sitting against your heart as he took one nipple into his mouth, fingers enclosing around the other. A loud whine left your lips, back arching in reaction to him. He looked up, satisfied filling his body as you weren’t able to return his gaze, head already rolled all the way back as he continued his playful assault.

“It’s so cute,” he mumbled between kisses, “so responsive and I’ve barely done anything.”

His lips travelled down the center of your stomach, dipping dangerously closer to where you wanted him most. His continuous rhythm between kisses was immaculate. Any of the incoherent sounds you made, or the crude remarks he made were left unsaid.

“Fuck,” you hissed, painfully throbbing at the way Minho played with the waistband of your panties.

“Not fun to be teased y/n,’ he paused, making sure you were looking at him, “is it.”

A pang of guilt hit your chest for a moment. I mean, it’s not like you did it on purpose, right?

“Minho I’m-”

“Save it,” he scoffs, “whether you did it on purpose, or not, I’m not gonna let you have it so easily.”

His fingers stopped their performance across your hips, continuing a little lower than before. The smirk came to his lips once more, index finger running down your slit. The friction was fierce, but not fierce enough. You wanted, no, you needed more. All he could do was smile at your mercy.

“So fun to tease darling, but you’re gonna have to be more vocal if you want these panties off.”

“Minho please,” you whined, “for fucks sake.”

You bucked your hips forward, desperate for any more contact from the bare minimum he was giving you.

“That doesn’t sound very nice to me.”

“Minho please, please, please,” you whispered, voice becoming super weak, “fuck me, or finger me, anything please, I need to feel you.”

“Now that’s more like it,” he smiled, finally pulling your panties down. You have never lifted your hips faster in your life. The vulnerability of your naked body was somewhat confronting, but your brain was so fogged out from the immense teasing, you cared little.

“Fuck,” he gasped, spreading you effortlessly with two fingers, “you’re so wet for me, aren't you?”

The heat in your cheeks rose as you became embarrassed at his words. Minho didn’t know this, but feeling humiliated was something that could make you cum on the spot. Words intended for insult went through your ears and straight down to the core, the heat becoming like an intense fire igniting in your body as one of his hands moved along your inner thigh, the other gently beginning to circle around where you needed him most.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god Minho please, more.” Your voice was becoming needier by the second, but the longer it went on, the less you seemed to care. His tongue was now a factor coming into play, small kitty licks lapping your clit at a suddenly fast pace. Your legs are already trembling, but Minho does more to appease, hooking his arms under and around your thighs to stop the flustered look on your face. It was confronting how quickly he was getting you to your high.

“Please,” you sighed, eyes hazed as you attempted to look down at the way his tongue was on you. The combination of him sucking on your clit, then pushing it through your entrance almost made you scream. However, the noises that came from your mouth were small, heavy pants, progressively getting louder and louder the tighter the knot in your stomach became.

“Do you wanna cum princess?” His voice was whiny, mocking the tone you had used earlier. You nodded ferociously, knowing any attempt to speak would come out horse or just broken.

“Such a good girl,” he purred, replacing his tongue with two fingers, “but if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beg for it once more.”

“You’re such a fucking dick,” you groaned, an attempt of grinding your center onto Minho’s fingers failing miserably, “you’re being so unfair.”

“I’m unfair?” he scoffed, beginning his digits back to a bare minimum pace, “you’re the one

who was teasing me all night. I know Changbin is like, your best friend so there was no chance you were bringing him back to fuck him. Then you start to kiss me, hard and fast may I add, AND THEN ! you aren’t sure and you leave me to pretend like nothing happened.”

There was no witty comeback you could say in response because he was right. You were the one who has done the teasing for most of the night.

“You looked so fucked out right now baby,” his tone coming back to a calming medium, “begging for me to make you cum, which I can do right now,” he paused, climbing back to your side, lifting your left leg to continue his easy access to ur clit, “or you can beg even more to have my cock inside of you. The choice is yours.” You swallowed, hard. How could he say something so filthy? Out of all the times you had heard him bring other girls over, he would never talk like this. It was always so nice and calm, full of praise and compassion. Maybe they didn’t act like cock teases and let him just have what he wanted.

“C-cock,” you mumbled, pushing your backside against his now pulsating cock, “please give your cock sir.”

“Ooo sir, I like that one, but you’re gonna have to do more if you want me to fill you up princess.”

Words were becoming extremely hard to not only facilitate in your mind, but put them on your tongue and get out to him. He knew this. He knew your were on the brink of collapsing in cum, but the torture was too entertaining for him nonetheless. Although you're frustrated with him was increasing, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the way he was using you like a sex toy was turning you on. After being up his ass so long with rules around the house and how you wanted things done, it was nice to finally let go. Submit to his rules instead of yours.

“P-please Minho, sir’ you panted, head turning to look at the sadistic face of enjoyment he was having from this, “I’ll do anything, a-anything to have your cock inside of me right now.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Okay then tomorrow morning, you have to make me breakfast, AND wash my dishes.”

“Seriously,” you panted, “that’s what you're thinking about right now?”

“You said anything.” He shrugged, suddenly taking his fingers away from your dripping core. A gasp of disappointment came to your lips at the loss of delicious contact. Minho sat up, ducking under your leg, and positioning himself right back to where he was previously. However, this time, he was on his knees. Although you were touching it before, you really hadn't had a chance to look at how big it was: way more than what you expected. He stroked himself a couple of times, making sure not to get carried away with himself before he pushed it between your folds, letting his pre-cum mix with your juices. He slowly descended into you. Jaws dropping simultaneously, you gasped. The way he was stretching you out did burn a little bit, but once he was fully inside, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Minho waited until the look of slight discomfort faded from your features.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip and he slowly pulled himself back out. He kept a consistent, yet slow pace as leaned in closer to you. He was now hovering over, letting his face become buried into the middle of your breasts. The feeling was so immaculate, you were desperate to cling onto something for support.

“Dig them into me,” he groaned, strangling his vocal cords, “dig your nails into my back and scratch me like your life fucking depends on it.”

Perfect. You did as he pleased, a loud moan of his name wrestling from your lips as you felt the red marks appear on his backside. The pressure from before was already building in your stomach again, and he could tell. The way you were super tight for him was one, but the way you were now clenching around him was another. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept doing that.

“Fuck,” was all you could manage to say, a deep grin plastered on his face.

“You’re close aren't you,” he cooed, attaching his lips to your neck, “talk to me baby, tell me what you're feeling.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck I’m so close baby. H-Harder.”

The pitch of your tone was becoming whinier by the second. To add to that, the way you became confused, as if Minho was a vampire, because the way he was sucking on your neck was kind of painful. Nevertheless, you relished in it, knowing too well that a very, very dark mark would replace his mouth. The idea of him showing his possession of you, knowing that he finally won you over did not make you happy, nonetheless, you were too fucked out to care.

Your legs were now pushed all the way back, pace fastening by the minute, allowing Minho to push even deeper into you. And that was it. Right there, the spot you had never even known was even there.

“Ah fuck!” Your moan was loud this time, completely unable to control anything. The smirk, in combination with the satisfied growl that left his lips was a face of pure ecstasy as he realised that he had finally hit your G-spot.

“Fuck that feels so fucking good,” Minho grumbled, “are you close? Because I think I’m gonna cum.”

It was like your stomach was an orchestra. Minho’s words were the conductor, completely controlling how close you were to your release.

“Y-yes,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum so hard right now.”

“You wanna cum baby?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna cum right now?”

“Yes baby,” you pouted, a perplexity of sounds escaping your lips, completely out of your control.

“Cum on my cock princess,” Minho whispered through what sounded to be like pained groans, “be a good girl and cum with me inside of you.”

And there it was, like it was on queue as your body completely flopped, legs shaking and a string of lewd curse words fell from your lips. The way your pussy clenched around him was enough to make him pull out, spilling into the dip of your stomach. A loud breath of what seemed to be exhaustion fell from his lips. Your eyes were previously screwed so shut, it hurt when you opened them again, sensitive to the light.

“Fuck,” you both cursed simultaneously, making one another giggle. Minho fell to your left side, flat on his back as he invited you to scooch over next to him. Face pressed against his chest, fingers playfully dragging up and down his torso. For some reason, he felt so safe and secure at this moment. Almost forgetting how he literally just fucked you into oblivion, your eyelids become heavy. It wasn’t until Minho spoke that you were revived from your alternate state of consciousness once more.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” His voice sounded genuinely surprised, unsure if you should be offended or not. You looked up at him, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He wasn’t sure how to react, but the dark shade tinting his face right now said enough.

“Please,” you scoffed, “You did me good, but was that the best you can do?”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, but down on it after, “Is that a challenge?”

You said nothing, instead sitting up and pushing your legs on either side of his hips. A soft moan escaped his lips as he felt your still dripping heat sitting on the base of him.

“Why don’t you find out and see?”

#lee minho #minho #leeknow #stray kids #lino #lee minho smut #skz smut #leeknow scenario #stray kids smut #stray kids scenario #dom leeknow #dom lee minho #dom lino #lino smut #ch4nb4ng

[wandaromanova]

Life Support

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, toxic relationship (?)

A/N: hello! happy reading <3

anon requested: Hi! Can I please request Nat always being on missions 24/7 and not spending time w reader and reader understands at first but after being constantly alone she finally confronts Nat when she’s getting ready to leave again so reader says “if you walk out of that door we’re done” then “please don’t walk out of that door” then Nat walks out so then they’re broken up. Sorry if it’s too specific💕

Summary: All good things must come to an end.

Word Count: 2K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

If there was one thing you were certain of, it was this; dating an Avenger wasn’t easy.

You were in a relationship with Natasha Romanoff, and have been for the better part of two years now. At first, everything had been absolutely incredible. The redhead would come to your apartment every night, her body entangled with yours beneath your bedsheets. You would wake up to Natasha sleeping soundly beside you, her arms wrapped around your waist as she held you close. Her warm breath would fan against the side of your neck as you took in her features. 

Natasha would slowly stir awake, her eyes moving side-to-side behind her closed eyelids before fluttering open. She would be met with your wide smile shining down at her, your fingers slowly combing through her tresses. The redhead would pull you down by the neck, placing a tender kiss against your lips. 

When she pulled back from the kiss, her eyes would travel down to your neck and admire the dark purple marks that were littered across your skin. It was exhilarating to her, knowing that you were hers. Natasha felt a sense of pride and couldn’t resist a smirk from taking over her face. 

You would cook breakfast in the kitchen while Natasha sat on the counter, ranting about the events of the day before. Your laughs filling the space as she mimicked Steve and Tony’s voices, mocking their ridiculous arguments. Eventually, the redhead would hop off of the counter and come up behind you, her front pressed against your back as she held you by the waist. 

Once the food was cooked, you would sit on Natasha’s lap at the table, your hands linked behind the back of her neck. She would eat and occasionally feed you, holding the spoon up to your mouth and purposely missing your mouth, effectively getting food on your face. Natasha would laugh as an annoyed look would cross your face, a pout gracing your lips. 

The Russian would wipe off the food with the pad of her thumb, sucking it off of her digit before kissing your pouty lips. She wouldn’t stop kissing you until your pout was replaced with a smile. You were in euphoria each time Natasha would visit, but all good things must come to an end.

A feeling of sadness would wash over you each time she would walk out the door, unsure of when she’d return. Seeing her leave never got any easier. All you wanted to do was beg her to stay in your arms, but you knew that wasn’t an option. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You weren’t the only person that needed Natasha and you understood that. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Despite the feeling of despair that would creep into your chest, you never complained. You were aware of how selfish it would seem if you were to even so much as bring up the topic of Natasha staying for longer than a night. She was a vital part of the Avengers, a team that saved the world from threats on a daily. 

You had handled the arbitrariness of Natasha’s profession pretty well and settled for it. Having Natasha in your life occasionally was a lot better than not having her at all. However, there was only so much you could take. And one night, you had finally had enough. 

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

For the past six months, you had seen Natasha a total of ten times. It seemed as if she had been taking on more missions that varied in their durations. She was gone for weeks at a time and wouldn’t contact you the entire time, unaware of when she was due to return. You would only find out when she was back home when she was already knocking at your front door. 

To say you missed Natasha would be the understatement of the century; you missed her like fucking crazy.

You would spend the weeks she was away, sleeping in bed alone as you clutched her pillow close to your chest. You practically lived in the sweaters she left at your apartment, the faint smell of her perfume lingering on the articles of clothing. The day you realized her scent had faded, you almost burst out into tears. 

It made you feel disgusted with yourself. You were waiting around like a lost puppy, desperate for Natasha’s return. You couldn’t focus at work either. Your thoughts were focused on Natasha.

Will she come home soon? Is she okay? Is the mission she’s on super dangerous? Is she not replying to your texts because she’s busy or because she isn’t alive to do so? Or what if she had been home and just didn’t care to see you? What if she didn’t love you anymore?

These questions circulated your mind in each time of Natasha’s absence. You knew that you had to confront her, but didn’t know how to go about the situation. What? Are you supposed to go up to her and say ‘Stop saving the world to spend time with me’? Obviously fucking not.

The more you thought about it, the more ridiculous you felt. Natasha was out risking her life for humanity and here you were, moping over not being able to see her. Pathetic. 

Regardless of how absurd you thought your concerns were, they didn’t stop you from finally confronting your never-present girlfriend.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

You had been sat on the couch when a knock sounded at the door. You immediately sprang up and rushed toward the door, hoping to see the woman that’s been plaguing your mind. To your surprise, you were met with red locks and green eyes shining with joy. 

You had to fight the urge to leap into her arms and shower her face with little kisses. Natasha’s happiness turned to confusion when you wordlessly moved to the side, giving her some room to enter. The sound of her heavy combat boots hitting the hardwood floor resounded throughout your apartment. 

You shut the door slowly, leaning your forehead against it with a sigh. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to confront the woman if you laid eyes on her. Natasha had you wrapped around her finger and you couldn’t help but feel like she capitalized on your weakness at times.

“Y/N? What’s wrong, moya lyubov (my love)?” Natasha’s raspy voice met your ears and you let out a shaky breath. “The fact that you don’t know what’s wrong IS what’s wrong.” Your voice came out small and you couldn’t see it, but Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

You heard her footsteps approaching you and you quickly turned around, coming face-to-face with your girlfriend, “What are you talking about?” Natasha’s hands moved up to cup your cheeks, but you swatted her hands away. 

“You’re never here, Natasha. That is what I’m talking about.” You walked past her and paced around the living room. The redhead was glued to her spot, her eyes following your every move. Your shoulders were tensed, your eyes were fixated on the floor as you walked around. Natasha had never seen you so serious before, and she wouldn’t admit it, but she was terrified.

“I’m here whenever I can be. Is that not enough for you?” Your movements came to an abrupt halt and you whipped around to stare at your girlfriend as if she had grown two heads. “No! It may be enough for you, but it isn’t for me! I’m alone for weeks on end without so much as a fucking text from you!” You raised your voice and Natasha felt irritation arise within her. 

“I can’t stop in the middle of a shootout or an interrogation to message you! I’m sorry that I’m away all the time and can’t give you details, but it’s my fucking job! You knew what you were getting into when you got involved with me.” Natasha moved until she stood directly in front of you, chest rising and falling quickly as she took shallow breaths. Her eyes were trained on yours with an intimidating glare, but you weren’t scared of her. 

“My job is a priority.” The redhead gritted out through clenched teeth. You felt your own anger expand at her words. “And I’m not?” You questioned Natasha challengingly and she shook her head with a dark chuckle. 

“No. You’re not.” You felt your heart shatter completely. Her tone was emotionless and she spoke as if she didn’t care at all; like you were a stranger.

“My job comes before anything, including you. I can’t let the world fall apart just because you’re a needy bitch that can’t spend a fucking minute without me.”

Natasha was relentless and you couldn’t handle it. Tears rapidly fell from your eyes as your chest constricted, making it hard to breathe.

People who said that words couldn’t physically hurt you; were full of shit. Each word that fell from her lips felt like a stab to the heart. And as everyone knew, Natasha Romanoff was very good with knives. 

“What? You’re not gonna say anything now? You sure as hell had a lot of shit to talk a minute ago.”

Natasha’s tone was cold and you hated yourself for still trying to find the warmth that you used to soak in, but you couldn’t find it. All you were met with was a blistering wind that sent shivers up your spine. 

You remained silent, focusing on containing the harsh sobs that threatened to wrack your body. Natasha rolled her eyes at you and turned around, heading straight for the door. An alarm sounded in your head as you watched her walk away. 

“If you walk out of that door, we’re done.” Your voice cracked slightly as you spoke. Natasha froze, her hand on the doorknob going still. She stayed there for a minute, contemplating her next move. Of course, you didn’t think the redhead would actually leave, but she was always full of surprises.

Your eyes widened as she twisted the knob, pulling the door open. “Wait! Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry.” Honestly, you didn’t really know why you were apologizing. If anything, the roles should’ve been reversed in this moment, but you were willing to say or do anything if it meant Natasha would stay.

Natasha ignored your pleas and took one step out of the door before you hastily rushed after her. You gripped her wrist for dear life and her head whipped around, a look of annoyance on her face. 

“Let go of me.” Natasha tore her hand out of your hand easily, considering she was much stronger than you were. You remained in the doorway as you watched the redhead strut down the hall until she reached the staircase. As soon as you lost sight of her, you slammed the door and fell to your knees. 

You had no intention of destroying your relationship. All you wanted to do was voice your concerns to Natasha. You were expecting endless reassurances as she wrapped her strong arms around your body.

But instead, you were crying on the cold floor of your apartment, her harsh words echoing throughout your mind. Part of you was waiting for her to knock on the door and apologize profusely for leaving, but Natasha was lots of things, and stubborn was one of them. 

Once Natasha came to a decision, there wasn’t much that could change her mind. That’s what hurt the most. You were positive that the redhead loved you just as much as you did her. You felt as though nothing could sever the unbreakable connection that brought you two together. The possibility of Natasha willingly leaving you had never crossed your mind. Nothing could’ve ever prepared you for this outcome.

Natasha Romanoff was your everything. Her cocky smirk and infectious laughter were the oxygen that filled your lungs each time you took a breath. Her shiny green eyes and red locks were the chemical reactions of your brain that produced dopamine. 

Her love coursed through your bloodstream and kept your heart pumping. But now, she was gone. The minute she walked out, the light in your eyes disappeared and your skin slowly turned to dust. Without the woman you loved, you were nothing but a withering corpse going through the decomposition process.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha was your life support and she decided it ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ was time to pull the plug. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader angst #natasha romanoff angst #black widow x reader #black widow #request done

[damiano-mylove]

Movie Night

Pairing: Damiano David x fem!reader

Wc: 2.6k (sorry)

Cw(s): SMUT, bit of angst, swearing ofc, long for some reason, begging, not proof read

*Masterlist*

Work is a healthy habit to get into - to a certain extent. If you work to avoid your problems, that's not particularly one of the most healthy things to do. The only problem working can fix is if you're poor, but really minimum wage doesn't fix that either.

But your Damiano wasn't poor, he wasn't being paid minimum wage. You knew how much he loved working on music with his friends, but he was barely home and you missed him. Being without Damiano almost felt like being without your left arm - especially since it had been so abrupt, going from him spending a few hours writing, to spending almost a full day in the studio.

Tonight was supposed to be movie night. That Damiano had suggested. To make up for lost time.

So, you found yourself, alone, on your velvet red couch, watching Alice in Wonderland, with your cat on your lap. His purrs filled whatever wavelengths were left empty by the film, but you didn't mind that at all. Your fingers found their way into his incredibly soft fur, which felt like silk between those fingers of yours.

The clock soon struck midnight, and the film hit the end credits soon after. Damiano was still not home from the studio, which almost worried you. Almost. In the earlier days of him spending all of his time at Vic's for writing or in the studio, you had thought he'd run off with someone else. You woke up the next morning with him next to you, but that never really put that specific worry to rest.

"Romeo, Baby," you whispered to the silver tabby cat on your lap. He flicked his tail to let you know he heard you. "Dad's not home yet and I'm tired, we gotta go to bed. C'mon." Romeo only lifted his head to lay his grass green eyes on you once you stopped scratching his neck. You smiled to him, though his eyes didn't return it. "You've got half a minute before I move your furry tush."

To no one's surprise, Romeo took more than half a minute so you picked him up like a baby over your shoulder. Your palm cradled his soft feet. Like the lazy cat he was, Romeo fell back asleep on your shoulder on your short walk to your bedroom that you shared with the one and only, Damiano. He used to be a god to you, but now he was basically a roommate who you shared a kiss with every once in a while.

With Romeo asleep on the bed before you finished putting on pyjamas, you slunk off to brush your teeth. The door unlocked. Your heavy eyes cast unto the clock on the wall which read nearly half midnight.

Damiano came in like a whisper in the wind, save for the closet opening so he could deposit his coat. Shaking you head, you just finished brushing your teeth. Your mouth felt dry even though you'd just rinsed it with water.

"Cara mia," Damiano purred once his eyes caught your figure in the lamp light from the bedroom. You smiled at him and went into the bedroom to curl up with your cat and go to sleep. You had work in the morning and customers didn't appreciate workers who look like sleep-deprived zombies.

This was the first time in a long time that you didn't immediately greet him once he came through the door. So Damiano could sense a shift in the mood of the flat; really, he felt it as soon as he walked in and smelt chocolate and strong tea.

His footsteps never gave away where he was, but you could feel his presence enter the room. The bed dipped on the end just as Romeo curled further into you. When Damiano's hand held your ankle, Romeo let out a soft meow.

"What's wrong, Amore?"

"Did you forget or did you do it on purpose?" You immediately sat up as you asked the question. You were tired and to act like it was fine just wasn't in the cards tonight. Damiano's eyebrows drew together. You began to nod. "Movie night? You said you'd come home early to watch a film with us."

Damiano's face darkened in realization. You pursed your lip balm coated lips. Even Romeo could sense the tension and decided to stand up and sit square on your thighs, facing your boyfriend as if to protect you. Damiano looked to his hands which rested in his lap.

After a second, he said, "I-I thought that was tomorrow."

"Tonight was Tuesday night, now it's Wednesday morning," you muttered. Your fingers found the reassuring warmth of Romeo's fur once again and Romeo let out a rather sad sounding meow. "Oh, Romeo, don't worry. Dad just has to tell us he's sorry then we can sleep."

Both you and your cat looked to your boyfriend with tired but expectant eyes. Damiano's eyes never tore from his hands. Then it was like he was speaking to himself. "I was going to buy you flowers. And let you pick the film. And you were supposed to fall asleep on my shoulder, on the couch."

"It's okay, Dami, it's just a movie night," you told him. But your conscience caught you before you continued. Why the fuck were you reassuring him when he was the one who fucked up? Tell you that he'll be home in time for a sort of date night, then skip out. "We'll do it another night, it's all good."

"It's not all good, Y/n." One thing you could agree on tonight, though you'd never say that out loud. Finally, Damiano lifted his eyes from his soft hands. You noticed his eyes shimmer in the lamplight. "I really fucked up your night and for no good reason. I'm really sorry."

