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heisenbergsbuttercup · 2 years

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Imagine ♘ Karl Heisenberg

After escaping the village with Karl, you try to convince him to go to therapy.

Warnings: mental health, treatment for mental health // gender-neutral

Word Count: 1100+

❧

You marked the day on the calendar in thick bright blue, circling