Leaning forward, you patted his arm. "Forgiven. We're adults and life gets in the way of romance."

"Not always, and not for us. I'm supposed to be the best boyfriend in the world but I've barely been a boyfriend to you at all lately, and I apologize." His words were stringing together faster in faster as he kept trying to keep his tears at bay. "It's just with the new album and everything, I'm finding out how shitty I am at balancing my life." Damiano came closer to you, holding your hand that once held his arm. "How can I make it up to you, Y/n? You're the love of my life and I don't want us to fizzle out."

For some reason, a little chuckle escaped your lips. His passion for you warmed your heart as you caught a glimpse of how you first had your heart captured by the man sitting before you. The light glittered in your eyes, for Damiano and Damiano alone. "We're not going to fizzle out over one missed movie night."

"Yes, but I've missed many of our nights, whether we made plans for them or not," Damiano rebutted. Your lips pressed together in a flat line. There was a certain ounce of truth to that statement. Damiano pressed a kiss to the back of your hand without maintaining eye contact. "Cara mia, nights are for the lovers, and I seem to have forgotten that."

His warm breath tickled the back of your hand just before his pressed more kisses to the back of your hand, then wrist, then fingers.

Sensing the warming room, Romeo left your lap. He threw you a final glance, seeming like he was making sure you didn't need him in the room to which you slightly nodded at the tabby. Romeo turned on his paws and left the room - leaving two starry-eyed partners who were still most ardently in love.

Without another word, you joined your lips with Damiano's. It had been a long while since a kiss such as this one had occurred. In the place of the usual passing kisses, this one made the love shared prominent. This kiss felt as if your Damiano was once again yours and totally yours; not as if he ever wasn't, but this was a much needed reminder of that.

Holding your face in his large hands, Damiano deepened the kiss by turning his head ever-so slightly. His tongue slid into your mouth with a passionate fervour. There was no battle for dominance, but a mutual exploration of each other's mouths.

Damiano tenderly laid you down against the pillows on your side of the bed, though his lips parted from yours which was an unhappy fate. "Do you want to go further, Cara mia? I know this doesn't equal forgiveness."

"I've never wanted anything more, Dami, my sweetest love," you promised him. Damiano smiled at your admission. He began to place gentle, loving kisses to your neck. "Only if you want to."

"Oh, trust me." Damiano nipped your collarbone, resulting in a yelp from you. You could feel his smirk against your warming skin. "I want to."

Damiano's bites roamed the skin of your chest that your tank top allowed, before you sat up to take it off. Your fingers found Damiano's soft hair as he left sloppy, wet kissed all over your now exposed chest. A bitten back moan escaped your mouth just as his tongue began to circle the tender skin of your nipple, making your back arch into the man above you.

This was an admission of your pleasure, so Damiano's mouth fully encircled your nipple as his hand that once caressed your hip, now cupped your other breast. His warm palm massaged you firmly, having Damiano's name fall from your lips. It had been a while since he'd touched you like this, with such care and attention. Every fiber of Damiano's being was now focused on making his love for you known.

When his warm mouth left your breast to be exposed to the chill of the room, his teeth grazed your sensitive nipple, having goosebumps multiply on your skin at a sky high rate. His mouth then was turned to your other breast as his other hand twisted and pinched the exposed nipple.

Your hands began trying to get his deep red shirt off, to bring his warmth to you. But before Damiano would let you have what you wanted most, he bit the sweet spot beneath your boob, no doubt leaving a mark that would be apparent the next day.

As Damiano leaned up to pull his shirt over his head, you nearly melted underneath him. His hair was already beginning to become delightfully fucked up and the look in his eye was absolutely dark. The look he gave you before joining your lips once again was full of love, accompanied by lust and desire. Damiano slid off his tight leather trousers while he was at it, allowing you to palm him through his briefs.

The kiss shared was now hungry and feverish. The nails of the unoccupied hand scratched down his back, resulting Damiano bucking his hips into your hand. You removed it, which finally gave you the glorious friction that you so completely craved. Damiano no doubt sensed this as he grabbed the back of your thigh as he continued to grind right into the thin layer that separated you both.

"Damiano, please," you nearly cried. The chuckle that came from Damiano was low and only made your panties become even more wet.

"Please what?"

"You know what I mean." He was killing you. Once the words left your lips, Damiano ground his hips into you again. "Fuck me. Fuck me, please. Please."

"See, was that so hard, Amore?" Damiano purred as he lowered the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. He threw them somewhere in the room before pressing his index finger against your clit. You tried to pull him in for a kiss, but Damiano resisted. "Ah, ah, I want to see just how much I effect you."

"You're the fucking-wow-devil himself."

Damiano's laugh bordered upon an evil one. "You love me."

"I love you, I love you so fucking much," you moaned. Damiano smiled as he lowered your grey panties. Those were discarded somewhere along with your pyjama bottoms, but you couldn't give half a fuck because Damiano's perfectly manicured finger found it's way inside of you. You bucked against his hand, making Damiano laugh.

His finger drew circles inside of you while his thumb still played with your clit. God, Damiano was so much better than your own fingers. Without a warning, another finger was added, making a sort of porn-esque moan leave you. Damiano groaned at the sound as well as the sight in front of him. Even his dreams of you weren't as good as this.

It wasn't as if he could help himself from leaning down once again and attaching his mouth to your erect nipple. Your eyes crossed at three parts of your body were on fire with immense pleasure. The flames of rapture enveloped most of your body, even your soul.

"I'm-m-m gonna cum," you cried out. Damiano smiled against your breast as his fingers began going faster. "No, no, let me cum on your cock." Damiano looked up at you with a bit of surprise. You'd never said something like that without prompt.

The needy look that painted your face was all Damiano had to see before he complied. His briefs were off in the blink of an eye and he began to pump himself just to prepare. Your legs were spread wide as you could already feel yourself drip onto the sheets below which made Damiano groan with barred teeth.

He lined himself up with your entrance and gave you one final questioning look. You nodded adamantly before he pushed himself through your folds.

Truly, you could feel your soul ascend as you remembered just how big he was. You big your lip so hard you nearly broke skin while Damiano hissed an intake of breath. He came down to your lips to taste your minty mouth just as his hips began rocking into you, first at a slow pace, then began to get closer.

Damiano's hips snapped into yours quickly, and the sound of smacking skin filled the room, along with the scent of sex and sweat. The combination of both of your moans filled each other's mouths. The bedroom was incredibly hot but somehow you were in a cold sweat, save for where your body joined with Damiano's in sweet harmony.

"Fuck, Y/n, you're so fucking tight," Damiano huffed. You clenched around his cock, only making Damiano cry out with pleasure. Your nails drew down his back, clinging him closer and closer to you with every thrust against your g-spot. Tears brimmed your eyes as a knot formed in the lower part of your stomach.

"Soon, I'm cumming soon."

"Cum on my cock, Baby, just like you want."

You could tell his thrusts were getting sloppy because he was closing in on his release as well. But you couldn't help but cum first as the knot suddenly exploded within you.

Your walls spasmed against Damiano as your release washed over you. Your legs tingled and your toes went a bit numb. Damiano then hit in you a few more times before his own seed seeped into you. It was warm and you felt incredibly full as Damiano stayed within you for an extra few seconds, before falling next to you.

"I know you said this wouldn't equal forgiveness but I'm feeling very forgiving," you sighed. Damiano chuckled and looked over at you. Your skin glowed in orgasmic radiance and your hair was completely fucked out. Damiano's heart swelled at the sight and he couldn't help but kiss you again.

He cleaned you both up after, with a warm wash cloth, and got you new pyjamas. Romeo reentered the room once the sex smell was gone and you were in Damiano's arms once again. Your cat curled between both of you in the dead of night, like the beginnings of a family.

Damiano came home Wednesday afternoon with a massive bouquet that must have cost a pretty pence, a box of Belgian chocolate and a bag of cat treats. It seemed a movie night was in order.

#damiano #damiano david #damiano x reader #damiano david fanfiction #damiano david x reader #damiano maneskin #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin #måneskin #smut #x reader

[lavenderwhore444]

Ah shit here we go again

Btw this is moth shigaraki

So imagine this you work at this place that’s like a zoo that has moths and other creatures ( u can tell I’m struggling) so ur coworkers were trying to get this baby moth inside it’s cage but it kept panicking and crying ( I think u know who is this baby moth) u went to see what’s up that’s how u saw the most beautiful moth u ever seen, you picked up the baby moth ( meanwhile ur coworkers were panicking) it just calmed down everyone was 👁👄👁 long story short u were now in charge of shigaraki, u took care of him feed him u did everything, until he was literally taller then u are ( moths grow up fast ok?) shigaraki was in love with u even when u had ur days off ( he absolutely hated when u had to leave home boy would throw tantrums) he would never let anyone touch him if anyone did they might of lost a couple of fingers, when u came back from ur break he would be attach to ur hip he would not let go not to mention he probably scratched the hell out of his neck so u had to deal with that, oh yeah he was overprotective of u won’t anyone touch u

Let’s just say u were super sick so u had to take a week off, u were devastated that ur not gonna be able to see shigaraki (u had to admit that u have fallen in love with him) so for now u were trying to get better, meanwhile shigaraki was losing his shit he thought u left him ( or dead💀 lmao) he couldn’t wait anymore so he escaped, it was easy finding where u lived since he memorized ur scent, u suddenly heard a noise come out of room ( u went to get some water or something idk sis) as u entered u found shigaraki, shigaraki ran to u and just hugged ( basically crashed u with his two sets of arms) he started to cry he wouldn’t let go, u got super worried and asked him what’s wrong, so he explained what happened then u suddenly felt super weak and almost fainted shigaraki was panicking asking if ur ok, u said that u had a fever thats all, shigaraki just put u back on the bed, shigaraki finally had the opportunity to repay u, he had read somewhere that sex can help ( it’s totally not an excuse for him to see u naked) he just wants to please u( his mommy 😏) his wings vibrated at the thought of pleasing u, let just say u had no problem with it. ( so when shigaraki is done reader flops shigaraki on the bed and fucks the shit out of him as a thank u gift lollll)

Kinks umm sub shigaraki whos eager to please and dom reader, this one hundred percent has a mommy kink umm I cant think of anything, this isn’t my best ideas so feel free to ignore this 😔😫

-🤡

Storms

Tomothura :) 🦋

I'm sleepy, and I want milk and cookies. Not to flex, but I only have to see my therapist every other week cause ig I'm just perfect.

Update I now see her once a week and have to take dbt a THIRD (?) time

I have a bad smell and taste in my mouth and nose from covid. It reminds me of meatballs but in the worst way :/

Warnings: masturbation, heat, vaginal sex, humping, loss of virginity (both parties), breeding, & mommy kink.

InteractiveFics

Master List

I have rewritten this six times. No matter how much I write, whether it's 100 words or 1,000,000 words, I can't create a smooth transition between y/n's like caregiver (?) relationship with Shiggy to a romantic/sexual relationship with him. To put it simply, I give up 💀 . HOWEVER, I did cook up another scenario in my mind, so even though I have strayed from the original blueprint, I will still deliver a moth Shigaraki fic to all of you <3

To those of you brave people who aren't scared of storms:

1) I envy you.

2) I apologize because I need y/n to be scared of storms for my plot.

Thinking abt writing a poly relationship with y/n shigaraki and dabi. It’d just be so cute.

On another unrelated note: why did I get put on the gross end of scent kinks (yes, those exist)? Instead of being like, “mmm sexy cologne,” I'm like, “Dabi reeking after being on a long mission and cuddling, so I have to smell him and get his sweat on me, ” like Claire. Control yourself.

It was a beautiful night. The only light around you was the moon, the stars, and dozens of fireflies. It was warm and calm, no wind, no rain, not even a chill though the sun had set. You walked further through the forest. Your friends had gotten tired and retired to the campsite. You, however, had chosen to wander some more. You found clarity in the woods at night.

You stumbled upon a beautiful pond surrounded by luscious green trees. Lily pads floated in the water, and frogs croaked. The number of fireflies had increased, and little fairy circles littered the ground (you were careful not to step in them). There was a little cabin up a small hill. It had wooden walls and small windows which stopped you from seeing the inside.

You checked the time, 12:55 a.m. As you walked back, it started to rain. Great. A little rain never hurt anyone, right? But then it began to storm. The kind of storm that knocked loose widow makers, that made the ground shake, and could cause mudslides. You had to get inside and fast. You were closest to the cottage from earlier, and the trees got thicker by your campsite. You ran back as fast as you could and knocked on the door.

“Hello? Is anyone in there? It's storming, and my campsite is too far away, ” you called.

“It's open, ” a voice called.

You opened the door and shut it quickly, not wanting to be out in the storm for a second longer. Then, you took off your shoes.

“I’m making tea for us, ” the voice said.

“Oh, it's ok. You really don't have to-”

“I didn't ask you, ” the voice said again, “just accept my hospitality, ”

You sat down on the couch and scrolled through your phone. Even though you had sworn it had 50% left, it was now nearly dead.

“Do you have a phone charger I could borr-” the lights flickered off, “never mind, ”

Here you were, trapped in a stranger's house as it stormed with nothing but a dead phone and no power. The stranger walked into the room, and your first reaction was to scream.

“Calm down. I'm not gonna hurt you, ” Shigaraki said, setting down your tea.

“You're- you have- what are- y-you have, ” you stuttered in shock.

“Yeah, I've got wings and shit. Calm down, ” Tomura said, taking a sip of his tea.

You sat in silence for a moment as you processed.

“I'm tomura shigaraki, ” he said, “if we're stuck here together while it storms, we might as well know each other's names, ”

“I'm y/n, ” you said.

“Pretty name, ” Shigaraki said.

“Thank you, ” you nodded, “so how long do you think the storm will last?”

“No idea, but here it can rain for up to five days, ” he said.

“Oh, ” you said.

“It’ll be fine. I've got food for both of us, ” Shigaraki said.

“No, that's not what I'm worried about. I'm just scared of-” thunder roared, and lightning struck. You nearly jumped out of your seat.

“You're scared of storms, ” he finished, “you can come sit next to me if it would make you feel better or whatever, ” he offered.

You nodded and sat next to him. Despite looking...strange, his presence was very comforting. More thunder and lighting caused you to jump. He wrapped one of his soft wings around you.

“You're fine, y/n. Don't worry, ok?” Tomura said.

Did he know why he was letting you sit so close to him? No. Did he know why he wanted to comfort you? Also no.

“You're wet, ” he said.

You nearly choked, “what?”

“I’ll give you some clothes while yours are in the dryer, ” he said, getting up.

“Can I come with you?” you said, “I don't want to be alone, ”

He sighed, “sure, come on, ”

You both headed up to his room, and he threw you some clothes. Shigaraki looked at you, waiting patiently.

“Well?” he said.

“I'm not gonna change in front of you, ” you said, cheeks glowing bright red.

“I don't know why you're making it a big deal, ” he muttered, turning away.

Truthfully he'd never seen anyone naked and had lived alone most of his life. When he thought about you naked or even just in your underwear, he felt strange.

“I'll be right back, ” he muttered, heading to the bathroom.

He had a strange urge to touch himself, so he indulged. After unzipping his pants, he cupped his hardening cock gently and hissed at the new sensation. It felt weird but good. So good. He wrapped a hand around it and started stroking it gently, nearly moaning out loud.

He turned on the sink to mask any accidental noises. He kept stroking for a while longer, stifling even more noises. Soon he felt an intense tingling sensation in his balls that seemed to grow stronger and spread throughout his cock. As he finally burst, his whole body relaxed, and thick, white sticky liquid shot out of his dick. It was foreign to him, but it felt wonderful.

Meanwhile, outside, you had heard everything. You sat on the bed awkwardly as Tomura came out of the bathroom. He took your wet clothes.

“The um dryer is just downstairs, ” he said, looking towards the floor, “if you want to come with, ”

“Sure, ” you nodded, following behind him.

With your clothes in the dryer, you both sat downstairs on the couch. It was silent until you decided to try and lighten the mood.

“So what um do you like to do for fun?” you asked.

“I like games a lot, ” he said, taking a carrot off a plate of vegetables he'd gotten the two of you.

“I like games too, ” you smiled.

The both of you talked about games for a while until you nearly passed out.

“Hey, head upstairs. I'll take the couch, ” Shigaraki said, noticing your eyelids fluttering shut.

“No, I don't want to take your bed, ” you yawned.

“Get upstairs y/n. I'm serious just sleep in my fucking bed, ” Shigaraki ordered.

“But-, ”

“No, no buts, ” he interrupted.

“The least I can do is let you sleep with me. Won't you crush your wings on the couch?” you said.

“Fine. If it makes you feel better, I guess, ” Shigaraki mumbled.

You both walked upstairs. Shigaraki found a toothbrush for you, and you got into bed with him. You slept back to back, but it was cold. No, frigid. He could tell by the way you were shivering. He turned towards you and held you with both pairs of arms. A wing draped over you, and he rested his chin on your head.

“Don’t make it weird, ” he grunted.

“Ok, ” you said, sleep clouding your mind.

By the following day, you had turned towards him, and you both were completely tangled in each other. It was still storming when you woke up. You pulled Shigaraki closer, savoring his warmth.

“Morning, sleepyhead, ” he said.

“Morning, ” you responded.

He stroked your hair gently, wings humming quietly. He flipped on the light, and to your surprise, it worked. The power was back on!

“I’ll make breakfast, ” you said, getting up.

He pulled you back down, “ten more minutes. You're warm, ”

Ten minutes turned into an hour as you dozed off again. You couldn't help it, he was warm, and his nimble fingers traced designs on your back. The bed was so soft, and so were his wings. After a while, he woke you up, poking your cheek.

“Can you still make breakfast?” he said, smiling down at you.

You looked so beautiful with messy hair and tired eyes. Shigaraki couldn't help himself as he traced a finger over your lips. He saw the blush on your cheeks and rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip.

“You have nice lips, ” he whispered.

“Thank you, ” you said.

He sensed your breathing pick up along with your heartbeat.

“Your heart is beating really fast, y/n, ” Shigaraki said, bringing his face closer to yours, “are you alright?”

“Yeah. yeah, I'm fine, ” you said, “don't worry about me, ”

He nodded, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“If you say so, ” he said, getting out of bed.

You already missed the warmth of his body; it was still freezing from all the rain. How could the weather change so quickly? You followed him downstairs and began to make breakfast. As you were cooking, you felt him put one of his zip-up hoodies over your shoulders.

“You look cold, ” he said, “take it, ”

“Thank you, ” you responded, pushing your arms into the sleeves immediately.

It smelled just like him. This was your routine with him for the next three days. On the morning of your fourth day, the rain had stopped. The thing is, neither of you said anything. You just went about your day together like normal. The truth is, you liked it here. You were so much happier with him in his little house than you had ever been anywhere else.

“The rain stopped over a month ago, ” he said one day, “why haven't you left?” that definitely didn't come off the way he wanted it to.

“Oh well, I can leave if you'd like-”

“No. Stay, ” he said, “I want you here,”

He got up and wrapped both pairs of arms around you.

“Stay, ” he whispered.

“I will, ” you said, pushing your face into the crook of his neck.

He held you like that for a while, savoring the feeling of you in his arms. The months flew by. Soon the leaves turned orange and red and fell to the ground. Next, the ground was bright white from the snow, and tulips began to bloom in the spring.

‘Shit,’ Shigaraki thought, ‘its spring’

He'd been feeling strange lately, and after googling his symptoms, he realized he was going into his first heat. He googled many things that night, some disgusted him, and some did quite the opposite.

“Hey y/n, you should probably head back and get your things. You've been here a while, so I'm just assuming you're staying, ” Shigaraki said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I'm alright, ” you smiled, tending to the little garden you'd started, “I've gone into town a few times. I have everything I need, ”

“No, really, I think it would be good, ” he said.

“Shiggy, if you want me to leave, it's ok, ” you said, standing up and stroking his cheek.

He loved when you did that. It always made his wings buzz happily.

“No!” he said, “I don't want you to leave, please stay, ”

You smiled, “I'm not going anywhere, ok? You don't have to be so anxious; I'm staying, ”

He nodded, “I just- um, ”

“Go on, ” you urged, combing your fingers through his hair.

“I um think I'm going into...heat, ” he whispered the last part, “and I don't want you to have to deal with that, ”

“I don't mind, ” you said, “if it's alright with you, I’d like to stay. I'll take care of you, ”

He smiled and wrapped both pairs of arms around you.

“You're amazing, ” he said.

You giggled, “so what even happens during your heat? Do you get sick or something?”

“It’s hard to explain, ” he muttered.

“How am I supposed to take care of you if I don't know what's wrong?” you said, pouting up at him.

He shoved his phone in your hand, “here, ”

You read the screen, eyes widening and cheeks getting hot.

You looked up at him, “so you um, ”

“Yeah, ” he muttered, “as I said, you don't have to stay. I’m serious.”

You took a deep breath, “I want to stay. I want to help you in any way I can, even if it means letting you take my virginity. Truthfully I’d be happy if you did, Tomura, ”

“You would?” he asked, “are you sure?”

You nodded, “I think I've liked you for a while now. Even if you don't feel the same way, I just want you to know that I'm okay with whatever you need to do to me, ” your breath hitched at the last part.

You'd never seen yourself as submissive. You never took shit from anyone. Shigaraki didn't see you as submissive either, even with all the things you’d said. When they mixed with your tone and personality, they sounded caring but not in a submissive sense.

You were dominant, but not in the way he'd always thought of it. You were like...

“Mommy, ” he whispered.

So soft and gentle. Calm and caring but independent and strong.

“Can I call you that? It just feels...right, ” he said.

You nodded, “um sure, ”

“Mommy, ” he sighed, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

You reached up to run your fingers through his hair. Shigaraki groaned quietly.

“About what you said earlier, I like you too, y/n, ” he said.

You smiled and pecked him on the lips. After you pulled away, he pressed his lips to yours again immediately. He grabbed your hair, pulling you closer as you yelped in surprise. He laughed softly, starting to slip his tongue into your mouth. Tomura tried to dominate the kiss to no avail. Instead, he fell victim to the way you were able to move your tongue around in his mouth, leaving almost nothing untouched.

You pulled away, admiring the dark blush on his cheeks. He's so pretty.

“I'm sleepy, mommy, ” he said before yawning.

He picked you up and carried you upstairs. You laughed and kissed him on the cheek. He put you down on the bed and practically laid on top of you. He wrapped his arms around you, letting his wings act as your blanket.

“Goodnight, ” you whispered.

“G’night, mommy, ” he mumbled.

You awoke to something rubbing your thigh.

“Mommy, ” he moaned, “mommy, please. Please, it hurts so bad, mommy, ”

As you became more conscious, you realized that he was humping your thigh. He’d already made a sticky mess in his pants and on your own. You kissed him gently. Letting your soft lips contrast between the rough humping of your leg.

“Want, ” he moaned, “need to mate, mommy. I need to please, ”

“It's alright, sweetie, ” you said, pulling him between your legs.

He began humping your crotch, panting and drooling.

“Mommy, ” he slurred, “I want in. I want in you, ”

His wings had been buzzing violently ever since you agreed. One set of hands cupping your face and the other holding your hips in place as he rubbed his cock on your clothed pussy. You wiggled out of your pants with his help, and he practically ripped off his own pants. He pulled off his boxers and ripped off your panties. He shoved himself into you, nearly screaming at the way your warm wet cunt sucked his cock in. The way you clenched because he was big, so fucking big.

“Mommy, ” he chanted, “mommy, mommy, mommy, ”

He lasted a surprisingly long time, wandering fingers finding your clit. He slammed into you, slapping skin and squelching filled his ears, but all of this was drowned out by his moans and whimpers. Finally, Tomura pushed you over the edge. You clenched and came all around his cock with a loud moan.

“Mommy, ” he sobbed, “breed mommy, I need you to take my cum mommy. I need you to let me breed you and make you all pretty with my kids, ”

“Yes, Tomu, go ahead, sweetie. Breed, mommy, ” you moaned.

He gasped and sobbed as an absurd amount of cum flooded your cunt. It began to ooze out of your cunt around his cock. He collapsed on top of you, panting as his cock softened inside of you. His heat was over. His need to breed you was met. He was exhausted, couldn't move to bathe, only pass out with you safe in his arms.

Over time you did swell up with his kids. He was so excited to start a family, to claim you with his offspring. If you had his kids, you were his, end of story. No one was allowed to look at you or touch you.

‘Mommy’s so pretty when she's bred,’ he thought to himself as he kissed your stomach.

#tomura fluff #tomura smut #tenko smut #tomura x reader #mha tomura #tomura imagine #shigaraki tenko #tomura shiragaki #tomurashigaraki #shigaraki tomura #tomothura #shigamothie #moth shigaraki #moth tomura #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki smut #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader

[angryinternetduck]

Bet On It

HELLO i’m back again with not only another fic but another friends to lovers!!! here’s 5.9k on hotel mishaps, long-term bets, and falling in love. featuring harry styles x reader with just a few warnings of explicit language and alcohol consumption.

enjoy!!!

masterlist | ask

***

Five Years Ago

If you hadn’t met him an hour before in the bar of the hotel, you would’ve said no. Share a hotel room with a stranger just because the hotel fucked up and double booked a room? No. Absolutely not.

Except -

His name was Harry. He was very cute. And sweet. He complimented your shoes in the bar, dimpling at you all cutely before holding out his hand and introducing himself. He let you prattle on for way too long, laughing at all your jokes and nodding gravely when you started getting serious.

And surprisingly, when you said you had to go, he didn’t ask you out or try to kiss you. He just told you it was nice to meet you with a smile. Problem was that that wasn’t the last you saw of him; when you went up to the desk to get your key card, the receptionist informed you of the mistake.

“We’ve double booked it. You’ll have to work it out amongst yourselves,” they said. “We can suggest other places to stay, or you can sleep in the lobby. Or - of course, you can always share. He’s over there. Guy in the pink shirt.”

You looked over, and lo and behold…

“Harry.”

“We meet again.”

“Was this your doing?” you joked. “All that to get me in a room with you?”

Harry grinned. “I wish I were that smart.”

“So just coincidence?”

“Or perhaps fate,” Harry replied with a shrug.

“Did you know?” you asked. “When you, uh - introduced yourself?”

He shook his head and said, “Not that it was you.”

“Well, now that you do, what do you say? Share the room?”

Harry tilted his head from side to side, pondering. “Let’s prove it was fate,” he decided, meeting your gaze with a grin. Your brows furrowed, and he clarified. “Rock, paper, scissors. I win, we’ll share. You win, I’ll find somewhere else to stay.” He held out his fist.

“Won’t make me find somewhere else?” you asked, smiling a bit. “Would rather share?”

He shrugged.

“Alright, then.”

Both of you counted silently, in your heads -

Rock, paper, scissors…

Harry grinned, and you made a fist from your scissors to bump his rock.

“Fate it is,” you said.

Fate proved to be in your favor; that night, you had the most fun you’d ever had in your life. To your surprise, however, the fun didn’t involve sex. Just talking. You sat on the bed drinking booze from the minifridge and talking until dawn with this Harry Styles.

It came up at one point, sex - or at least kissing did - but neither ever happened.

It was around three, when the exhaustion had set in, when you were lying down, gazing into each other’s eyes, half asleep. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” he’d whispered, and you grinned at him. “I should be asking you that, don’t you think?”

He looked confused. “Why’s that?”

“You’re the one in love with me,” you told him.

He giggled, rubbing his eyes. “And what makes you say that?”

“You wanted to share!” you exclaimed, like it was obvious, because it was.

“Sharing is caring.”

You bounced your brows. “Caring. Loving.”

Harry laughed and insisted, “Not the same!”

“I’d bet a million bucks you’re in love with me,” you murmured, tapping his nose.

“Then a million bucks you’d lose.”

“You will be,” you said, nodding slightly.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, a smile growing on his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a million bucks to give me on my deathbed when I still only care?” he said.

“Do you have a million bucks to give me when you confess?” you said back.

He stared at you for a second. His eyes were very green, his smile very wistful. “A kiss.”

“A kiss?” you echoed.

Harry nodded. “I will bet you one kiss that I will never fall in love with you.”

“You’re gonna want a lot more than one kiss when you inevitably do,” you whispered.

“At least one kiss,” he amended.

“At least one kiss,” you agreed.

“Shake on it?”

You both shifted around in the bed so you could shake hands without sitting up.

“It’s a bet,” Harry said.

And so it was.

***

Present Day

“Give it to me straight, Styles,” you greet Harry, plopping down at your table with a sigh.

He hesitates for a moment, drawing out the suspense, and then breathes, “Care.”

You shake your head disappointedly. “Unbelievable, how bad you are at lying, you -”

Harry interrupts, “What’s really unbelievable is your tardiness -”

Then you do: “Your annoyingness -”

He pouts and fires back, “Your vocabulary -”

“Your lack thereof -”

“That’s not proper English.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “You’re not proper English.”

“I promise you I am,” he replies with a smirk.

“I’ve always thought the accent was fake.”

“If it were, I’d be the greatest impersonator to walk the earth.”

“Impersonator?” you repeat. “And tell me, what is an impersonator but a talented liar?”

He gives you a grin. “I’ll take the compliment of talented, thank you.”

Leveling his gaze, you smile back and take a sip of your drink. “You know, I think that actually was proper English,” you muse. “Lack thereof. Your vocabulary - or lack thereof.” Harry bites his lip, eyes narrowed, staring at you, and you’re tempted to joke that his focus is lust when he replies, “It’s still wrong. I was saying your vocabulary is naive, and by saying I have none, you’re fundamentally saying the same. It’s redundant.”

Clearly satisfied with himself, he sits back, smiles smugly, and takes a sip of his coffee.

“Harry Styles,” you say, “I’m going to smack that smirk right off your pretty face.”

“Second compliment in a day!” Harry exclaims. “Someone alert the press.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your own drink. “Why, they’d have a field day.”

The little cafe you’re in is absolutely adorable. It’s midway between your place and Harry’s, and after that fateful night in the hotel (during which you learned you live so close to each other), you began a tradition of meeting here once a week.

Tradition doesn’t end with just the location and time. Each meeting is almost exactly the same. You’re always late, and you always greet him the same way: some variation of “Have you fallen in love with me yet?”

And his reply is always the same: negative.

From there, the conversation wanders as much as it ever does, with one asking about the other’s week and the response being long and filled with complaints and woes and lamentations. The question is echoed back, and the response is - again - long, filled with complaints, woes, etc.

Despite the moaning and groaning, the mood never falls too low. It’s impossible to feel down around Harry Styles; just one look at those dimples makes a smile of your own appear on your face.

Your friendship with him has certainly blossomed. It’s a wonder he hasn’t fallen in love yet (or maybe he has, you’ll never know unless he says), and a greater wonder still that he hasn’t turned the question around on you.

Because the answer would be yes. You have, in fact, fallen in love with him.

Deeply, madly, in love.

But he’ll never know, because you’ll never say.

***

“I love you,” you tell Harry breathlessly, looking up at him lovingly. “Most ardently.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, no - I’m just a girl! I’m just a girl, standing in front of -”

“I’ll always be there for you!” you cut in excitedly. “All the love in my heart, Llo -”

“Michael, I love you!” Harry gushes. “Choose me, marry me, let me make you happy!”

You jump up and jut a finger at him dramatically. “We live in a cynical world!” you exclaim. “A cynical world, and we work in a business of tough competitors. I love you! You - you complete me!”

Harry jumps up to match you and begins, “I hate that -” then shakes his head and restarts, “I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie - I hate it when you make me laugh and - and - and even worse when you make me cry - I hate the way - I hate it when” - he’s grinning big now, jumping with excitement and passion - “you’re not around and the fact you didn’t call - but - but mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even a little bit, not even at all!”

It all came out in a rush of jumbled words and you’re so impressed you can’t help but sit back down and clap for him. Bright red, Harry takes a bow and collapses onto his couch next to you. “That took way too much effort,” he says, out of breath.

“It was worth it,” you tell him. “That was dazzling, really. You should go on the road.”

Harry nods. “One man show. Shakespeare. All of his long monologues, then bam - a poem better than all the others combined.” You giggle and fall into him, leaning against his chest with a sigh. “I’ll come with you,” you say. “Follow you to the ends of the earth and hold my breath to Pluto.”

“What’s that from?” Harry asks.

“That’s all me, baby.”

“Maybe the poem better than all the others combined could be yours.”

“Impossible,” you say immediately. “Nothing will ever beat Kat Stratford.”

“I’ll manage.”

You scoff. “You?”

“We.”

You shake your head. “There’s no ‘we’ in genius, Styles, but there is an I.”

“And a U!” Harry replies.

You look up at him.

“Wait.”

Snickering, you sit up and stretch your arms towards the ceiling. “Stick to memorization, maybe. Leave the heavy lifting to me. You need some practice on that speech, anyway - I counted at least three errors, not to mention the stuttering.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Harry sings. “What do you say, can I confess my love to you every night for the sake of practice?” You shake your head, standing up again and grabbing an empty container of food to throw away. “Not without losing the bet.”

Harry follows you, cleaning up as he goes. “Just for the one man show!”

“No exceptions.” You grin at him, grabbing your stuff and heading for the door. “Thanks for the food, Styles. I’ll see you Sunday?” Harry nods and blows you a kiss, which you catch and put in your pocket. “I’ll save that for when you lose the bet,” you tell him.

“Get outta here,” Harry laughs.

You stick your tongue out at him and stick a post it note on the door frame as you leave.

***

Harry usually wakes up to a few texts. Maybe a call every so often. Notifications from social media aren’t uncommon. The only days he wakes up to nearly a hundred texts are the nights you decide to go to the outlook.

Whether or not you like staying up late normally, you stay up until the wee hours of the morning to go to this place you found about three hours outside of the city. It’s a bit of a drive, but it’s completely worth it.

There’s a little woods out there, and a while ago you went a bit off path and found an outcropping of rocks that look out over the city. At night, stars are visible. There’s nothing you love more than lying for hours on the cool stone, gazing up at the heavens above.

The first time you took Harry to the outlook, you asked a question, and Harry’s answer to that question was one of the only lies he’s ever told you. You’d asked, “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

And Harry had said, “Of course not!” when in reality, he’d been looking for an opening to mention that very fear for the twenty minutes before, while you’d been climbing steadily uphill through the trees.

In his defense, there was no way he could’ve said anything different. You were just so happy, glowing with excitement and practically buzzing with energy. Plus, you’d grabbed his hand at the moment you asked to pull him up the last ridge and he was still a bit startled.

He never came to regret that lie. He grew out of the fear, anyway, so it wasn’t a huge deal. In fact, he’s almost come to love heights. He loves the thrill, the burst of happiness, the insane phenomenon of a racing heart and the feeling of being totally at peace all at the same time.

Incidentally, he also feels that way around you, whether the two of you are a hundred feet up or not. He’s always enjoyed spending time with you, and even just seeing you makes him happy. It’s what makes you a good friend.

Harry’s gone with you a few times to the outlook, but it’s usually pretty late by the time you want to go. Sometimes you’ll call him and he’ll pick up, and you’ll talk on the phone until one of you falls asleep.

You went last night, apparently, because Harry scrolls through seventy-two text messages this morning. It takes a while, since he reads all of them and then replies, but he woke up early anyway so it’s fine.

It’s Sunday, so he’s headed to the cafe to meet you. He has a cup of coffee even though he’ll get one at the cafe, too. There’s a sticky note on the coffee maker - Note to self: tell Harry there’s a snickers bar in his sweatshirt pocket - which you probably left a few days ago.

Harry smiles at the note, then frowns, sticking his hand in his pocket. There is, in fact, a Snickers bar in there, and Harry throws it out. It’s from almost a month ago, when you and him had an August Halloween. The sun is just a little too bright. Harry listens to music in the car, humming along and tapping his hands against the wheel in time.

You’re late, of course, so he orders his second cup of coffee and reads a newspaper on the shelf while he waits. Today it’s five minutes until you arrive, which is actually more on time than usual, and Harry throws you a large brimmed hat he found in his closet when you approach the table.

“What say you, Harry Styles,” you greet him, catching the hat and placing it on your head. “Make a jester laugh” - you form a heart with your fingers - “or make a jester cry?” Your heart cracks in two as you pout at him.

Breaking a finger-heart of his own, Harry grins. “Laughing clowns were always creepier to me,” he tells you. You trace a finger down your cheek like a tear and sit down across from him, sliding a menu from its place on the wall and beginning to read it over.

You look up at him, half smiling, a joke on your lips, and then -

Harry blinks.

Just like that, something’s changed.

You snap in front of his face. “Hello? Anything? You could at least pretend to laugh.”

“Christ, sorry,” Harry breathes. “What’d you say?”

Raising a brow, you lean forward and inspect him. “You alright, there, Styles?”

“If I were any better and it’d be obscene,” Harry answers easily, tapping your nose.

Grinning, you sit back. “Fantastic. Tell me, then, how it’s been. Fill me in.”

“It’s a lot better seeing you in that hat.”

“Oh, I forgot!” you exclaim, looking up at it.

Harry giggles and asks, “You wanna know what one hat said to the other?”

“Oh, boy.”

“I’ll see you on a-head!”

Groaning dramatically, you throw the hat at him and bury your face in your hands.

***

"This is getting embarrassing, Styles,” you say as you walk up to Harry.

He turns around, a smile already on his face, and begins, “What’s -”

He stops when he sees you, because you’re all dressed up. You look absolutely stunning, which was on purpose, because of course you want to see his reaction, whether he loves you or not. And it’s very satisfactory, this reaction.

“You look fantastic,” Harry says softly.

You clear your throat, a little put off by how serious he’s being. “That was the goal.”

His eyes float back up to meet yours, a small smile on his face. “Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” you chirp. “But don’t let your head get too big - I only came for the free food and movie.” Finally, the glaze over his eyes fades, and he grins at you. He takes your arm, and as you walk, he asks, “You started a thought, you know, about something embarrass-”

You scoff. “You asked me on a date, Styles!”

“I did not!” Harry insists. He shakes his head. “My date ducked out at the last second -”

Smirking, you cut in, “Wonder why, Mr. Pink Suit.”

“- we were going to match, thank you - but really, she ducked out, and I wasn’t about to waste two perfectly good tickets. Thus… here we are.” He nods, like he’s pleased with his answer, but you raise a brow at him. “That’s a terrible excuse. You can just say you love me. I’ll accept.”

You arrive at his car. “Not yet,” he says, and then he gets in.

He starts the car, and for a moment, you gaze out the window.

Then, breaking the silence, you say, “I like the suit.”

“I like the look.”

“Thanks, I came up with it all by myself.”

“Impressive.”

You wait a moment, and then ask, “What inspired the pink?”

“She said she wanted a pink rose.”

Frowning, you begin, “I thought you said pink roses are -”

“Yeah, they’re not my favorite,” he mumbles.

You snicker a little. “Oh, what a bad date in high school can get you…”

“Hey, don’t tease,” Harry whines with a pout.

“Sorry, sorry,” you murmur. “You’re nice to dress up anyway. No rose, though?”

Sheepishly, he tells you, “I… forgot.”

“You forgot?” you laugh.

“Yeah…”

“Well, um… well, it’s the thought that counts.”

Harry pulls into the parking lot and parks the car, then unlocks the doors. “Come on,” he says, but you frown at him, confused. “You know you pulled in the wrong way?” you ask, but he just beckons with his hand and opens the trunk.

You hadn’t even looked - there’s pillows back there, and candy, and blankets, and he flicks on little fairy lights. “Harry Styles, you romantic!” you gasp, enthralled. “Wow, I gotta meet this girl, if you’re doing all this for her…”

He sits down and pats the space next to him, then grabs a pack of candy - your favorite. He hands it to you, which you take with a slow smile. “Her favorite too?” you ask. “Nope,” Harry replies, shaking his head as he opens his own pack of candy. “Forgot to ask her, but when I called her in the store she wouldn’t pick up so I just… got yours.” He clears his throat and hands you a bag of popcorn. “There’s this, too.”

“Thanks, Styles.”

On the huge screen in front of you, the movie begins to roll. You take a risk, sliding a little on the seat so you’re leaning against Harry, head against his chest. You can feel him breathing, his heart beating, his arm around your waist, thumb gently moving back and forth over the fabric of your clothes.

You fall asleep for most of the movie.

When you wake up, you’re leaned against a pillow, not Harry. Frowning and out of sorts, you sit up and rub your eyes. He’s leaned against the car outside, on the phone, and you can just barely make out what he’s saying.

“... I know, it’s… Yeah, I - I’m sorry you couldn’t make it, love. I missed you…”

The familiar feeling of tears building behind your eyes horrifies you, and you have to turn your back to him as tears start slipping down your cheeks. You’d somehow managed to convince yourself that it was all a ruse, that he’d meant it to be you from the start, that there was no other girl, that all along it was -

“Hey,” Harry says.

You cough, palming away the tears on your face and yawning like you’d just woken up. “Oh, hey… How’s, um - how’s she doing? Or - whoever - I mean -” You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“She’s fine,” Harry tells you. “How are you? Took a pretty long nap there…”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “I was… I’m tired.”

“C’mon, then, let’s get you home.” He smiles at you, dimpling adorably, and holds out his hand. You take it and slide off the back of his car. “Thanks,” you say. He nods and shuts the trunk while you get into the passenger seat.

You don’t say anything as he starts the car, as he backs out and heads for your place. He glances over at you, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, and eventually turns on the radio. You fold up a sticky note and covertly slide it into the center console.

“I’ll see you Sunday,” you tell him when he stops the car.

He nods. “See you then.”

You hold his gaze for a second, and then get out of the car. As you’re shutting the door, Harry says, “Hey!” and you stop. “Hey, er - thank you. For coming tonight. I know it was a little… It was a bit much.”

“Not too much at all,” you say softly. “Bye, Harry.”

You shut the door.

***

The sticky note business began about a year after Harry met you. He’d mentioned something about refrigerator magnets being the most charming form of communication ever invented, and the next day he found a sticky note on his mirror that said, Note to self: find a more charming form of communication than refrigerator magnets.

Harry doesn’t find the sticky note in his console until the next night, when he’s driving home after working late and he’s trying to find his phone. It’s ringing, and it’s your ringtone, which is really, really annoying because you set it to the worst song you could think of so he’d be motivated to pick it up fast.

It’s not in the center console. It’s actually in his pocket. He picks it up.

“Harry, you gotta tell me now,” you say immediately. “Do you love me?”

“I -”

“Love or care, Styles.” You sound breathless. “L or C. Lover or Cunt. Tell me now.”

“Cunt,” Harry says reflexively, and then shakes his head. “I mean -”

“You don’t love me.” You don’t sound upset at all. You’re just clarifying.

Harry frowns. “I… What’s going on?”

“Well, I think I love this guy, Styles, and I’m about to fuck him, so I’ll talk to you later.”

And then you hang up.

Harry stares at his phone for a moment. Then he puts it down, frowning at the street in front of him, and thinks for a while until he gets home. When he does, he’s shutting the center console, which he’d left open, and he sees the little post it note.

Note to self: buy a pink rose for h to make him like them bc they’re pretty

Sitting in his car, staring at the note, Harry can’t help but think he’s messed it all up.

***

Sunday. You don’t show up.

***

Another Sunday. Harry orders a coffee and reads the newspaper.

You don’t show up.

***

You answer a text.

He asks if you’re okay, and you say, Yup!

***

You send a text.

Hey, Styles? Can you bring me a flower?

***

He should’ve gone to your place first, Harry’s thinking. He should’ve checked there, and then gone here. But it’s too late now. He’s stepping out of his car, trekking through the forest, and he’s finally here, and -

You’re on your back, staring at the stars.

“You know, I really thought he was the one.”

Harry bites on his lip and fiddles with the flower in his hands. “Did you?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then you sigh and sit up. “No.”

“He didn’t - you’re not… You’re okay, right?”

“Nothing’s broken but my heart,” you murmur. “Physically, I’m fine, emotionally, I’m…”

You fade off, and Harry sits next to you and hands you the flower.

“Yellow,” you whisper. You look up at him, eyes wide in the moonlight. “Why yellow?”

“Color of your shirt the first time I met you.”

Smiling, you murmur, “Memory of an elephant.”

“I couldn’t remember her favorite candy,” Harry says impulsively. He shuts his eyes, exhaling softly. “Sorry. Wrong thing to say.” You shake your head, looking forward again. “It’s fine. How’s she doing?”

“Wouldn’t know.”

Surprised, you glance at him again. “You mean you -?”

Harry shrugs. “She said my priorities weren’t right. Then she said goodbye.”

“We’re just a coupla broken hearted fools, aren’t we?” you say quietly.

“Broken hearted, yes,” Harry replies, “but I’m not a fool. Don’t know about you.”

You scoff, hitting his chest with the back of your hand. “We’re having a moment here!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry says, but he’s laughing so the apology is moot.

There’s a beat of silence, and then you say, “I would’ve known about her if I hadn’t missed all our Sundays. I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Did you have fun, at least? With Mr. Heartbreak?”

You giggle. “So much fun.”

“Well… that’s good, at least.”

He looks at you, really looks, and for a moment, he forgets himself.

You’re looking up at the stars, your head tilted up, your lips curved upwards in a smile.

Harry’s expression matches yours. It’s one of quiet awe, of happiness and joy and adoration. He’s smiling, too, but it’s not as conscious. It’s more reflexive, something he can’t help but do whenever he catches sight of this view. He’s not looking at the stars, though - his gaze is focused on you.

“Come on!” you exclaim suddenly, jumping up. “This is the perfect excuse to watch The Notebook again.” Harry blinks, standing up and following you back to his car. “You took the words right out of my mouth,” he says.

***

Ideally, on the anniversary of your meeting Harry, you’d both rent a hotel room and get drunk on the minibar, talking nonsense until morning, to properly reenact that first night together. Problem with that is that hotel rooms cost money.

So instead, you have a sleepover. Last year it was at your place, so this year it’s at his. The good thing about not being in a hotel is that you can buy normal size bottles of booze, rather than the teeny ones from the minibar.

He’s grabbing everything from the kitchen while you’re queueing up the movie on the TV in his room. It’s not cooperating, though, and you’re rooting through all the wires in the back to try and find something that’s supposed to be connected.

“Harry, if you don’t get in here this second!” you shout at him.

“Did you get the other remote?” he shouts back.

You groan and whine, “Just come in here!”

“I haven’t gotten everything yet! Look for the second remote. It’s in one of the drawers.”

“Which drawers?” you yell.

He doesn’t reply.

So you ruffle through the drawers closest to the TV. Books, papers, chargers. No remotes. You go further and find his record collection. A few photo albums. You stick a sticky note on the top one that says, Note to self: go through these. There’s more books. A few DVDs.

And then - a folder. It has a yellow flower on it.

Frowning, you glance at the door behind you and then flip it open. What must be a hundred post it notes fall out. Your jaw drops, just slightly, because they’re all from you. Every sticky note you’ve ever left him is in this folder. He kept them all.

“Did you find it?” Harry shouts.

You ask, “Find what?” but your voice is too soft and he doesn’t hear you.

He shouts your name again, and you quickly shove the folder back where you got it. You clear your throat, then yell, “Harry, I can’t find it!” Finally, he comes in, arms full of food and drink, and tugs open the top drawer on his bedside table with his foot.

And there it is.

“Have I got to do everything around here or what?” he jokes.

You give him a laugh and set up the TV, which works just fine now that you have the right tools. Harry sets everything down and puts his hands on his hips, raising a brow at you. “You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, fine,” you tell him. “Just grew a few white hairs waiting for you to come back.”

He sticks his tongue out and tosses a bag of chips at you. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

Finally, the movie’s set up, and you lean against his bed, sighing in contentment as the opening credits start to play. Harry hands you a glass and holds his own out, which you knock against your own. “Cheers, Styles,” you say. “To five years.”

“And counting.”

Grinning, you drink up and then settle back to watch the film.

***

His voice is thick.

Like honey.

It drips off his tongue, catches on his lips, slides down the column of his throat and glistens in the dim light. It’s rich. Deep. It turns to crystal in the cool air around you as his words fade off. You want to reach out and feel it on your fingers, want to taste it on your tongue, want to feel it slide over your lips, down your throat…

“... and then, suddenly, I was flying out the window with the worst pain I’ve ever -”

“Harry,” you interrupt with a giggle, “this is the third time you’ve told this story tonight.”

“It’s a good story!”

“Lemme see,” you say, crawling forward, and you’re on his lap now but you can’t really bring yourself to care because this is for scientific purposes. Harry grins and puts his hands on your waist and you giggle again and put your fingers on his jaw. “Lemme see your tongue.”

“Wanna see it or touch it?”

You smirk and reply, “How ‘bout lick it?”

“That’s gross!” Harry exclaims with a delighted laugh.

“I know!” you exclaim back, equally delighted.

“It’s broken,” Harry says, but he’s opening his mouth so it comes out all warbled. “I’m broken, you know -” You peer at his tongue, but it doesn’t look very broken. “No, you’re not,” you tell him.

“On the inside,” Harry says, pouting at you.

You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, nestling your head on his shoulder in a hug. “You’re warm,” you say, “that’s what you are.” Harry nods against you, running his hands up and down your back. “You fix me,” he slurs into your neck.

“That’s so romantic!” you giggle.

You sit there for a second, breathing him in, feeling happy, and then suddenly -

“I’m roasting,” Harry says, and it’s morning.

“I’m so hot,” you groan, “and my head hurts so bad…”

Harry grunts and pushes against you. “Get off me.”

You open your eyes, squinting in the sunlight, and fall off of him and onto the floor.

He stands up, moaning and groaning, and walks out. You may have fallen asleep again because when he comes back in and hands you a glass of water and some medicine you’re blinking back awake. “Thanks,” you mumble, downing both.

“That was something,” Harry says.

“Something for sure,” you say.

“I can’t move,” Harry says.

“Me neither.”

So you don’t. The day drags on, and when you’re both coherent enough for food you go to the kitchen. Harry cooks something up, and you eat it, sitting next to him at the kitchen island. You feel his foot against yours, and you play a half-delirious game of footsie as you finish eating.

Once you’re all done, Harry stands up and starts to wash the dishes. You watch him, watch his back and his arms and the way he moves, and stand up and stand next to him, grabbing a dish towel and holding out your hand. He hands you the plate, and you dry it.

It’s comfortable, the silence, and it’s more than peaceful, standing there drying dishes with Harry in the early afternoon. There aren’t many dishes, but you both take your time, and eventually he breaks the silence and the productivity to put on some music.

And then, suddenly, you’re dancing, a smile on your face that you can’t seem to get rid of curving your lips as you float around the kitchen with him. He’s bopping along to the song, hand in yours, dish towel over his shoulder after he stole it from you.

The dancing carries you to the living room, where he twirls you out so you can collapse onto the couch. He does the same, and you put your feet on his lap, head on the armrest, looking at him.

“You’re staring,” he says.

“You’re in front of me.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

You raise a brow, smiling and still holding his gaze, and then sit up. “Staring contest, go.”

Instantly, he blinks, and you laugh, “Fuck’s sake.”

“No, no, again,” he demands, grinning, and he blinks quickly a few times before declaring, “Go.” The staring begins. Your eyes begin to sting, and you bite your lip, trying to keep your eyes open.

“We should watch Bird Box,” Harry whispers.

“Saw it last week.”

“I saw it,” he corrects. “You hid behind your hands the entire time.”

“You were the one screaming like a baby.”

“I prefer rom-coms, you know that.”

“Sometimes you need a little variety in life.”

“I lost the bet.”

You blink.

“Victory,” Harry says, a bit weakly, blinking too.

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“Victory,” Harry repeats, smiling sheepishly.

“No, no, before that,” you insist, shaking your head.

“I lost the bet,” Harry repeats softly.

You swallow thickly. “What bet?”

Harry bites his lip, concentrating, and then stands up and walks away. You scoff, following him, and ask again. “What bet?” He shakes his head, quiet, and opens his refrigerator, looking for something.

“Harry, for the love of -”

He holds out a kiss. A chocolate kiss.

Your eyes widen.

He steps closer, holding the kiss out on his palm. “I lost the bet,” he says. “I fell in love with you.” Your breath catches in your throat. “I don’t know if you feel the same,” he goes on, “so I… I don’t want to kiss you. I mean - I do, but -”

He holds the kiss closer to you. “I lost,” he finishes quietly.

You can’t find the right words.

So instead, you close the distance and kiss him.

The chocolate kiss falls to the floor, and fireworks erupt behind your eyelids.

After a moment, the words come.

And then, when you pull away for a moment, you both speak at the same time -

“I love you.”

Laughter bubbles from your lips, and Harry grins, kissing you again.

“So I guess I didn’t lose after all,” he murmurs.

You smile against his lips. “Let’s call it a tie.”

***

AHHHH there it is!!!! i actually did write this in like . two days . which was ! great haha but i hope u liked it!!!! if u did, feedback and a reblog would be much appreciated 💜

thanks for reading!

masterlist | ask

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles

[theunholygrails]

Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

#percy jackson smut #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson #logan lerman smut #logan lerman fanfiction

[eideticmemory]

DOWN THE HALL | SPENCER REID

Spencer lives down the hall, and likes to spend more time dicking you down than telling you the important things.

Word Count: 4k.

Warning: Sex w/ S2 Spencer.

207.

Not very far from 210, where not two months ago, you settled down in the heart of DC. You first met him when he was coming up the steps, and like an awkward television moment. Your eyes met, you went still, stunned from any movement, your key stuck in the lock of your door.

And although he felt it too, the connection, the attraction, the momentary pause in time. He didn’t react. He stopped, he saw, he kept walking. All the way to unit 207, where he’d lived for over a year.

In your wildest dreams, he would give you just a second of his time. He was like a blur. Never there. Gone in an instant, constantly moving. He often came home late at night, sometimes two, three in the morning.

Tonight, he came home at midnight. He pounded on your door exactly thirty-seven minutes after the hour. You weren’t asleep by any means, but you were comfortable in your bed. Completely surrounded by bliss and safety, suddenly pulled to fear by the sudden knock.

You answered the door in your pajamas, a lamp in the grasp of your hand, prepared to defend yourself in the most ridiculous way possible. You dropped it to the ground when you saw him.

“Hi.”

“Hi . . . [y/n], right?” he greeted, too tired to put on the facade of a bubbly appearance. His sweater vest was clenched in his fist at his side, his tie loosened around his neck, only just revealing his chest underneath.

You, dressed in gray long sleeve and green shorts, tried desperately to hide yourself behind the door. “Yeah,” you murmured.

“Hi, uh, I’m Spencer — Reid. I live in 207,” he told you. A formal introduction.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around.”

“I’ve seen you, too,” he sighed. “Which is why I’m here, listen, [y/n], would you like to come over?”

“I — “ you stuttered, visibly taken aback. “When?”

“Now.”

“Now? Now? I — for all you know, you could be a serial killer or something.”

He let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head, “No, no, I’m not a serial killer . . . the opposite, actually.”

The way you saw it: you could be stupid, and not go with this gorgeous man. Or be stupid, and go with this gorgeous man. There was really one answer. “Okay . . . okay, let me change — “

“What you have on is fine,” he nodded to you, sticking his hands in his pockets as he walked down the hall.

Your jaw dropped just slightly, “Okay.” And you followed him, your socks pressing to the hardwood of the hallway floor.

He closed the door behind you, and it felt final. Locked in. You turned to him, after being distracted by the allure of his apartment, and he was suddenly two feet away from you. You gasped, “Really making me believe you’re a serial killer, dude.”

“Sorry . . . sorry,” he whispered, taking a step back. “I just — didn’t think you’d actually come. Didn’t have a plan.”

“Oh, now you’re shy?”

Spencer cracked a smile.

Finally.

“Bad day?” you asked.

“Bad.”

“Well . . . I don’t know what you’re, usual coping skills are, but um, if this is your very deranged version of a booty call, I accept.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you, “Booty call?” he repeated, not understanding the term in the slightest.

You let out a dry chuckle, “Okay . . . okay, um . . .” You moved in with your hands ready to hold his face in your palms. His skin was warm, red, soft. Just like his lips. His teeth bit down on your bottom lip, in a desperate attempt to keep you close.

You pulled away, his temples between your hands, whispered, “Is that what you wanted?”

And instead of saying a simple ‘yes,’ he pushed his body against yours, pulled you in by your waist and stuck his tongue in your mouth.

It was a heavy mix of attempts to breathe between kisses, you tripping over your feet as Spencer began to kiss your neck, feverishly pushing you to his bedroom. You fell back onto his bed, completely spread open for his to see. To touch. To kiss. To climb on top of.

By sheer luck of his, you weren’t wearing underwear, and it drove him crazy how wet you already were. He pushed your shorts to the side and you melted against his fingers as they pressed to your clit, slid inside of you. He hummed a soft moan against your cheek, using his hips and wrist to push his fingers further inside of you. God, you don’t know how he did it, but your legs were already shaking. You gripped onto the soft material of his shirt, your jaw dropping to release a gasp.

You couldn’t comprehend how his fingers made you feel so full. How they struck in just the right spot, so deep, so much pressure. “Fuck,” you slipped.

“I’m not even doing anything,” Spencer said. Not cocky, not arrogant. Just clueless. It was cute.

“So do something,” you wanted it to be an order. But it came out as a beg.

Either way, he delivered. He curled his fingers inside of you, and you could feel your entire body tense up. He was fast, and aggressive, more than you anticipated. His hands pushed your shirt up over your chest. He took his time, teasing your nipples with his fingertips, blowing on them just to keep them hard before he put his mouth on them. It was all tongue, slimy and sticky and topped off with tight suction.

Tangling your hands in his hair, you release frail whimpers into the air. Your hips moved desperately against his hand, chasing an orgasm that was so close, it was just mean. You called out Spencer’s name, and he responded by railing his fingers into you so hard, your toes curled on impact.

“Oh, God,” you whined.

His mind pieced together the clues like fragments of glass. The heat between your legs, the shuffling of your thighs, your increased in volume, the way you pulled at his clothes, his hair, his skin. You were so close. And he was going to get you there, no need to worry.

His mouth left a wet trail from your breasts to your navel. The palm of his hand pushed your thighs apart, just making enough room for his head. “God, fuck,” his mouth was red hot, and slick. His tongue pressed into just the right spot on your clit, and swiped up with a hard and fast motion. Over, and over, and over.

It was so good. The combination of his long fingers, and quick tongue, and the warmth of his hand holding your tummy down. You pulled and scratched at him in some weak effort to ease the intensity, but he was so good. Where you needed it, he gave it to you. Until the tension in your body became too much to bear, and you came in a tantrums of moans and gasps. Both of his hands grabbed your thighs as they tightened around his face, and his tongue worked on you until every last drop was squeezed out of you.

You went to catch your breath, but his mouth was back on yours. His face was red, and turned a dark crimson when you undid his pants. Your head was heavy, and your vision was still a bit blurry, so you let your hands lead the way. You only looked down when his cock was caught in your hand, hard and big and pulsing for you, aching for you. You kissed Spencer’s neck, your tongue tracing a line down his throat as he reached over to grab a condom. His body was trembling, struggling to hold back from the pleasure.

The condom rolled over him pornographically, contrasting against the fabric of his pants. His belt rang as he pushed himself into you, and it was cold on your stomach. Just beneath the surface, Spencer was filling you up to the brink, and God, did you feel full. His hands were positioned beside your head, each other gripping onto the pillow with all his strength.

Even in the dark, you could see his pupils were dilated to the size of Jupiter, and his teeth dug into his lip as his hips dug into yours. His movements were slow at first, unsure. But as he moved in and out of you, made you squeak and moan, he realized that you liked it. That he was doing a good job, and he better keep it up. So he picked up the pace, a lot. You were taking as much of a beating as the headboard, but your moaning was loud enough to mask the noise. Spencer only gave you primal grunts in your ear, until you hooked your legs around his waist. Then his jaw dropped, and the gates were open.

It was almost musical, the sounds you guys made together. Growing louder when one of you would claw at the other, or bite onto the other’s shoulder just to stay grounded. And Spencer seemed to get more determined with time, placing your ankles on his shoulders, bending you in half just to get as deep inside of you as possible.

He had you in tears almost. So little time, but still so, so close. The pressure was deep, making you whimper with each thrust Spencer delivered without mercy. You held your fingers to the back at his neck, holding him in place with his forehead against yours. You pleaded, with your eyes, your voice, “Keep going, ke--keep going.”

He paused to hold his cock deep inside of you, just long enough to make you cry out, then his fingers found their way to your clit. They were fast, and his hips struggled to keep up. But either way, the pleasure was blinding and weakening. When you came, you gave him all you had. Absolutely all you had. He watched it happen. Watched your face, to make sure he remembered it. And he will remember it.

He’ll remember it as the face that laid there, underneath him, and watched him come undone. Your grunts and groans lined up perfectly with each of his final thrusts, reaching their peak as Spencer breathed out a long and life-sucking orgasm, shaking helplessly against you while he rode it out.

Dazed doesn’t begin to describe it -- the feeling of laying there afterwards. You just laid there, looking at him, thinking:

207.

I’m going to fall in love with the guy in 207 if he keeps fucking me like this.

“Oh . . .” Spencer said, noticing you crawling out of his bed. “You’re welcome to sleep in here, I can . . . I can take the couch.”

You chuckled, “Yeah, yeah, that’s not quite how the whole booty call thing works. But, um, if you want to see me again . . . you know where I live.”

That, he did.

And he was a frequent visitor. For months. You never did pinpoint where he worked, or what he did. His hours were never consistent. Weekends, late nights, even later nights. The poor thing would be so tired. He’d use the very last bit of all of his strength to fuck you, suck you, make you come until you were too worn out to move. Then, he’d just pass out. He once fell asleep in your arms at one in the morning. You touched the bridge of his nose, ran your finger over his swollen lips, felt the sweat on his jaw.

207, you thought.

God, the guy in 207 is beautiful.

The absolute latest -- or, earliest -- encounter you had was at six in the morning. He woke you out of a deep sleep with a phone call. His contact flashed on the screen, only noted with the initials SR, and it was accompanied by his voice, telling you he was at your door. The sun was rising, shining softly on you two through the window. It was the first time Spencer ever fully undressed for you. He was even more beautiful than you’d initially thought, and you were free to touch every inch of him. Feel the way his skin heated up, and watch how it turned red under your touch.

He pinned your hands over your head while you came, kept whispering to you. “It’s okay, [y/n], let it out. Let it go.”

You did. It was the first night you two received a noise complaint. The first time you saw Spencer hunched over in laughter. After your next door neighbor had returned to her apartment.

“This is funny to you?” You asked, but you couldn’t contain your own laughter.

Spencer responded with a cackle. He was bent over, hands on his knees, dying of laughter. Another noise complaint had to be on it’s way. “God,” he laughed. “I’m so tired. I’m so — I’m —“ he was cut off by another fit of giggles. And all you could do was watch, wait.

He choked out his last few chuckles, and stood up straight, breathing in a deep gust of air. “Can I make you breakfast?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, grinning, “You think you should be allow around an open flame right now? Seriously?”

“Come on.”

The sun was in full bloom, bright and illuminating the space in Spencer’s apartment. You sat at his kitchen table, observing him in a trance. His sweatpants were hanging off of his hips, topped with a loose red t-shirt that stuck out against his pale skin. His hair was still disheveled, and covering his face. Standing over two pans of eggs and bacon, the heat caused sweat to bead on his forehead. Every once in a while, he’d turn his head to look at you. Like he knew you weren’t taking your eyes off him. He’d smile, you’d smile back, and watch him as he continued back to his cooking.

207, you thought.

Fuck, I’m falling for the guy in 207.

But that was the last time you saw him.

The last time he called, the last time he came over, the last time you went to his place. It was the last late night booty call Spencer Reid had to offer.

And it made you feel like shit. Shitty, and angry, and so confused. Shitty, because, well, you were no longer getting the dick you were accustomed to. Angry, because what the fuck? And confused, because . . . because you don’t know what you did. Don’t know how he went from looking at you with that soft glimmer in his eyes, to barely looking at you at all.

From fucking you, every night that he could, to having his number deleted from your phone. That didn’t stop you from sleeping beside it every night, hoping, wishing, that it would just ring. That it was just work keeping him from you.

But after three weeks, you finally came to terms with the fact that it probably wasn’t work. Your mind went into overload, imaging all the things it could be, and the one thing that would not leave your brain: It’s another girl. It had to be. It had to be. Because, as much it hurt, it hurt less than thinking he had just forgotten about you.

The night he finally spoke to you again, was the first night you slept properly in weeks. It was a deep sleep, and for once — for once, in a fucking blue moon — you didn’t dream of Spencer.

So, of course he showed up at your door at midnight.

You awoke like you’d been waiting for the sound. In a lot of ways, you had been, but in no way were you prepared for it. You hopped out of bed, rushed to the door so fast that you were sliding in your socks.

“Wow,” Spencer breathed. “So you . . . always look this beautiful when you wake up . . .”

You went to slam the door in his face, but he stopped it with his palm, “[y/n], wait, please —“

You sighed, and pulled the door open, hand on your hip, avoiding eye contact. From the quick glimpse you caught of him, he looked like he hadn’t sleep in almost a month. His eyes lost their light, his skin lost it’s color, his shoulders were slouched in exhaustion. The wrinkled shirt he had one was buttoned unevenly, and his feet were bare.

“I just . . .” he cleared his throat. “I didn’t know who else to go to, I’m sorry.”

You crossed your arms at him, “What’s wrong?” you asked, reluctantly.

“Can you . . . can you just come over?”

“Are you kidding? You ghost me, and expect me to come over and fuck? Are you seri —“

“[y/n].” He interrupted you, his voice stern. It shut you up immediately. “Can you just come over, please.”

The look on his face was full of stress. Aching, longing, tiredness. One month. One month of radio silence, and he thinks you’ll roll out of bed and fuck him?

He’s absolutely right.

The door to his apartment was cracked open, and from the threshold, you could hear the faintest sound. Almost a whine. You stepped in slowly, while Spencer rushed passed you after closing the door. He crossed the apartment, over to his bedroom where he disappeared almost instantly.

And here you thought he was really learning the ropes of the whole booty call thing. You entered the room, with your head hung low, ready to slide into his bed.

“How are you? Does your head still hurt?” he whispered.

Confused, thinking he was talking to you, you lifted your head up, stopped in your tracks. The little girl laying in Spencer’s bed was curled up into a ball, looking at him with a face of pure pain. Their faces mirrored one another’s, in an eerie way. The sadness, the exhaustion, they portrayed their emotions the exact same way.

She gave him a nod, and like she’d been waiting for Spencer to return, she broke into tears. Tears, and loud wails, and writhing around as she coddled her forehead. Spencer held her against his chest, rocking her in an attempt to soothe her. He turned to you, his eyes saying one word: Help.

You were frozen, yet somehow able to move your feet. You took a seat beside the little girl, looked at her, then Spencer, her, then Spencer. Her.

“Cassie, this is my friend, [y/n],” he told her. But Cassie only cried louder.

Her cries were unbearable, sad. You sighed to yourself, looked at Spencer until he gave you a nod.You reached in slowly to pressed your palm to Cassie’s forehead.

“Oh, goodness, honey, you’re burning up,” you said. Giving Spencer one last look, you asked, “May I?”

Spencer said a quiet “yes,” before handing Cassie over you. The little one rested her head on your shoulder, as you cradled her in your arms.

You rose to your feet, and carried her to Spencer’s bathroom, where you immediately cut on the shower. The rush of water was barely loud enough to drown out her cries. You began to undress her, removing her pajamas.

“Do you have any children’s tylenol?” you asked Spencer as you sat Cassie in the tub.

“I—i—it’s cooold!” she wailed.

“I know, I know, give me a second,” you told her. “Spencer. Do you have any children’s tylenol?”

“N—no,” he stuttered, struggling to speak while you removed your shorts.

“Get some,” you ordered. You stepped into the tub, and pulled Cassie into your arms. The coldwater soaked your clothes, and coaxed her shaking body.You rested your back against the wall, and allowed her to sob against your chest. Sobbing. But quieter now.

Spencer looked at Cassie, hesistant. “Go,” you nodded to him. “We’ll be okay.”

He exhaled, “You sure?”

“Positive.”

Cassie stayed in your arms for the rest of the night. By the time Spencer returned, she’d let you dress her, brush her hair. And it was you who took her temperature, which had thankfully dropped dramatically since the shower. You gave her a small amount of tylenol, and you both fell asleep with her laying on your chest.

Spencer came to wake you at seven in the morning. He hovered over you, and gently called your name so as to not wake Cassie. You groggily looked down at her, and slid from under her carefully. You made sure she was tucked in before you left the room.

Spencer had a cup of coffee waiting for you. The two of you sipped on mugs, awkwardly standing in the kitchen, in silence. “So . . .” you spoke. “Is she . . .”

“Mine?” he nodded slowly, avoiding your gaze. “Yes.”

You scoffed, set your mug down. “She’s cute.”

“[y/n]—“

“And Cassie. Cute name . . . short for Cassandra?”

He sighed, “Cassiopeia, actually . . . she was, uh, queen in greek mythology. Known for her beauty.”

You almost cracked a smile. “Your doing, I suppose.”

“I may have had a say in it,” he grinned.

“Don’t do that,” you commanded.

“Do what?”

“Look at me, and be all cute, and think that’s going to get you out this. Because it’s not.”

“I’m . . .” he stuttered. “Not trying to get out of anything . . .”

“Well, you should be. All those times you’ve been inside me, and you couldn’t tell me once that you have a kid?”

“It’s complicated . . .”

“No, no! It’s not complicated. It’s four words. A little bit more if you bother to give me an adequate explanation.”

“I don’t owe you an explaination, [y/n].”

You took a step back, “Oh, really? You don’t?”

“No.”

You drew in a deep breath, crossed your arms, and exhaled as you stared at the floor. “Bye, Spencer.”

You turned around, and headed for the front door, the sound of his voice drawing you back in. “What do you want from me?” He shouted. You’d never so much as heard him curse, let alone raise his voice. You turned to him, your jaw dropped.

“What do you want, [y/n]?” he continued, now taking small steps towards you as he spoke. “Hm? You want me to tell you the truth? Fine. I was 20 when River and I had Cassie. 20. I had just gotten my doctorate, I wasn’t ready to have a . . . kid. But I love my daughter. Then it . . . came down to moving for work . . . River wouldn’t come with me, so I left.”

“You left?” You repeated.

He nodded, “I did. Not without a . . . nasty, non-legal custody battle first. Because of my job, I — I couldn’t get Cassie. I couldn’t give her what she needed. Which is why when my . . . crazy, ex-girlfriend showed up a month ago and dropped her off, said she was my responsibility now, I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t . . . even take care of her when she had a migraine.”

Your face had visibly softened at his change of tone. The hint of sadness that carried in his voice. “I’m sorry,” you said. “That you went through that, I’m sorry . . . but that doesn’t change the fact that I should’ve gotten this information a bit sooner—“

“Why?” he snapped. “Why, [y/n]? Because we were having sex? I owed you my entire life story because we were having sex?”

The gust of air that exhaled from your lips was quick and unstoppable. You could hear the hurt. So could Spencer. You nodded, “Guess not.”

You continued to head for the exit, not looking back, not stopping. But when you opened the door, two people were waiting, about to knock on the wood.

“Hi,” the woman said. “Hi . . . oh, we must have the wrong apartment. I’m sorry.”

“Garcia, Garcia, wait,” the man told her, then turned to you. “We’re looking for Spencer Reid, is he here?”

“Yeah, he is. I’m leaving.” You grumbled, pushing past the two of them to rush to your apartment.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” you heard the woman mumbled behind your back.

“Yo, kid,” the man’s voice called. “Where ya’ been? Did you think you could miss two weeks of work and we wouldn’t check on you?”

Oh, good, you thought.

So we’re all finding this out at the same time.

You didn’t leave your place for the rest of the day. The first thing you did was try to watch tv. Then, journaling. Then, yoga. Then, a little online shopping. But when the guy who you began to trust and love has a kid that he’s been hiding for months, brings you into his home to care for her, and then writes you off as a fling, there’s not much that can take your mind off of it.

The only thing that worked was a knock at the door. His knock. You huffed, slammed your hands into the couch cushions, and stood. Marching up to the door, you swung it open with an attitude. “What?” You snapped, enraged. Until you looked down.

“Hi, Miss [y/n]!” Cassie pipped. God, she looked so much like her father.

“Oh, Cassie,” you smiled, bending down to ignore Spencer. “Hi, honey. How are you feeling?”

“Great! I made you something,” she presented you with a piece of paper, graced with a wonderful portrait of a bunny. You smiled as she placed it in your hands.

“Our way of saying thank you, for last night,” Spencer added.

You looked up at him, and gave him a faux smile while you rose to your feet. “Of course. I’m happy to help,” you nodded.

“Would you . . . possibly like to come to the park with us?” his voice cracked. “M—Maybe . . . grab dinner afterwards?”

Now your smile was real.

“Pleeeeease, Miss [y/n], please?” Cassie begged. She leaned in, whispered, “I think daddy thinks you’re pretty.”

You laughed, and the sound mixed in with Spencer’s own laughter. You looked up at him, and there it was: that momentary pause in time. “Sure,” you said to him. Only him. “I’d like that very much.”

Based on this request from @crystalclearwater162: heyy queen! do u mind writing single dad Spencer? But like Spencer from season 1 or 2 and the team doesn’t know he has a kid bc they’ve nvr rly seen him beside work. they only find out bc they show up to his apartment one day after work and see a little girl calling him daddy 🥺🥺.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/reader #mine

[pascalpanic]

so i read this scenario on reddit and i thought it would be a cute and fluffy fic idea if you want to write it :)

one of the Pedro boys (i was thinking frankie or marcus moreno but you can put any one of them that you feel like would fit the story) lands himself in the hospital and the reader visits him often cause they’re friends. they notice that every time they visit, his heart rate monitor speeds up, like not enough to cause alarm but enough to be noticeable, and that’s how she finds out that he likes her and they decide to date (after he gets out of hospital)

Appendicitis (Frankie Morales x f!reader)

Summary: ^^

W/C: 2.4K

Warnings: talk of being ill, vomit, pain, lots of talk of hospitals and that being a major setting, Frankie is a dad, language

A/N: welcome back to Josie’s quest to clean her inbox! This idea was so precious!! I hope you guys like it!!

Frankie is in fucking agony. Never has he felt something as painful as this, never has such pain radiated through his body so intensely that he has no choice but to vomit out his stomach’s contents.

He spends the day at home, occupying his daughter as best he can while he’s in such suffering. He figures that maybe it’s just really bad gas cramping or constipation. Marisol plays quietly, at her daddy’s request, watching her favorite Disney movies on the couch while nuzzled into his side. Frankie has never been so grateful to get her into bed at the end of the day.

After a full day of the pain, and realizing that it wasn’t going away no matter how many painkillers he took, Frankie gave in around midnight. Lying in his bed, skin turning gray and the pain now decisively in his right side, Frankie called you.

After a few rings, you picked up. “Hey, Fish.”

“Hi.” His voice sounds agonized. “How much do you charge for babysitting again?” He asks, the strain clear.

You’re confused, pushing the phone closer to your ear and thinking it might be the distance that makes him sound so odd. “Uh, you’re my friend, so free. You need me to take Mari?” You ask him.

He nods. “Yeah; how much for like a week though? I don’t want to impose though, and-“

His voice sounds terrible. “Frankie. Shut up. A week? What’s wrong? I can take Marisol for as long as you need, but I gotta know what’s going on.”

Frankie is quiet before he grunts softly in pain. “I think my appendix might be fucked up. It hurts like fucking hell. Mari’s asleep, I don’t wanna wake her or anything, but could you-“

You cut him off once more, sitting bolt upright. “I’m on my way over. Do you think you can hang on until I get there? I can drive you to the hospital, or we’ll get one of the boys.”

“That sounds good,” Frankie agrees. “Fuckin’ ambulances are so expensive.”

You chuckle softly. “Hang in there, Fish, okay? I’m gonna call Will, see if he can drive you and I’ll stay with Mari. How’s that?”

Marisol loves you. There’s no better solution in Frankie’s eyes: she behaves better for you than she does for him. She’ll be in good hands, happy for as long as he needs to be in the hospital healing. “Perfect. God, you’re a fucking angel. Don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve better than me,” you snort as you pull on a hoodie and slip on some shoes. “I’m gonna call Will. You got this, Fish. Distract yourself. I’ll send you updates.”

When you arrive at the Morales household, Will’s truck is already in the driveway. He lives closer, so it makes sense. Be quiet and don’t wake Mari, you remember as you slip off your shoes and head up the stairs of Frankie’s home. It’s quiet, unsurprising for this time of night, and you know Mari is a light sleeper. Frankie would never want to wake her at this hour.

Wandering into his room, you find Will standing next to the bed and an incredibly worn-looking Frankie. His skin holds barely any color, his face almost green in nausea. You rush to his side. “Frankie, holy shit,” you exclaim in a loud whisper, taking his hand. “You’re okay?”

“I will be if Miller mans up and gets me out of this bed,” he says, followed by a chuckle with no humor.

Will sighs. He’s wearing pajamas too, looking as exhausted as you are. Frankie groans as he hears Mari’s tiny voice over the baby monitor. “Fuck. You’re staying with her, Will’s bringing me?” He clarifies, looking up at you with bloodshot eyes.

Nodding, you squeeze his hand. “Give me directions quickly and I’ll go get her. You gotta sit up first, Frankie,” you reassure him.

He squeezes your hand back tight and sits up, his face contorting in pain. There’s a flush of redness to his cheeks, and it makes him look more human for a moment until it fades again. “She won’t fall back asleep unless she’s in this bed with you. She needs the attention. Uh, food is in the fridge, you know emergency shit,” he says, with surprising coherence for the pain he’s in.

You nod and ruffle Frankie’s soft bedhead. “Benny- fuck,” you wince, knowing the Miller brothers hate being mixed up. Somehow, even with their distinct personalities, you do it all the time. “Will. Send me updates,” you remind him as you stand. “And you, Francisco,” you murmur and press a kiss to his sweat-beaded forehead, “get some strong pain meds and get better for me and Mari.” You smile softly and walk out of the room.

The room next to Frankie’s is beautiful, a sage green paint and lots of woodland creatures painted on the walls by Frankie’s surprisingly artistic hands. There’s a crib covered by a creamy white canopy and the little girl pokes her head up, tilting to the side in confusion as she sees you.

It’s not fear, of course. Mari loves you, absolutely adores you in fact. She’s just… confused. Her little brain can tell it’s the middle of the night. “Where’s Daddy?” She asks, making uppy arms at you.

You walk over to her crib, picking her up and kissing her head. “Daddy’s got a tummyache, cutie,” you tell her and tickle her tummy gently, making her giggle and bury her tiny face in your chest. “He’s gonna go see the doctor and get it all fixed up, okay? You and I are gonna have so much fun,” you assure her, and she giggles again.

You can hear two sets of feet, slowly moving. “Let’s go give Daddy a kiss goodbye, okay?” Mari nods and rubs her little eyes.

Frankie’s got an arm around Will’s shoulders in the hall, looking absolutely agonized. He smiles a little as he sees you and his baby. “Hey, patita,” he chuckles. He dubbed her duckling from the soft tufts of fluff on her head as a baby. “Be good while I’m gone.”

Mari nods and puts a hand on either side of Frankie’s sweating face, making a little pout and giving him a kiss. “Love you, Daddy,” she says, a yawn overtaking her tiny face.

“Love you too,” he nods and looks up at you. “I owe you.”

“Friends don’t owe each other,” you shake your head. “Now get your a… butt to the hospital, Morales,” you tell him and pat Will on the shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

He nods at you and the two men shuffle along through the house until they can get Frankie into the car and on his way to (hopefully) sedation and a cure.

Yawning again, Mari’s big brown eyes look up at you from where you hold her on your hip. “Snack?” She asks you, pointing towards the kitchen.

Her little voice and tiny, pudgy fingers are too much. “I suppose. Only because we’re having special girls’ time,” you tease and boop her nose. Setting her on the counter, you grab some cubes of cheese and some berries, which you make sure are in small pieces.

Mari’s content to eat her snacks with you, and you can see her growing sleepier again as the plate empties out. “Sleepy?” You ask her, and she nods. “Alright, cutie pie,” you sigh and lift her, holding her to your chest as she wraps her arms around your neck and her legs around your torso. “Do you want me to cuddle with you?” You ask.

She nods. “Gotta snuggle for late sleepies. Daddy says that.”

The words melt your heart. Frankie’s always been so good with her, so warm and skilled and precious. It only makes your crush on the man grow every time his little girl babbles about how much she loves her daddy. “Does he?”

She nods. “Daddy sings for me.”

Frankie singing Marisol to sleep. The idea melts your heart. You need in on that. “What does he sing to you?” You ask. “What’s your favorite song that daddy sings to you?”

She thinks for a moment as you sit on the edge of the bed, allowing her to clamber off your lap and into the cozy king-sized bed. “Rocket Man.” It’s hard to decipher in her baby-talk, but you get it.

“He sings that for you?” You ask as you get under the covers, into the blankets that are still warm from Frankie’s body heat, that smell like his cologne.

Mari snuggles into your chest, and nods softly. “Can you sing Rocket Man?”

“Of course,” you nod and trace little circles into the toddler’s back, singing the Elton John song to her in a soft voice. It doesn’t take long, now that she’s in her daddy’s bed and got a snack, for her to fall asleep. She snores softly, and you follow suit not too long after.

-

It did turn out that Frankie had appendicitis. The doctors weren’t entirely sure what caused it, but you and the Miller brothers rotated your time with Marisol at home and the hospital with Frankie, as his stay was painfully long for such an active man. Santiago video chatted often, but being out of town prevented him from physically seeing Fish.

It took him about a week to recover, and that time was mostly spent napping or watching the television in his room. He’d bullshit with the guys or you when you were around, and he especially loved the time of the afternoon every day where one of you brought Marisol to see him.

Usually it was just you or one of the Millers who stayed in the room with him. The other two either stayed with Marisol or got to stay at home and rest for themselves. It was a lucky day when you and Benny got to both be with Frankie for a while, telling stories and laughing. It was your turn to be off-duty, but all you wanted from your free time was to be with the man.

Your presence has always made Frankie’s heart rate a little faster. It’s always made his palms a little clammy, and his pants a little tighter sometimes. At least now he can attribute it to the pain.

Every time his eyes catch yours, his heart monitor gets a little louder. It’s odd, but you shrug it off. It can’t mean anything. It’s just your Frankie. After an hour or so of spending time with the guys, you run to get fast food for the three of you. While you’re away, you receive a text from Benny.

Benny Boy: you’re fucking with his head, bro

You: what?

Benny Boy: the heart rate monitor is nearly silent right now. every time frankie looks at you it spikes, don’t tell me you haven’t been noticing that

You: do you want nuggets or a burger?

You: thats ridiculous, Benny.

Benny Boy: always nuggets. but seriously, his heart rate is at like 54 right now, he’s just chilling and kind of dozed off. let’s check it when you come back.

You: be prepared for the most boring science experiment ever. also, what dip do you want?

After you receive your bulging bags of food, stuffed from both Benny’s and Frankie’s massive appetites, you return to the hospital.

You: walking in. pulse status?

Benny: 60. he’s a little more awake now.

As you enter the room, Frankie turns to you and grins. “Hey. What did you get?” He asks.

You plop the bags on the small table overhanging Frankie’s bed and grin. “Just your usual order. I know what you like,” you shrug as you unpack the food.

Beep beep beep beep. HR: 77

Smiling at the rate of Frankie’s heart, more than you should really, you sit down back next to Benny and the three of you eat your food. It’s somewhat quiet, the chatter dying as you devour the fast food, savoring the grease and salt.

After everyone is finished, you stand and clean up the garbage, tossing it all away. You sit back down on Frankie’s bedside. “So, macho man. How’s the pain?” You ask, your fingers tracing his good side.

Beep beep beep beep beep. HR: 86

He shrugs. “It hurts like a bitch, and they said it’s gonna keep hurting like a bitch.”

“Poor baby,” you chuckle, cupping the side of his face and kissing his forehead softly.

Beep beep beep beep beep beep. HR: 96

Benny groans and stands. “I’m gonna hit the bathroom.” He smacks your arm as he walks past, as if rubbing in the evidence he’s found. “And then take a walk, I think.”

You’re still seated at Frankie’s side, on the inflatable hospital mattress. “Oh Benjamin,” Frankie rolls his eyes. “Why’d he leave so quick?”

You shrug, though you know the answer. “Who knows? Benny can’t even predict himself,” you chuckle. Frankie’s hand rests over his chest. You slide your hand over his torso and lace your fingers through his until you’re holding it. You can feel his heart thumping steadily against it. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Beep beep beep beep. HR: 104

He smiles. “I’m lucky I have you.”

You sigh softly as you look up at the heart rate monitor again. “I gotta say, you have a really high resting rate,” you say nonchalantly, as if you believe it.

Frankie’s face warms. “I, uh-“

“I’m kidding, Frankie,” you mumble softly to him, smiling a little. “I really like you, and I think that monitor is helping me know you like me too. When you get out of here, can we maybe go on a date some time?”

Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep. HR: 112

Nodding enthusiastically, those floppy curls move with his head. “I would love that,” he tells you with a beaming smile. “God, have you been able to tell all day?” He asks as he looks up at the monitor, his ears burning with heat as he reads the pulse rate. It’s embarrassingly high.

“Yeah,” you finally admit and smile down at him. “But it’s cute. And it makes me feel all warm inside because I finally know you like me too.”

Big brown eyes stare up at you with all of the love in the world. “If I wasn’t wearing a hospital gown, I’d kiss you right now,” he promises. “But that’ll have to wait.”

“Yes it will,” you nod and kiss his forehead again, easing him back against the mattress he’d lifted up from slightly. “Now I’m going to go find Benny, and you slow down that heart rate,” you tease and ruffle his curls.

“I’m not gonna be able to slow it down with you around,” he says with a soft smile, his eyes slipping shut.

-

taglist:

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#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #catfish morales x reader #catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #benny miller #will miller #will ironhead miller

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 22 - Red Right Hand [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood, nightmares.

Word Count: 4000

Summary: Anyone can be a suspect.

When you woke up, the first thing you realized before even opening your eyes was that you weren’t in your bed.

Your bed was softer than this, the sheets were silk and the pillows were fluffier-

Spencer.

You were sleeping in Spencer’s bed, and in all honesty, both he and you were terrible at this break up thing.

You rubbed your eyes and sat up in bed, trying pull yourself together and get rid of the haze of the sleep. Judging by the state of the bed, it was very obvious that Spencer hadn’t slept there and the clattering of plates coming from the kitchen let you know that he was already awake. You yawned, stretching out and kicked off the covers before you quickly made the bed and stepped back to see if it looked good.

Well, it looked acceptable at least.

You shrugged to yourself and stepped out of the room to approach where the noises were coming from, then leaned sideways on the door frame, a smile warming your face when Spencer turned his head to look at you.

“Morning.”

“Hi there,” you said, your voice still raspy because of sleep, “What are you making?”

“Um- I realized I just had coffee and not much of anything else,” Spencer said, “Unless you like leftover Chinese.”

“My favorite breakfast.”

“So grilled cheese sandwich?”

“Oh man, you don’t want to share your leftover Chinese?” you curled your lips, “I guess grilled cheese sandwich could be breakfast too.”

He chuckled and put the sandwiches on the plates, so you grabbed them and went to the living room to sit on the couch, Spencer following you with two cups of coffee.

“Jesus Spencer, you didn’t have to sleep here,” you motioned at the blanket, “You’re taller than the couch.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

You shifted your weight and picked at the toast before nibbling on the piece,

“How did you sleep?” he asked and you chewed on your bite.

“Like a rock,” you said, “I got like four hours, do you know what that is? A miracle.”

He thought for a moment before he walked to the table to pull open a drawer as you grabbed your cigarette package,

“Do you mind if I smoke here?”

“I do actually.”

You looked down at the package in your hand, then put it back into your purse as he walked back to the couch, clearing his throat.

“So I was thinking,” he said, “The um-the next time it gets too much for you, even though I’m on a case away from the city, if you ever need to get away from your place…” he reached out and put what looked to be a spare key to his apartment on the coffee table and you stared at it for a couple of seconds, your heart skipping a beat.

“Professor,” you managed to say when you pulled yourself together and tried to ignore the spark of hope, “I say this with the best intentions, but we really do suck at this whole break up thing.”

“We’re not so bad-“

“We’re literally the worst ex couple I’ve ever seen. You take your key back from your exes, not give them one.”

“But it’s not like that,” he said quickly, “It’s so that you can drop by when I’m not here if you want to.”

You were melting, and he wasn’t even aware of it.

“Spencer…” you tried to stop the smile warming your face and pursed your lips, “I can’t.”

He pulled his brows together, his soft gaze on you almost confused, “Why not?”

You heaved a sigh and reached out to wrap your fingers over the back of his hand, the spark of electricity shooting through your whole system. Your body didn’t care about the break up as much as your mind did, that was clear. Even now, even after everything, even if you knew it was wrong, the only thing you absolutely craved for was to be closer to him, however you could be.

“Trust me,” you said, “The only thing it’ll do is to give me hope, and I can’t have that. Besides, who knows? Yet another friend of Luke’s might disagree with this decision if you ever end up not talking about your ex during the first date.”

He let out a small chuckle, “That’s not happening, you know it as much as I do.”

You scrunched up your nose, “My point about being terrible exes,” you started, but before you could say anything else, your phone started vibrating. You looked around and grabbed it, then took it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Finally!” Mina’s voice reached you, “Why can’t anyone reach you? Mom called you like a hundred times.”

“I was busy.”

“Doing what? Your assistant said you didn’t show up yet.”

“What happened?” you asked back and she heaved a sigh.

“Mom wanted me to ask if you want them to send you a car for tonight.”

“Why would I-“ you started and then it dawned on you and you threw your head back, “Charity auction.”

“The one that we told you like a month ago, and your assistant already put it in your schedule. You know, the whole point of having that is checking it sometimes right?”

“I wanted to erase it from my mind, probably that’s why,” you grumbled.

“Well you’re coming. I’ll actually kill you if you bail on me, we’re all going to be there.”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, whenever we go somewhere like this, mom socializes, you and Kenz hook up in the bathroom, I’m the only one who doesn’t have fun in these things! I’m allowed to-“

“I’m literally running to a meeting on stilettos so I don’t have time to feel sorry for you but I’ll put it in my schedule if you want,” she said, “Unlike you, I check mine. No car then?”

“I’ll drive there myself.”

“Suit yourself. Cry beforehand if you’re going to be in this mood for the whole night, will you? You don’t look good with smudged makeup.”

“Fuck you Mina.”

“Love you too brat!” she sang and hung up, and you huffed out a breath.

“Charity auction?” Spencer asked, “Rossi was talking about that too.”

Your head shot up, “Wait, you will be there?” you asked, the grumpiness leaving you instantly and he shrugged his shoulders.

“A part of the team will. We don’t know yet.”

“I hope they pick you to be there.”

He tilted his head, “Why?”

You bit inside your cheek, still trying to fight the urge to be closer to him before you took a deep breath.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “Maybe I wouldn’t hate tonight that much if you were there.”

                                                 ***

Having breakfast with Spencer was a perfect way to start the day, that was for sure, but you couldn’t say the same for the rest of the day. Much like Mina, you spent the whole day running from meeting to meeting, and by the time you got home to get ready for the night, you were already way too tired.

But as you found out, a good night’s sleep made wonders, so even if you were tired, you weren’t as drowsy as before.

Special thanks to Spencer, for that one.

You did your make up and your hair before getting into the gown and you looked in the mirror, smoothing over the fabric. You turned around to see whether the long skirt looked good at all the angles but then your phone started vibrating on the bed and you grabbed it to answer it.

“Hi Linc,” you put him on speaker as you opened the drawer to pick a necklace, “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to check whether you’re going to pretend you’re sick to get out of it,” he said and you chuckled.

“Good idea, I’ll use it the next time,” you clasped the necklace behind your neck and fixed your hair, “And no. Unfortunately I’ll be there.”

“Come on Y/N, we’ll have fun.”

“I don’t think so.”

“We’ll have alcohol, you like alcohol.”

“That’s the only way I can stand these things,” you murmured, “How about you? Are you sure you haven’t changed your mind about coming?”

“Are you kidding? Watching you sulk is like a hobby of mine at this point, I made my peace with it.”

“I don’t sulk!”

“Yeah you do,” he chuckled, “I’ll see you there okay?”

“Yeah yeah, see you,” you murmured and hung up, then grabbed your coat and left your apartment. You got into your car, turned the music on, and started driving.

It took you almost an hour to get there because of the traffic. You handed your keys to the valet, thanked him and started climbing the marble stairs but as soon as you looked down at your phone you felt someone crashing into you.

“Ugh!” the woman let out a furious breath but still kept talking on the phone, “I said I don’t want them blue, I want them green! What are you, an idiot? I don’t have time for this…”

“Apology not accepted asshole,” you murmured to yourself and kept climbing the stairs.

“Good evening ma’am.”

“Good evening,” you smiled at the man by the door and stepped inside to walk through the huge foyer until you reached the hall. You looked around as soon as you reached the table surrounded by empty chairs and stopped one of the waitresses.

“Excuse me,” you smiled at her, “Hi, is this the table number one?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Thank you,” you said and heaved a sigh as she walked away, “How am I the first one here God damn it?”

You checked the time on your phone before making your way out of the hall and went outside again so that you could smoke a cigarette or two until everyone got there. There was no way you would sit there alone, you already didn’t like this evening and that would make it even worse. You leaned back to one of the pillars, lighting a cigarette and exhaling the smoke up into the dark sky, watching the people entering and leaving the building.

You heaved a sigh after minutes passed and you lit your third cigarette, sending Mina yet another text in all caps but then you heard someone clear their throat so you looked up from your phone and your heart started pacing in your chest, a wide smile pulling at your lips before you could stop it.

“Professor,” you managed to say and Spencer ran a hand through his hair as if he wanted to make sure it looked good, “Well this is a nice surprise. Came to save the damsel in distress?”

He pulled his brows together, “I doubt you fall under that category.”

You scrunched up your nose, “You have a point. I’m probably the big bad wolf in a dress.”

“I mean it’s a pretty dress,” he murmured before stealing a look at you, “You look great. As usual.”

You could feel the happiness filling your system and you giggled.

“Thanks,” you said, “So do you. But hey, that’s not a surprise. The only reason why the FBI is keeping you around is your looks, not your smarts, we all know that.”

That seemed to make him chuckle and you gasped, then reached out to hold his scarf over your dress.

“Spencer look, we match!”

“Look at that, we do-“ he smiled but before he could say anything, you saw Lincoln climbing the stairs. You waved at him and he took a look at you two with a slight frown on his face, then made his way to you.

“Jesus, took you long enough.”

“I know, I had this last minute phone call about work….” he shook his head, “Dr. Reid. You seem to be everywhere nowadays.”

“Seems that way,” Spencer stated curtly and Lincoln turned to you.

“Why are you outside?”

“Because no one at our table showed up yet,” you said, “And you know I hate sitting alone.”

“Ah well, I’m here now so if you want-“

“I think I’ll smoke some more, thanks though,” you told him and a small smile curled Spencer’s lips before he raised his brows, looking at Lincoln who checked his watch.

“It’ll start soon though, just so you know,” he said, “See you inside.”

With that, he walked away from you into the building and Spencer turned to you.

“That was subtle.”

“He’ll be fine,” you said and threw your hands up when you caught the sight of Mina getting closer, “Did you like die or something? Where’s Kenz?”

“On her way, there was something with the babysitter, my meeting took forever!” she said, “I drove here straight from work, is mom going to kill me?”

“No one is here yet.”

“Probably because of the accident.”

You frowned, “What accident?”

“I think there’s some kind of an accident, the traffic is insane,” she eyed Spencer up and down, “Oh great, cute sad giraffe is here too.”

“Mina!” you hissed and Spencer shot you a look as if he was desperately asking for your help, but Mina waved a hand.

“I’ll be inside,” she said and walked inside while you shifted your weight.

“…Cute sad giraffe?” Spencer asked and you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Please ignore her,” you said, “I apologize on her behalf.”

Spencer stared at you, then scoffed a laugh, “Does she hate me or…?”

“She doesn’t hate you as a person, she just hates all my boyfriends as a princip- ex. Ex boyfriends.” You quickly corrected yourself, “She hates my ex boyfriends as a principle.”

“Why?”

“It’s a sister thing. I threatened one of her ex-girlfriends once, so this is what I get.”

“You threatened-“ Spencer started but you waved at Nolan who was climbing the stairs and he frowned at you and Spencer, then approached you.

“Well hello there,” he greeted you two before turning to Spencer, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Nolan, this is Spencer Reid,” you introduced them, “Spencer, Nolan. He’s the love of my mom’s life for some reason.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Nolan said and clicked his tongue “You’re the infamous Dr. Reid then. I’ve heard about you.”

“Nolan,” you murmured warningly but he ignored you.

“Has Y/N mentioned the head of FBI is a good friend of mine?”

“Um- no she hasn’t—”

“Well I’d keep that in mind just in case you happen to make yet another mist—“

“Thank you Nolan!” you said very loudly, “Mina is inside, you could join her if you want- also, have you seen my mother?”

“I came here straight from my house but I sent her a car, she was on her way,” Nolan said as someone by the door called out his name and he heaved a sigh, “Business doesn’t wait, excuse me.”

“Did he just…?” Spencer asked as Nolan got inside and you shook your head fervently.

“No he didn’t.”

“That sounded like a threat.”

“Ignore him as well,” you said, “It’s just uh… You know. Rich people. They have no manners.”

He tilted his head, confused, and you waved at Kenzie who climbed the stairs at full speed and waved at you back, then pressed a hand over her chest at the sight of Spencer and winked at you before rushing inside as well.

“Anyway,” you tried to change the topic, “So I owe you breakfast then. Do you want it before or after my next emotional breakdown?”

He smiled softly, “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Oh you have no idea how much I do,” you murmured, “Do you want to get Honey Cinnamon French toast the next time? It’s full of sugar, you’d like that. Considering your coffee choices.”

His jaw dropped, “It’s not that bad!”

“I took one sip of your coffee one day while we were dating and thought I’d get into sugar coma.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Don’t you have statistics about how it’s bad for you?”

He nodded at the cigarette between your fingers, “Do you want to hear the statistics for that too?”

“You’re on thin ice, professor,” you pointed at him, making him laugh but then both of you turned your heads when you heard your name being called. Your mother looked between you, then smiled and stepped closer.

“Dr. Reid, it’s lovely to see you again,” she said politely, “Y/N honey, why are you outside?”

“Waiting for you,” you stubbed the cigarette, “I was the first to get here.”

“I know, the driver kept going into different roads because-“

“Accident. Yeah, Mina told me.”

“Let’s go inside, it’s about to start,” she said and you looked up at him.

“So I should-“

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I should probably find Luke. It was nice to see you again, Ms Knight.”

“You too Spencer,” she said and linked her arm through yours as you walked inside, “Anything I should know about?”

“We’re just talking, mom.”

She arched a brow, “I don’t know who you got this obliviousness from, but not me,” she said and you turned to look at her.

“Hm?”

“You’d have to be blind not to see the way he looks at you.”

You blinked a couple of times, “The way he looks at me?” you repeated as you approached the table and you took your seat beside Lincoln.

“Had your smoke?” he shot you a look and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Don’t.”

“No really, are you guys sure you broke up? Like, did anyone let him know?”

Kenzie whispered something into Mina’s ear and she smiled, sipping her champagne.

“I’m a better person than you are, so it’s no wonder I have a better friendship with my exes than you do, Linc.”

“Is that what we call batting your eyelashes at your ex nowadays?” he asked and you made a face at him.

“You’re hilarious- should I buy something?” you wondered out loud, “Where’s the catalogue?”

Nolan handed you the tablet and you swiped on the screen.

“Are you buying something?”

“One or two,” Nolan said, “Your mother liked that vase on the page sixteen.”

“I will bid you for that,” your mother joked, making him smile and press a kiss on her cheek, and you downed your champagne before motioning for another.

“How’s your girlfriend?” you murmured to Lincoln and he shrugged his shoulders.

“She’s fine,” he whispered as the auctioneer started talking about the first item, “We had a small argument earlier, but…”

“About what? Did she finally see your real personality?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not taking relationship advice from a girl who’s obviously not over her ex even though she was the one who dumped him-“

“Hey, I’m trying to offer you my infinite wisdom you dickhead,” you whispered, making him chuckle.

“I’ve been working a lot these days, but I have to close this new deal,” he said, “She doesn’t seem to understand that.”

“Why don’t you pay her a visit?”

“Did you miss the part where I said I was working a lot?”

“Lincoln,” you heaved a sigh, “Honestly. If you love this girl, you need to show her that.”

“After I close this deal-“

“No, before you close your deal,” you insisted, “You don’t want to be one of those people who picked wealth over love.”

Lincoln raised his brows, “I guess we know what your pick is.”

“I take all my advice back, I hope your girlfriend dumps you,” you sipped the champagne, making him laugh.

“Come on, I’m just messing with you,” he said, “Do you want me to buy you an extra ugly vase so that you can forgive me?”

“I can buy my extra ugly vases myself, thank you,” you sulked, “Do you know what my problem is?”

“Hm?”

“I’m surrounded by love,” you nodded at Kenzie and Mina who seemed to be in their own worlds and your mother and Nolan who held hands over the table, listening to the auctioneer, “It’s like being surrounded by booze when you’re trying to go sober.”

“Hey if it makes you feel any better, my relationship is in shambles too.”

“It will stop being in shambles the moment you stop being a stubborn ass,” you murmured, still holding the fragile glass in your hand but as soon as you took another sip, your mother raised her brows, looking at someone over your shoulder, Mina narrowed her eyes and you felt someone’s presence behind you. The lovely scent filling your nostrils said it was Spencer, and your suspicion was proven when you heard a low whisper in your ear.

“Come with me.”

The champagne you were drinking went down the wrong tube and you started coughing before you stared up at him, convinced that you had just imagined that, considering it wasn’t the first time you were hearing that only in a different context.

“I’m sorry?” you managed to stammer and he frowned at your reaction, then nodded at the door.

“Outside?” he said and it dawned on you,

“Right, outside,” you murmured as you tried to pull yourself together and pushed your chair back.

“Y/N?” Mina said warningly but you shook your head.

“It’s fine, I’ll be right back,” you said as you stood up and felt Spencer’s hand on your lower back as he guided you out of the hall, his skin on yours sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. As soon as you stepped out of the hall he turned to you, his eyes searching yours frantically.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice and you pulled your brows together, trying to understand what he was talking about.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be okay?” you asked “I’m having the time of my life trying to pick between an ugly vase and an ugly painting. Seen anything you like yet? It’s for charity.”

“No, Y/N-“ he nibbled on his lip and you stared at him for a moment before your breath got caught in your throat and your hand shot up to hold his arm.

“Another murder?” you whispered, “God, did someone die? That’s why you’re being like this?”

“We just found her a block away.”

“Do I- do I know who it is?” you asked numbly and he pulled out his cellphone to show you the picture and you gasped, covering your mouth as soon as you saw the screen.

It was that woman who had bumped into you just at the beginning of the night, the one who had walked away without apologizing.

“I just…” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “I think I saw her tonight. But it- she- she was just alive, I don’t-“

“The marks show that it just happened. Very recently.”

You could feel the room spinning around you but you tried to pull yourself together.

“But I don’t-“

“Y/N,” he said your name, clearly this time, “I was talking to you probably around the time it was happening, but you mentioned you were the first one to get here right?”

You nodded slowly, “Yeah, the traffic. Well, that and the meetings and the babysitter- how is that relevant?”

Spencer fell into silence, taking a deep breath and you looked up at him.

“What?” you asked again and he stole a look at the hall.

“Obviously there’s no evidence to show this yet and I might be wrong, but do you want to know what I think?” he asked and you nodded again.

“Yes?”

“I think you were sitting with the copycat killer just now.”

You blinked dumbly, your brows furrowed in thought and slowly, very slowly that ice in your veins made its way through your system, a tingling spreading from the base of your neck up to your head. You could feel the panic crashing down on you before you turned your head to look at the your table, Mina and Kenzie watching you, Lincoln playing with his phone and your mother and Nolan having a quiet conversation. Spencer’s words echoed in your head, drowning out every single noise coming from the hall.

I think you were sitting with the copycat killer just now.

“Oh,” you breathed out, closing your eyes, “Fuck.”

Chapter 23

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds #twisted

[jjkyaoi]

y’all mfers asked for it. anyways, cry =).

• the both of them decide that they don’t want to be involved w/ anything that goes on the smp anymore. the both of them, unanimously decide that they want to be cut off completely; they’re tired and they want it break, so they take their things from snowchester & decide to start a new home. the move off further into the woods and start off a little cottage-esque home, far away from the smp lands where they can just,,.. relax.

• they frequently get into fights because the two of them share a bed ((note: it’s platonic you creeps)), because the two of them thought about having seperate rooms, but they decided they didn’t want to (for fear of waking up one day and not knowing where the other was—not knowing if they were in danger). so there’s frequent battles over the blanket, over the space on the bed, over if one of them is snoring or if they’re laying on top of each other. they bicker all the time.

TUBBO; tommy, youre—youre hogging the blanket,,,

TOMMY, half awake: hmmrrmnmgh?

TUBBO: dude you’re hogging the fucking blanket let Go

TOMMY, pulling the blanket closer to himself: mm >:(

TUBBO; wha— we SHARE A BED YOU CAN JUST STEAL THE BLANKET—

• surprisingly enough, tommy’s the one who’s on breakfast duty. you think it’d be him who wasn’t trusted to be in the kitchen, but surprisingly enough he’s actually a pretty decent cook. every morning, though, he wakes up at crack ass in the morning—because he’s an early riser, of fucken course—to start breakfast. every day tubbo notices that he’s gone because the blanket was colder w/o him, and he always goes on a search

TUBBO, standing on the staircase w/ the blanket in hand; come back to bed :(

TOMMY: dude i’m making breakfast

TUBBO: ,,..tommy 🥺

TOMMY;

TOMMY: ALRIGHT if i HAVE to— 🙄

• in the middle of the night, they frequently like to sit by the fireplace and just,,... reminisce. sometimes it’s stories about the past of l’manberg, sometimes it’s tubbo’s stories about new l’manberg while tommy was gone. sometimes, though, they’d cuddle up together on the couch & tell each other things they were so afraid to tell anyone else; all their fears and everything that happened to them while the other was gone.

TUBBO: you know i’m sorry for exiling you, right?

TOMMY: i know that, tubbo. you’ve apologized like ten times—

TUBBO: it doesn’t seem like it’s enough. because i am, sorry. i’m sorry.

TOMMY: i know.

TUBBO: ...do you?

TOMMY, resting his head on his shoulder: i know.

• tubbo’s really the only one who leaves their house, and it’s only to go to snowchester. he frequently likes to check up on the place—specifically the process w/ the nukes but shhh—since he’d left it to niki and jack when he’d went away, and sometimes he’s gone for a very long time. all the while he’s gone tommys blowing up his communicator w/ messages about how he’s doing, if he’s doing alright, when he’ll be coming home. if he’s gone for too long tommy comes over them himself just to drag him back home solely because he missed him.

• TOMMY, kicking down the door to snowchester; you’re coming home >:(

TUBBO, sighing: tommy i’ve been here for one hour.

• after a couple days in retirement, tommy becomes significantly softer. he drops the big man act when he’s in the comfort of his home, & he finds himself getting a lot more,,... emotional about the regular things. he tends to reminisce about the old times a lot & hes lot more gentle? tubbo has a counter for how many times he’s cried while he’s been there. currently, it’s at 6.

• ranboo visits a lot! he doesn’t stay for very often, but he’s really one of the only people who’s allowed to stay? he uses their guest bedroom & he’s always the one who updates them about the going-ons that happen in the smp. aka, they have gossip-seshes BEIWGJAA

RANBOO: so anyway, did you guys hear what happened today?

TUBBO, leaning forward: no way

• the end up getting two pets together!! they’re two cows, because tommy had found ‘em in the woods and he’d absolutely fell in love w/ them. they always have fights over which cows are there’s and which cows love them more, & also because of the fact that tubbo frequently tries to get the cows to sleep in the bed with both of them.

TOMMY, with his arms crossed; for the last time, tubbo, the cows aren’t allowed to sleep in the bed w/ us! they have their own bed!!

TUBBO: but,,.. tommy 🥺

TOMMY; they stink

TUBBO: you stink >:(

• there isn’t a moment where they won’t be touching each other. even if they live together & they aren’t separated often, they’re constantly touching each other; whether it be a backhug while tommys cooking, or it’ll be throwing their legs on their laps while they sit on the couch; or it’ll be holding hands while they walk; they’re constantly touching like they’re afraid they’ll lose each other.

• they exchange promise bracelets, in the future? it was tubbo who came up w/ the idea. after a particularly bad night before, he came up w/ the idea of giving each other promise bracelets—promise bracelets that they won’t ever leave each other’s side, and they’re going to be together forever. they’re badly made things that’re falling apart at the seams, but tommy cherished them with his life. tubbo gets a red one & tommy gets a green one. the reasoning? so they always have each other’s colors

JACK; that’s a nice bracelet you have, tubbo. you make that?

TUBBO, looking down at his bracelet; oh, yeah. it’s for me and tommy.. it’s promise bracelets :)

• whenever it’s late at night, they always climb up to the roof to look at the stars together. tommy was the one to suggest it, when he was able to see the stars clearly from outside their window, and it’s been a thing they’ve done ever since. they sometimes even bring up blankets and drink chocolate up there together, just talking about everything that comes to their mind. tubbo frequently falls asleep up there—cause hot chocolate makes him sleepy—and tommy always has to carry him to bed. he doesn’t mind, though.

TUBBO; hey, tommy?

TOMMY: yeah?

TUBBO, pointing at a star; that one reminds me of you :]

TOMMY: wha— it’s a star, tubbo. how would it remind you of me?

TUBBO: because it shines bright. just like you.

TOMMY: oh.

TOMMY:

TOMMY: well, that’s— you’re stupid tubbo, and that’s—that’s a dumb thing to say! you’re—stupid. that’s dumb.

TUBBO, laughing: don’t cry.

TOMMY, already on the verge of tears; i’m Not >:(

TUBBO: mhm.

TOMMY: ...

TOMMY: thank you tubbo.

TUBBO: mhm :)

#mcyt #mcytblr #dream smp #tommyinnit #minecraft youtubers #mcyters #woo #so what if i cried during this? #that’s none of your fucken business >:( #i just. i love they :( #long post #tubbolive #clingy duo #jack manifold #niki nihachu #clingyblr #dream smp spoilers #/roleplay #dsmp #hc’s

[bi-bi-buckleydiaz]

deep breath, do your job | owen joyner

requested; yes! - Could you do a Owen x reader where the reader is Owens personal assistant while filming JATP and while they are filming the reader starts catching feelings for Owen but Owen is in a relationship. Owen and his girlfriend breakup and the reader comes over to comfort Owen and Owen confesses that the reason him and his girlfriend broke up was because of the reader.

word count; 6.4K ... yeah kinda got away from me there. longest fic i’ve ever written

warnings; language, implied sexual content but no actual sex or description thereof

a/n; lol, so i just wrote from 1AM - 4AM because i’m procrastinating my child dev. project thats due today that’s worth a quarter of my grade. i really didn’t mean for this to be so long so it’s probably not this good and the ending is a lil’ rough, but oh well. hope whoever requested this likes it. i kinda do even though it’s long and only slightly proofread.

“Owen Patrick Joyner! Get your ass into hair and makeup before - oh, um, okay oops. Sorry ‘bout that. Should have knocked. I’ll just - yep, i’ll just go.” 

You thought he’d be sleeping. It’s nap time for him anyway, so he should’ve been sleeping. Instead, your technically boss and definite crush, was on his trailer couch with a girl you’ve never seen before. Kissing her. Without a shirt. Yeah, you definitely need to get out of there. 

You’re quick to close his door and begin to walk back to the hair and makeup trailer to tell them Owen will be a minute. 

“Y/N! Hey! Wait up! It’s um, it’s not, well it is, but -” He grabs your arm, causing you to turn around and face him, which, big mistake. Abort. Abort. Turn around. His post make out face is something you did not want to see. Liar.  

“It’s fine Owen. What you do in your free time is not my, well, actually it is since i’m your PA, I just mean who - WHAT, what you do in your personal time, in your trailer, is not my concern. Just, you’re needed in hair and makeup like, an hour ago. So, yeah, just, get there.” You stumble over half your words and watch his face fall as you near the end of your spiel. When he lets go of your arm you’re quick to turn around and leave him alone, walking right past hair and makeup and to set where you can curl up in your chair and eat your weight in brownies, if Madi hasn’t taken them all that is. You hope he goes to get his hair done. You know you should walk with him there because if you’re not practically dragging him to where he needs to go he never gets there on time, as just witnessed. But it’s usually because he’s goofing off with Charlie, not sucking face with a random girl. 

You don’t notice the brownie in your hand has crumbled until a whistle comes from behind you. You turn around a little too quickly, sending the brownie bits flying to the floor. 

“Shit.” You kneel down to begin picking it up, another hand coming into help. Charlie, based on the rings adorning the fingers. 

“Is Owen’s keeper okay?” You huff a laugh at the name the cast gave you a week into filming. You’re the only one who has managed to keep Owen in line since filming started, the only reason he’s ever on time for anything or actually has real food in the apartment or has his drumsticks when needed, etc. etc. 

The boys didn’t want PA’s when Kenny proposed it during bootcamp, they were young adults, they didn't want to boss someone around, it felt wrong. But having more experience than the boys, Kenny vetoed how they felt and told them PA’s would help tremendously, especially on a project like this. That’s where you came in. You were trying to get into the directing and producing scene in Hollywood, you’re dream to be as good a director as Steven Spielberg or, well, Kenny Ortega. But you knew you had to start small, so you applied for a PA job on an upcoming Netflix show, getting hired within the week. Now here you are, a nineteen year old being in charge of another nineteen year old who acts more like he’s five. 

In the beginning, it was purely professional. You were nothing more than his PA who got him from place A to place B in a timely fashion. But then he started to rope you into pranks with the rest of the band. He started inviting you to movie nights, and adventures to the grocery store, and ice skating with Charlie and Madi, and somewhere between helping him keep his life in order and watching him fall on his ass at the ice rink, you fell for the blonde. You know it’s a mistake, falling for him. You work for him. He’s your friend. That’s all he sees you as, but you couldn’t help it. But you’re good at compartmentalizing, so you took all the inappropriate feelings, shoved them in a box, locked the box, and hid it deep in your unconscious. You were doing well with ignoring the box, until you walked in on Owen kissing someone that wasn’t you. 

“I’m fine Charlie, just, stressed. Owen was an hour late to hair and makeup so I kinda feel like a shit PA right now.” Charlie chuckles and hugs you as you both stand up. 

“Please Y/N, you’re the best PA. If it weren’t for you, Owen would never know where anything is, including his head.” You laugh into his shoulder, reveling in the hug for a few more seconds. When you part, you see a flash of blonde enter the set and sigh in relief. He made it. He’s ready. You’re not fired today. 

Just incredibly confused and upset. 

But not fired.

“You better go, I know you’re in this scene with Owen.” Charlie nods and squeezes your shoulder once before running after Owen onto the set that holds Julie’s shed. Taking a deep breath, you try to push whatever the hell you saw ten minutes ago into your box, and get ready for the day ahead. 

Four hours, six brownies, and two cookies later, Owen is officially wrapped for the day, meaning you can go home and continue to eat your feelings in ice cream. You’re quick to grab your binder full of Owen’s schedules to drop tomorrow’s off at his trailer before he sees you. You’re not really in the mood to talk to him about what happened earlier, so you fast walk to his trailer, fully intent on just leaving the paper on his counter where he’ll see it, but a brown haired, green eyed girl throws that plan right out the window. 

You’re so stupid. You should’ve known she would still be here. Waiting. 

“Oh, um, hi.” She says. She sounds nice. She looks nice. But when you look at her all you can see is her hands in Owen’s hair and his lips on hers. 

“Hi.” You don’t know how, but you managed to put on a smile and put a little pep into your voice. “I’m Ashley. I’m waiting for Owen. Is he done?” You nod, not trusting your voice as you stand awkwardly in the doorway, one foot on the step the other in the trailer, hand outstretched ready to place the schedule on the table. 

“He just wrapped for the day. Should be here in a few.” The girl - Ashley - nods. 

“You’re Y/N, right? His personal assistant?” How does she know that. She giggles, “He talks about you all the time. Says the only reason he’s not fired or dead in a ditch is because of you.” OH, you said that aloud. Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoo-

“Y/N! What are ya doing just standing in the doorway?” Fuck. You put a smile on and turn around. He’s smiling softly at you, still in Alex’s clothes, twirling those damn drumsticks around his fingers. 

“Um, just dropping tomorrow’s schedule off. Here. Okay...bye.” You walk down the steps, letting the door shut behind you, fully intent on leaving, but Owen grabs your arm again, just like earlier, causing you to stop and turn to look at him. 

“Wait. Can we talk real quick. About...earlier?” No. No absolutely not. 

“Um, I really have to go. I have a lot to do tonight for tomorrow.” Owen sighs and lets go of your arm, face contorting into that of a sad puppy. 

“Just, one minute Y/N. Please. Let me explain.” Screw him and his perfect freaking face. 

“A minute.” His face lights up and grabs your hand, leading you back into his trailer, smiling even wider at seeing Ashley sitting pretty on the couch. 

“Y/N, this is Ashley, my girlfriend.” Ashley smiles and waves, standing up to stand by Owen and grab his hand. A rock settles in your chest at the word. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

“Nice. I’m Y/N. But you knew that. Just like you also know I’m in charge of getting him to places on time. Which didn't happen today.” Owen’s face flushes at that while Ashley terribly hides a smirk behind her hand. 

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that Y/N. She surprised me today. We weren’t supposed to see each other until Thanksgiving but she finished classes early and flew out to surprise me. Kinda got, caught up in -” His face is beat red so you’re quick to cut him off. 

“It’s fine. Just, try not to get ‘caught up’ tomorrow, yeah?” It’s harsh and full of hostility, but you want to leave, the word still bouncing around in your head, swirling around the scene you walked into earlier. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

Girlfriend. 

Flushed face. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

“I have to go. See you tomorrow on set at 5 Am. Got it? Five A M. Don’t make me break into your apartment again. I almost got arrested for that.” Owen is still reeling from your harsh words said a second ago to laugh at the memory. Ashley however, has no qualms about speaking up. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s here on time.” She smiles and wraps around his arm like a koala. You hold back a scoff, throwing up a fake smile before turning and leaving. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

It’s almost midnight.

It’s 11:48 PM and someone is knocking on your door. 

Who the fuck is pounding on your door at near midnight. 

You shuffle to the door wrapped up in your comforter, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. You don’t bother looking through the peephole, too angry at the person behind the door to bother, just wanting to yell at them and get back to bed. 

“What the - Charlie?” He looks exhausted, hair ruffled and eyes puffy. He’s in joggers, a random band tee and his denim jacket. You’re pretty sure his shoes are on the wrong feet. 

“Can I stay the night?” He doesn’t wait for your response before walking into your apartment, flinging his shoes and jacket off and walking to your room. You sigh, ignoring the way he just threw his stuff around and instead follow him to your room before he takes your side of the bed. You walk in just as he chucks his shirt off and woah. You were so not expecting that. An explanation as to why he’s here at midnight? Yeah. Him taking your side of the bed? Definitely. But not Charlie taking his shirt off and crawling onto the right side of the bed and curling around a pillow. You take a moment to collect yourself and your thoughts before crawling into bed next to him, making sure to drape the comforter over him as well. He hums in content and turns around to face you. 

“Sorry for barging in like this. Just, ugh, Owen and that girl are not quiet if you catch my drift.” And it’s like the rock in your heart is now a boulder and it’s crushing your ribcage. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You’re frozen, staring at Charlie’s half asleep face. “Like I get it, you’ve missed each other. But c’mon bro I’m there too.” He keeps talking. Keeps pushing the boulder until all the ribs crack and puncture your lungs. “There’s somethings in this world I never wanted to hear, and Owen moaning was one of them.” He won’t shut up. Charlie shut up. You’re entire chest is fracturing, breaking at his words and he needs to shut. up.

“I didn’t really know where else to go, but I remembered how comfy your bed was last movie night so, here I am.” His voice is raspy, words slurring as he’s trying to fight sleep to explain to you why he’s here. But you can’t focus on him right now. Can’t think about a shirtless Charlie in your bed. There’s only one thing you can think about right now. 

Girlfriend. 

Shirtless. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

Girlfriend. 

“Thanks for letting me crash by the way. I’ll try not to kick you in my sleep.” He chuckles, then finally opens his eyes when you don’t laugh back. You don’t know how you look right now. You know you’re frozen. But is the panic and pure sadness showing on your face? It must be, because suddenly Charlie is wide awake and leaning up on his elbow to look at you fully. “Y/N are you okay?” He’s worried. You want to tell him you’re okay. It’s fine. Everything is fine. But you can’t move. You can’t talk. Because reality is crushing you. It’s ripping up your heart, suffocating you, consuming your mind. 

Owen isn’t yours. 

Owen will never be yours. 

You’re just a friend. 

You’re just his PA. 

That’s when the tears finally start. They come slowly, one trailing down your cheek, then another. Then all at once your sobbing into Charlie’s chest, no doubt getting snot all over him. But he doesn’t seem to care. He just starts to hum some random song while he repeatedly runs his hand over your hair, the other holding you close to him. He keeps humming, his chest vibrating and giving you something to focus on that isn’t your depressing thoughts. It’s almost soothing, the petting and the hug and the humming. 

You don’t know how long you sob into him, but when you stop, his humming stops too. He still holds you close, just lets go of your head so you can lean back a little and look up at him. He’s brows furrow in concern and he pouts at your post-crying face. 

“Are you okay? Am I really that bad of company?” He tries for funny but you can’t bring yourself to laugh with him. Just pout and push his semi-wet chest. “Seriously Y/N, i’ve never seen you like this. What’s wrong?” Those two words. 

What’s wrong?

What’s wrong? I fell for my boss and now he’s doing it with some girl and I can’t stop thinking about them and it’s killing me because before I could live with being his friend and PA because at least there was some sliver of a chance but now there’s nothing because he has someone and I have no one and I can’t breathe because oh my god I love him. I love that stupid fool and i’m nothing but his personal assistant. 

It’s quiet for a minute, too quiet, and that’s when you realize you said all that out loud. You look up at Charlie, which was a mistake because his face is full of pity. It’s all sad puppy eyes and “Shit Y/N i’m so sorry.” A fresh wave of tears make their way out of your eyes, but Charlie is quick to wipe them away. 

“Y/N I didn’t know I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have said all of that, God I was so stupid.” And then it’s like a whole new flood gate opens, this one full of laughter though. You start with a chuckle, but soon it’s full out belly laughing. Because Charlie isn’t the stupid one here. “I’m the stupid one. I mean, how idiotic does a PA have to be to fall for the one they’re in charge of? Never mix work with pleasure. It’s PA-ing 101, don’t fall for your boss. I’m so fucking stupid to ever fall for him or think he’d like me back because i’m just his stupid PA who has no talent what so ever, never has a good hair day, can’t go a day without eating their weight in sugar, and will never see him again after filming is wrapped.” Your laughing dies down by the end, and then ends completely when you see the look on Charlie’s face. It’s not exactly pity, but it’s not exactly sadness either. It’s hard to describe what exactly it is, but it’s not good. 

“Y/N. Babes. I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again, okay? I swear to God next time I hear anything like that come out of your mouth again, I’m hitting you with a pillow.” You giggle, but he stays serious. “Dead ass Y/N. Listen, was it probably not the smartest to fall for Owen? Yeah. But you didn’t know he had someone. I didn’t even know he had a girl and I’m his roommate. But, we can’t help who we like. It’s all brain chemistry and heart palpitations and whatever else. It’s something we can’t control. So don’t say you’re stupid because of something you can’t control.” 

“You’re being really smart and caring for twelve am.” You both chuckle, a real smile gracing your face for once in the past twelve hours. 

“I’m sorry for the breakdown it’s just, there’s a lot in my head right now and what you said really didn’t help.” Charlie sighs and pulls you in close. 

“I’m sorry babes. You should’ve slapped me or something.” 

“I probably would’ve had the breakdown at some point tonight anyway.” Charlie pulls back a bit to look at you, confusion on his face. “I kinda walked in on them making out earlier when Owen was late to hair and makeup.” 

“Is that why you crushed that brownie earlier?” You sigh and nod. 

“Y/N, i’m sorry. I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” 

“It’s fine Charlie. It’s, well, it’s not but, I’ll get over it. I’m a big girl. Besides, I have you to get my tears and snot all over right?” He groans while you giggle, but he isn’t really mad if the way he pulls you close and rests his face in your hair is any indication. 

“Always babes.” 

The next day you drive to set with Charlie who didn’t have to be on set at five like Owen, but joined you nonetheless. Taking his duty as your new ‘heartguard’ as he called it last night, you walk to hair and makeup with his arm around your shoulders. It’s comforting, even though he’s putting most of his weight on you because he’s exhausted, the coffee you gave him this morning clearly doing nothing to wake up. 

“Charlie, you could’ve stayed in bed until you were actually needed.” You laugh as he trips up the steps to the trailer, nearly face planting if it weren’t for you wrapping your arms around his waist last minute. 

“Char you good?” You hear BooBoo ask. Charlie grumbles something incoherent and shoves his face into your neck as you lean against the arm of the couch. BooBoo laughs, so do you, but quickly sober up when Owen walks in, Ashley on his arm. Charlie must have ESP or something because, without looking up at who walked in, he wraps his arms around your waist and murmurs in your ear, “Deep breaths. I’m here.” You do as he says, shooting Owen a friendly smile, but dropping it as he frowns at you. 

What is that about? 

“Glad to see you on time Owen. I wouldn’t have been able to break in this morning anyway because an octopus decided to break into my own apartment last night.” You ruffle Charlie’s hair as you say that and he grumbles some more, playfully biting your neck as well. “Ow. Asshole.” Owen frowns even deeper at that, while BooBoo chuckles. He get’s scolded a second later for moving. 

“So that’s where you disappeared to last night. I was wondering why you weren’t home this morning.” Owen’s voice is tight while he says it, Ashley noticing as well if the tightened grip on his arm is anything to go by. Charlie squeezes your waist as a way to say, ‘prepare yourself’ before he moves his head to lean against your shoulder so he can talk. 

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t have had to if you and your girl weren’t so freaking loud.” You tense up, mind starting to reel again, but a squeeze to your waist and a warm breath on your neck manages to bring you back. The trailer goes quiet, even the hair and makeup ladies tensing up and sensing the tension. Charlie, ever the wrong place, wrong time type of guy, grabs your hand and places it on his hair, then moves it back and forth. 

“Pet me.” Despite the tension in the room, you can’t help but giggle at the stupid Canadian boy wrapped around you. Apparently that’s all the rest of the people in the trailer needed to go back to what they were doing. That or they just didn’t want to get involved in young adult drama. You shoot a look at Owen, his jaw tense and hands clenched into fists. Completely ignoring the way Ashley leans up to kiss Owen’s neck, you open your phone and begin to read off his schedule for the day, your left hand still running through Charlie’s hair. 

“Hair and makeup at five AM, sit your butt down and let Shelly do her thing, costume fitting right after. First scene at six-thirty with BooBoo, you guys are doing the scene at the Orpheum where you talk about what’s been going on, you’re going to be sad so this whole frowny face you got going on? Keep it. A break after that then rehearsal with Charlie, Jer, and Mads for Stand Tall. Fitting for the Stand Tall suit is after that, but no actual filming for that scene yet, just getting the measures right so after that, you’re done for the day.” You take a deep breath after all that, BooBoo whistling at you from his seat. 

“You could be an auctioneer with how fast you talk.” You smile and bow your head at him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment Boo.” He shoots you a smile and then raises his hand to high five Owen as he sits next to him. Owen ignores him. In fact, he stays silent throughout all of getting his hair and makeup done. Only smiling occasionally when Ashley shows him a meme on her phone. You watch them, the boulder in your chest rolling around as you do so. But not for jealousy, no, for concern. Owen is acting very unlike himself. You may be upset right now, especially with him, but it doesn’t mean you still don’t see him as a friend; still don’t worry about him. Something is wrong, and you can’t help but feel like it’s your fault. 

“So did it work?” You jump in surprise at the voice behind you, the cookie in your hand crumbling and falling onto the table. 

“Charlie! What did I say about sneaking up on me?” You turn to look at the boy who is smiling too wide at you for you to think this is about to be a completely innocent conversation. 

“Did it work?” He’s practically vibrating where he stands.

“Did what work?” 

“The cuddling this morning? Didn’t you see Owen? He was totally jealous.” And - what? That’s why he was so touchy this morning? 

“I just thought you were tired, that was - you were trying to make Owen jealous? Charlie what the hell? He has a girlfriend!” Charlie rolls his eyes and loops his arm around yours, dragging you away from the cookies and towards the costume room. 

“Yeah, but we both know she shouldn’t be. And the way he was acting this morning? I think he’s starting to realize that too.” There’s no way...right? No, the way Charlie described last night...no. 

“No, okay, he was probably just tired and angry about having to be here so early.” Yeah, that’s it. He was not jealous of the friendly cuddling you and Charlie were doing. Totally...not. Holy shit. You hear Charlie giggling in your ear as you enter costume. 

There, in front of you, is a very shirtless, very toned, very pretty Owen Joyner.

“You’re welcome.” Then Charlie is off to God knows where. Leaving you alone with Owen. Well, not really alone since Soyon is here too, running around looking for different fabrics and textures to throw on Owen. A still very shirtless Owen. 

“Oh, hi Y/N. What are you doing here?” Owen asks, looking at you though the floor length mirror in front of him. He’s not smiling at you, but he’s not frowning either, so improvement from this morning. 

“Oh, um, just making sure you got here on time. And look at that. You did! Good job.” You clap, who knows why, but it makes Owen laugh, which, whew, okay. 

“Yeah, I reminded him.” A voice behind you says. You turn and look at Ashley walking in, coffee cup in hand. She bounces up to Owen, ignoring Soyon and placing a big, wet kiss onto his lips before moving to the couch off to the side. Owen seems shocked by the PDA, which makes sense, you know he’s not big on that, remembering one late night conversation you both had a few weeks ago. 

“Anyway, Y/N, how does this one looks. I think the ruffles are nice. And then when he’s performing Stand Tall we can,” and then she begins to unbutton the shirt all the way down to mid chest and okay, seriously Soyon, now you just want to torture me. 

“I like this.” Owen says, twirling in the mirror like a ballerina. This causes the shirt to fling open more, showing his chest more in the process.

Deep breaths. 

Be a friend. 

You’re a big girl. 

“Yeah. It’s good,” you say, walking over to him to tuck to the sides back together somewhat. “Are you going to keep with the pink theme for the jacket?” Soyon smiles and nods, walking away for a minute leaving you alone with Owen and Ashley. 

“Should it really be unbuttoned that much? I mean, it is a kids show? I don’t want to share my boy with fangirls.” Ashley says. You can’t stop your eyes from rolling or the scoff that leaves your mouth. You watch Owen’s Adam's apple bob as he gulps. 

“Please, Charlie is sleeveless for a majority of the show. Owen showing a little chest isn’t gonna hurt anyone. Besides, Soyon chose good. The way the shirt fits and settles it’s never going to open all the way. Unless, ya know, he twirls like some Carolynn Rowland wannabe.” You smile up at Owen and inhale sharply when you see he’s already looking down at you. “And with the jacket on it’ll stay put pretty well.” You’re still holding the shirt in your hands, looking at Owen’s face as you talk. For a second, it’s just you and him, looking at each other, smiling. Then Soyon comes back and clears her throat. The trance breaks and you back up. You wipe your sweaty hands on your jeans before backing up and standing next to the mirror. You feel eyes on you and look over to see Ashely glaring at you. 

“Here we go. One pink jacket to match.” Owen slides it on and smiles wide. You have to say, it looks good. Professionally speaking of course. 

“Soyon, have I ever said how freaking amazing you are. I mean, this is really good looking. Very Alex.” Owen praises. He’s smiling and it’s a nice sight after this mornings debacle. 

“Alex is going to be the best looking one on that stage.” Owen looks over at you, his smile still there, and the boulder shrinks three sizes. 

“Still think the shirt should be buttoned.” Ashley mutters. But everyone ignores her, even Owen, who does another twirl in front of the mirror. 

“Well then, you’re all set Owen. Go ahead and change and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Soyon leaves, going off to do costume designer things, leaving you alone with Owen and Ashley again. Owen takes the jacket off, then looks around not knowing what to do with it. You sigh and smile softly, taking it from him.

“Here, just give me all the clothes and i’ll take them back to your rack.” He smiles thankfully at you, before frowning again and looking down at his outfit. Getting what he’s thinking, you chuckle and cross your arms. “Bub I just saw you shirtless it’s not a big deal. Now c’mon, give me the clothes before Soyon thinks you’re stealing them.” Owen looks up at you in a way you’ve never seen him look at you before. It makes you take a sharp breath in.

“Maybe you should go. I can give the clothes to Soyon. Don’t you have assistant duties to do?” Ashley is right next to you as she says it. It makes your ears hurt and hands clench. You’re quick to unclench though, not wanting to wrinkle the nice pink jacket. Ashley moves forward to unbutton Owen’s shirt all the way, but he grabs her hand before she can begin. 

“Actually I need Y/N to stay. I have to talk to her about some, ya know, assistant stuff. And besides, she knows where Alex’s rack is and that’s where the clothes have to go. Why don’t you go wait for me in the trailer, I’ll be there in a few.” 

I need Y/N to stay. 

That shouldn’t make you feel as warm and tingly as it does. 

Ashley scoffs and looks away, clearly trying to guilt trip him. Owen sighs and kisses her cheek.  

“Trailer. Ten minutes.” Ashley sighs before nodding and finally leaving. He watches her go, then turns back to you when she finally disappears. You clear your throat and he looks back at you, face a bit red. 

“Um, hey.” You chuckle. 

“Hi.” He nods, and you sigh, walking so you’re right in front of him. “Seriously, O, you need to get this off because if they’re not on the rack for Soyon to fix up by the end of the day it’s my head on a stick, not yours.” Then you’re unbuttoning his shirt. 

You’re unbuttoning. His shirt. You don’t realize you’re doing it until you hand grazes his navel when you untuck it from his pants. You hear him suck in a breath and you immediately take two steps back. 

“Sorry, um. Sorry that was not, um, -” 

“It’s okay. You were just, doing your job. Making sure I get stuff done on time, right?” But his voice is wobbly as he says it and his face is as red as a tomato. You couldn’t have made him that flushed, not you? 

“Right. Yeah. Um, so, pants?” Owen looks at you with wide eyes. “I need to take the pants back too.” It’s quiet, but you know he heard you because he nods his head and begins to unbutton them. You suddenly feel very hot, very suffocated. You should’ve left when you had the chance, just let Ashley do this. You shouldn’t be here, watching as he pulls the velvet pants down his legs. Watching as he steps out of them and - oh God he’s falling. You grab his hand to help him but it’s too late, you both tumble to the ground. You’re on top of him, smushed up against his bare chest, faces centimeters apart, sharing breaths. 

“Sorry.” You mumble. You watch him gulp and look down. Down at wha - oh. 

“It’s, it’s okay. I’m the one that fell and pulled you down.” You nod, causing your nose to brush against his. You’re close, so freaking close that if you were to move not even a full centimeter, your lips would touch.

So. 

Close. 

“What. The. Hell!” SHit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You’re quick to scramble away from Owen, butt scooting across the floor to get as far away from him as possible. Owen jumps up, kicking the pants away then realizing that was probably not a smart idea because now he’s half naked in between Ashley and you.  

“Ash I -” 

“You were taking forever, wanted to know why. Thought you said there was nothing between you two?” She’s practically screeching. You know within minutes there will be a crowd. A crowd Owen will not want, his anxiety will not want. Ignoring his stuttering and the conversation in general, you push away the heat in your belly and the tingling in your spine and take a deep breath. 

Deep breath. 

Be a friend. Do your job.

You grab Owen’s clothes and put them in his hands, ignoring his speaking and Ashley ranting, you grab his hand and then hers, and shove them towards the back exit. 

“This is a trailer conversation, not a wardrobe fitting conversation. Leave, now.” 

“No, I have a lot to say -” 

“Listen to me, I’m trying to do my job and not get Owen in trouble. If you really care about him, you’ll take this conversation to his trailer. Now.” Then you shove them out the door before Ashley could screech some more. 

Deep breath. 

Do your job. 

You go back to the fitting area, only to see Charlie, Jer, and Madi standing there, looking confused. 

Deep breath.

Do your job.

“Hey guys. Owen just left. He and Ashley are having a date night.” Charlie gives you a look, but Jer and Madi nod, going to accept it, but Charlie has to open his big dumb Canadian mouth. 

“Why’d we hear screaming then?” Charlie questions. Jer and Madi look at each other, then back at you. 

“Oh, uh, mouse. I saw a mouse. Yep. Mouse. Anyway, I have to get this clothes hung up before they wrinkle, so excuse me.” 

Deep breath. 

Do your job.

You walk around the trio, gathering the suit and shaking everything out as you walk over to the Alex rack to hang them up. You hear the door to the room open and two sets of feet walking out. 

“Charlie, everything is fine okay? Just a little misunderstanding.” 

“Like?” You sigh and turn around from finishing hanging up the clothes. 

“Like...Owen kinda fell and when I went to help him I feel too...on top of him.” There’s silence then, 

“OH MY GOD! Y/N THAT’S LIKE FANFIC SHIT THAT WAS THE MOMENT! DID YOU KISS OH MY GOD TELL ME EVERYTHING!” He’s jumping up and down as he makes his way to you. 

“Ashley walked in.” All excitement stops.

“Oh shit.” You nod, walking past him to settle on the couch, pulling a pillow to your chest. 

“Yeah. And she started screeching and I knew Owen wouldn’t like to attention so I shoved them out the back door to his trailer.” Charlie’s arm goes around you, pulling you close. He goes to say something, but your phone ringing indicating a text from Owen stops him. You pull it out, opening it as Charlie watches over your shoulder. 

My trailer plz. 

Charlie starts shaking your shoulders, smiling like a maniac. “This is your chance Y/N go go GO!” you shake your head at Charlie’s antics, but leave nonetheless. 

Anxiety creeps up on you as you get closer and closer to his trailers, not knowing what you’re going to walk into. Him firing you? Saying you can’t be friends anymore? Ashley ready to claw your face off? 

Deep breath.

Be a friend.

You knock on his door. It opens a second later to a frantic looking Owen. Now you're anxious about him. Why does he look upset? Is he okay? He grabs your hand and pulls you into his, oh, empty trailer. Ashley is nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey, thanks for coming.” You nod, still looking around expecting her to jump out and slap you. “Um, sit. Sit, I have to talk to you about something.” You go to sit on the couch, but then remember what occurred there yesterday and instead lean against the counter. He notices but doesn’t say anything. 

“Yeah okay. What’s up?” You try to act nonchalant, but the anxiety is too high for that. ‘I have to talk to you about something’ never ends well. He walks over and sits on the bed pats the spot next to him. God, this can’t be a good conversation if he really wants you to sit. 

“Ashley and I were never...on here.” He mumbles. You walk over and sit next to him, blushing that he caught on to why you didn’t sit on the couch. 

“Must be serious if you need me to sit.” Owen takes a deep breath, another, another, and then there’s lips on your. They’re soft and nice and taste like carmex chapstick. 

“Mhm, Owen, what, what are you doing?” Your faces are still close together, both of you not wanting to back away yet. 

“I’m gonna talk. Okay I’m gonna talk and I want you to listen and not crawl inside your head too soon okay?” You nod, knowing in this moment you’d do anything to keep him this close. 

“I knew Ashley from high school. She started texting me a few weeks back and one thing led to another and she was calling me her boyfriend. I didn’t want it but it happened and I let it because it got my mind off a girl I shouldn’t like because it would ruin so many things. I didn’t know she was coming to visit and when she knocked on my trailer she jumped me and just kept going. And I just went along with everything yesterday because I’m supposed to be her boyfriend and I’m supposed to think about those things with her and I’m supposed to want those things with her, but I don’t Y/N. I don’t want those things with her I never did. I, I want them with you. I’ve wanted them with you from the moment you finally stopped being shy around me and dragged me from crafts by my ear to hair and makeup. You’re so amazing Y/N and I thought if I did anything I’d ruin this and ruin your career and I didn’t want that. I never wanted that so I went along with Ashley but I shouldn’t have because the whole time I was thinking about you. It’s always been -” You kiss him. You grab him by the cheeks and kiss him. It’s a passionate kiss, an ‘about time’ kiss, an ‘i’m never letting you go’ kiss. 

You only break away when you can’t breathe, and even then you only pull away enough to breath in each other’s air. 

“She left. She’s gone. She knew I was never 100% in.” You nod, but you’re not really listening. You can’t hear anything other than your heartbeat. 

He likes you. 

Owen likes you.

Owen kissed you. 

“It’s always been you, Y/N.” You smile. It’s a big one that you have to hamper down by biting your lip. Owen smiles back, then you’re kissing again. 

And again. 

And again.

#owen joyner #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner imagine #owen joyner fanfiction #owen joyner x reader #owen joyner x y/n #owen joyner fluff #owen joyner angst #owen patrick joyner imagine #owen patrick joyner x reader #jatp #julie and the phantoms #charlie gillespie #madison reyes #jeremy shada

[ghost-ghost-baby]

We're Just Friends! (Omega!bakugo x alpha!reader x omega!Izuku) pt. 2/?

Pt. 1 / pt. 3

Lore: Once an Alpha reaches 21 they get their first rut, they’d either already have their mates or the rut will act as a push for them to get together and bond.

Summary: Reader and Katsuki have been friends for years, and everyone expects them to get together, until reader rescues an omega that lives in their building, and things get a touch more... complicated

Warnings: omegaverse, obviously, yandere themes, Izuku b showin that stalker side more and more, reader is still dense asf, Bakugo b MAD, hella swearing-

“Katsuki, can you let me go? I have class-“ Your words were met with a grunt, Katsuki only tightening his grip on you.

“C’mon, it’s just one class and I can come back right after and we can nap?” You sighed when he still didn’t respond, you didn’t want to hurt him, but you were already late. (You’d hit snooze on your alarm a few too many times, but you couldn’t bring yourself to push Katsuki off until you absolutely had to.)

“I’m sorry-“ you kissed his forehead, smiling at the faint purr he let out. Then you pinched his scent gland, and the omega was springing out of bed and snarling like a cat when you stepped on its tail.

“I know! I know! I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll run back!” You rushed to throw on a pair of jeans, stumbling around as you pulled them up. Katsuki only growled at you from the bed, watching you struggle with dark amusement, sleep still heavy on his mind.

“Text me if you need me to pick anything up on the way home!” You pressed a kiss to his forehead before you left, feeling slightly less guilty as his scent returned to its usual content aroma.

“Hey! L/n, wait up!” You were getting into the elevator when a familiar voice made you turn around, and you waved as Izuku ran down the hall, clutching his backpack like a lifeline.

“Midoriya! Hey! Where ya headed this early?” You pressed the ground button once he was finally in the elevator, biting the inside of your cheek when the elevator closed and you remembered just how potent his scent really was. It was fine, you could handle this, just a minute or two-

“Oh! I just got accepted into UA university! I’m doing forensic science!” Midoriya chirped, and you felt your jaw drop.

“No way! That’s my degree, what’re the odds!” You grinned, missing the way he relaxed when you didn’t suspect anything. “I can show you around if you want?” The elevator dinged and Midoriya beamed as the two of you stepped out.

“Oh really? Are you sure it’s not a bother?” His scent took on a slightly worried turn, and you were reassuring him without a second thought.

“Yeah it’s no bother at all! It’ll be nice to have someone in my classes, my friends and my roommate are doing music degrees so we don’t really have classes together!” The two of you fell into step perfectly, and you couldn’t help but flush when Midoriya walked so close your sides brushed together.

The walk to university had never seemed this short before, and the two of you were getting to class in what felt like record time. The two of you took a seat up the back, barely having time to get your books out before Mr. Aizawa entered, a thermos of coffee bigger than your head slammed down in the desk and the class shut up, the lecture beginning immediately.

“How did you find Mr. Aizawa?” You asked as soon as the two of you were outside, Midoriya had been totally engrossed in the lesson, filling five pages compared to your two. Hey, school had never been your strong point, and you wouldn’t have even made it through high school without Katsuki helping you study, even if he did yell at you for being stupid like, a lot.

“Oh the lesson was great! He seems kinda grumpy for a teacher, but he covers a lot of details and-“

“Hey, Y/n! Who’s the fresh meat! And why’s Bakugo in such a foul mood, what’d you do dude?” A familiar voice interrupted Midoriya, and you waved as Mina and Denki came into view, Denki’s arm slung around Mina’s shoulder.

“I didn’t know Katsuki had class today, why isn’t he with you guys?” You couldn’t help but frown, it wasn’t like Katsuki to not mention having a class, especially when it was in the morning like yours.

“Oh, Kiri and him had something to take care of!” Mina chirped, and a flash of something went through your heart… maybe Katsuki just didn’t want you as an alpha, and Kiri was all sorts of charming-

“L/n, don’t be rude, introduce us!” Mina was staring right at Midoriya, who had moved to stand slightly behind you.

“Oh right! Sorry! This is Izuku Midoriya, we ran into each other yesterday and then realised he lived right opposite Katsuki and I!” You ruffled the back of your hair nervously, and Midoriya couldn’t help but glance at your scent gland, your unmarked scent gland. So you and Kacchan hadn’t sealed the deal, huh? Perfect-

“Oh, he’s so cute! I’m Mina Ashido and this is my mate Denki Kaminari! What are you studying?” Midoriya seemed to relax next to you and you couldn’t help but smile, Mina was always so good at making people feel included.

“You know… you can call me by my first name, if you wanted.”

“Huh-?” Those words had you stumbling over your feet and almost face planting onto the pavement. That was a courting invitation- plain and simple, and your brain short circuited as you turned to face the omega. He couldn’t mean that, right, you’d only known him a day and you’d been far from charming and- was Midoriya holding a blanket?

“I know it’s kinda soon but being with you just feels right- and you’re such a good alpha I’m sure you have dozens of omegas you could choose from and I don’t even know when your birthday is but I couldn’t not say anything so maybe if you wanted to scent this blanket I could put it in my nest and we could start the courting process...“ Midoriya trailed off when you were still silent, eyes darting between him and the blanket and your mouth wide open in disbelief, and your happy scent pumping out in waves was the only thing stopping him from crying.

“M-Me? You want… me… to be your alpha-?” Your face went bright red as you finally processed what was happening, a warmth quickly spreading out from your chest. Katsuki briefly crossed your mind, but then you remembered he didn’t want you- and you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want Midoriya.

“Mid- Izuku, sorry, I’d be honoured!”

“Bakubro- what do you think of f/ns new friend, have you met him yet?” Denki called when he and Mina finally found Katsuki and Kirishima outside one of the cafes next to the university, and the blonde almos dropped the bag of food he was holding.

“Ha- What the fuck do you mean new friend! They didn’t mention anything to me-!” Katsuki was already yelling, and Kirishima sighed as the omegas scent took on a burned tinge, waving in apology to the passer bys that frowned.

“Yeah, apparently he just moved into your building, too!” Mina continued, the two of them far from surprised by this reaction.

“What’s his fucking dynamic- if he’s the same asshole from last night I swear to god-“

“Oh… so you haven’t met him yet, he’s an omega and I’m sure you’ll like him!” Mina waved her hands as she tried to diffuse the situation. It almost did, until Katsuki remembered that scent from last night.

“What does… what does he look like?”

“Oh he’s short! Green hair that was kinda a mess but he had the cutest freckles-“ Mina started, giving Denki a light shove when he interrupted.

“And his eyes man! Biggest puppy dog eyes and they were the brightest green colour!” Katsukis blood went cold with each word, dread and rage quickly settling on his chest, and he could barely ask the next question.

“What’s his name?”

“Um I’m not sure- what do you reckon babe?” Denki turned to Mina and she frowned as she tried to remember.

“I think it was Izuku Midoriya!”

That was the nail in the coffin, an involuntary growl bubbling up in Katsuki’s chest as his vision went red. Why the fuck was Deku back?

You slowly opened the door to your apartment, frowning slightly when Katsukis scent was fainter than usual. He mustn’t have gotten home yet. You’d invited Izuku over to study, (you could really use the help, and he’d taken so many notes-)

“There’s the couch with the TV, or we could go to my room but it’s kinda small and-“

“Wow, Y/n, I thought you just invited me over to study-!” Your face went red at what Izuku was implying, and you were falling over yourself to insist you did just want to study and there weren’t any ulterior motives. Izuku was… slightly disappointed, but there’d be time for that later, so he merely took a seat on the couch and got his books out while you got the two of you a drink and some snacks. The lounge was smaller than his, but it was cozy, and the couch was far more comfortable than his. Plus, the whole place reeked like you and Kacchan, and it took everything Izuku had to stop himself purring, nothing had ever felt so right.

“I didnt know what you wanted so I just grabbed a variety, and I hope jasmine tea is okay? It’s my favourite and I’m kinda out of anything else- Katsukis meant to be doing a grocery run soon anyway-“ you set the tray down next to Izuku’s notebooks, plopping down on the couch with a sigh and taking a second before you grabbed your own books.

“Let’s get down to it then, huh?”

Taglist (v sorry if any of em r wrong)

@pasteldaze@hopeless-ro-simptic@ntngann@somerandominternetgirl@ianem005@lalaluvzen@antisocial-minnie@rogueofbullshit@hakunamatatayqueen@so-uncute@therealwalmartjesus@unlightedfool@

#omegaverse #we’re just friends #bnha x reader #yandere x reader #yandere bnha x reader #omegaverse bnha #yandere izuku x reader #izuku x reader #omega Izuku #katsuki x reader #omega Katsuki #alpha reader #x reader #x you #poly #poly imagine

[wthtorke]

Cultural Differences

One shot commission for @scallopedsuitcase ! Thank you! 

You didn’t know what to do anymore.

When you heard that the Yautja-Human peace treaty was finally up and running and that not only that meant everyone was safe and sound but also that the galaxy’s greatest and sexiest species was to roam free within your planet. You were proudly part of a small community that wasn’t opposed to...engaging-, with such creatures.

It didn’t take long for you to find your Yautja of interest. He was tall. Taller than any other partner you ever had before. That alone did things to you. Their ships had taken residency in whatever forests seemed best to them. You’d never thanked the skies more for living right outside a reserve in your life. 

The first thing you checked was his wrist from afar. To make things easier for everyone while they sorted out yautja translators for humans, yautjas interested in human contact wore different colored lights on their wrist gauntlets. Some of the colors were; red for ‘No Contact’, yellow for ‘formal contact only’, blue for ‘Friendly contact’, and purple for ‘Accepting of human advances’.

Now, while the term was awkward at best, but you were the happiest human on earth when your crush showed up on your street with that purplish wrist gauntlet. it’s lights dancing, glowing brighter and then darker again in an endless cycle.

He was everything you’ve ever dreamed of physically and after some time observing and building up your courage-, you found that his personality was just as much endearing as his physique. 

You’d taken to hiking, something you didn’t exactly have the habit of doing, all in hopes of spotting him by his ship, and so you did. So, there began your mission. While you didn’t have a translator on your person, there was one language that was known to all the galaxy.

Flirting.

Flirting was supposed to be exciting, charming, and well, what better way to let someone know you were totally into them, right? Surely, some winks and gestures here and there would pass him the message loud and clear.

2 weeks in of hiking and you could feel your muscles hardening up. The way your body responded to this new routine spoke volumes of your previous sedentary ways, never really having a reason to leave the house if it wasn’t for work or well, buying what you needed. So far, however, your flirting had brought you no results. The times you could make out his expressions when he saw you were...not pleasing. He looked...confused, at best. 

So, you sat at home on a particularly cold night, holding a warm mug of hot chocolate to keep the shivers at bay, wondering what could you possibly be doing wrong. You bit your lip, winked, wore your best clothes, and still, nothing. It was frustrating.

You checked on your translator order situation, refreshing the page now and then as you knew they were updated at night. When the peace treaty was first announced and the ‘requesting’ system was up, you hurried to place your order. The translator wasn’t cheap, and it would only be one of the very prototypes, meaning it wouldn’t be able to translate everything at once so fluidly, but at least you’d be able to communicate faster before most of the people could, and that alone made you very happy, it was exhilarating. 

The translator had been ‘In Confection’ for months now, finally coming around the expected date of postage as your page told you. 

Another hour went by before you refreshed it again, the yellow dot becoming green with the text you had been waiting for underneath it. 

“In Transit.”

Finally.

With newfound excitement and determination, you pulled up the weather report for tomorrow’s morning and afternoon, sighing as you thought of your Yautja crush yet again.

The next morning came as fast as your head hit the pillow as you jumped up and out of the bed, ready to start your day with your morning jog, hoping to see him either on the way up or down the trail. Teeth brushed, hair tied up, and a water bottle filled, you made your way out the door, feeling the chilly morning air fill your lungs, wiping away the last remains of sleep from your body.

While jogging, you fell in thought. 

The translator wouldn’t take more than 3 days to arrive. In little time you’d be able to communicate with him...but what if he didn’t like you? 

Your jogging slowed down to a walk as this hit you hard in the head.

What if he had already rejected you and you didn’t catch it? You thought about it further and so came the odd looks he gave you, the puzzled stares, and more. You made your efforts well known and well shown as well, and he didn’t growl or try to move away, so it couldn’t have been that bad, right?

You looked at your feet as you walked, lost in those thoughts as you hit something hard, making you stumble back a couple of steps. You looked back up in surprise only to find out it wasn’t something but someone.

“Oh, hi! Sorry, I um, I didn’t see you,” You said, doing your best to gesture to him, and then your eyes, trying to tell him what you said.

As always, he stood there for a second, slowly nodding afterward. He tilted his head to the side a bit, getting a little closer to your person as if inspecting your face. His tusks were close to your face, so close you thought he was going to kiss you. Or well, try to, given he didn’t have lips.

“I-,” was all you managed to get out before he stepped back, shaking his head slightly before reaching behind his back, where his pouch usually was. Hands coming forward again, he extended his arm, opening his palm to present you with something.

You gasped at the notion of receiving a gift from him, this could only mean courtship, right?

Looking down at his hand, you were more than confused to see a very human-made looking pill bottle. “What?” You said, picking it up from his hand.

‘Melatonin. Sleep aid.’

“Sleep aid?” You questioned, looking back up at him, “Are you saying I look tired?!” You said, shaking the pill bottle towards him, the yautja raising his hands a bit, the universal sign for ‘hey calm down’.

But what could this possibly mean?

“I tried so hard! And you say I took tired? I’ve been coming here every day to see you! You-!” You sighed, shoulders slacking a bit after your outburst. “Okay, okay. You know what? Fuck-, I get it, I’ll let you be,” You said, turning right back around, deciding to end your exercise right there when the biggest hand you ever felt closed around your arm, making you look back again.

You had heard the Yautja language before, but hearing it live was just as foreign. He was speaking fast, the clicks and guttural growls making absolutely no sense to you.

He still, somehow, managed to look confused while speaking such a harsh tongue.

“I don’t understand!” You exasperated, yanking your arm free and sighing again. You put your hand up, “Wait.” you said. 

He looked at your hand, which accompanied with the word made something light up in his face as he nodded this time. “Good, I’ll um, see you later,” You said, waving and making the rest of your way back to your house.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it. Sitting on your couch while staring at the pill bottle on the table. It was what it was, you supposed. It was truly melatonin. 

But what did he mean with it? Did he want you to sleep well? Why did he think you weren’t getting enough sleep?

“Where did he even get this?!”

The pill bottle was sealed still, just like the ones you’d buy at the drug store. Could you imagine? A Yautja walking in a drug store and purchasing melatonin? If you told that to someone, they’d think you were crazy, even with the whole peace treaty going on.

Another day went by and you didn’t go jogging anymore, afraid your ‘relationship’ could turn sour if you saw him again without your translator. Still, the pill bottle haunted you, sitting in the exact place on your table.

On the second morning after your disastrous encounter, the doorbell rang. And you knew exactly what it was for. Sprinting for the door, the mailman was different, clearly a private company worker, holding your package with both his hands, looking around as he waited for you to come up.

Package picked up, opened, and fiddled with. After 15 minutes, you sat in your living room muttering words into your translator, watching as it came to life, making some odd sounds in what you knew was the yautja language.

Now you could go talk to him, for real.

Picking up the pill bottle from the table, you sprinted up the trail again, regretting not bringing your water bottle as you reached the place where you last saw him, panting and a little red in the face.

You looked back up when you heard soft purring, a sound you hadn’t heard before but wished dearly to.

‘It means affection’ you recalled reading once from the article the first human to mate a yautja wrote, ‘Fondness’.

You straightened yourself, clearing your throat before looking up at him, “Um, hi, I- ah fuck,” you fiddled some more, producing your translator from your pocket, getting a curious look from the yautja before you.

“I hope this works” you muttered before lifting the device closer to your mouth and taking a deep breath. “Hi, I hope this translates what I’m saying decently, now, I’d please like to know what did you mean with this?” You said into it, waiting a second before it started its clicking noises.

The Yautja’s expression changed instantly, his eyes widening as he leaned forward to the sound of his language. He squinted as he kept listening, making you blush in embarrassment. God, was the translator that bad?

Upon hearing the last of the clicking, you lifted the pill bottle to him for emphasis, waiting for him to react.

He stood up straight again, eyeing the bottle he gave you a few days prior, still unopened. He extended his hand, shaking his head when you offered him the bottle, pointing instead to the translator in your other hand. “Oh, of course!” You handed it to him, watching as he had a look at the digital screen, apparently switching its mode from ‘Human to Yautja’ to ‘Yautja to Human’ seeing as the translator worked with just about every human language around the world.

Satisfied with the settings, he started speaking into it himself, gesturing to the pill bottle while he did so and then, to your surprise, to your face. This made you gasp a bit, your mind jumping to the worst conclusions possible. Did he think you were ugly? Well, you’d have to wait and see.

As he finished speaking, you both gave the translator a couple of seconds when a male voice spoke up, making you jump a bit, hands shaking in anticipation. “Hello. I thought you were sick. Whenever we had an encounter, you would make these strange expressions. I searched for them, the results were that what could be possibly making you have these...tics, was lack of sleep. The excessive blinking, biting your lips, involuntary facial pulling, all are the result of sleepless nights, excessive exhaustion, and the medicine for that is...that, for humans anyway.”

“WHAT?!” You yelled, snatching the translator back from his hand as he stared at you with yet another confused expression. “I was flirting with you! Flirting! I’m not sick!” You said, holding out the translator as it did its thing.

Confusion melting away into realization, he spoke again, not bothering to hold the translator but simply stepping closer to you.

“You were trying to court me?”

“Yes! I was winking at you! It’s a human thing!” You said, then realizing your mistake, “Oh...human thing...Ah fuck” You covered your face in embarrassment, “God, that’s why you always looked at me like that, I-”

“Would you still like to...court me?”

“Yes!” You said, head jerking up again so fast the yautja before you flinched a bit. “I-, yes.” You cleared your throat, a hard blush creeping its way across your face again.

“Good, it was my plan to court you too...after you had healed of your...sickness.” He said, chuckling, “Which apparently was no sickness at all.” He cleared as you squinted at him, “Well, I’m Yeyinde.” He said, “I’m glad we can finally communicate, always wanted to ask you a few things.”

You smiled, feeling that blush coming back again, “How about we go on a walk? Then we can talk about anything you want” You said, holding out your free hand for him to take.

“Of course,” He rumbled, massive hand closing gently around yours as you started walking up the rest of the trail.

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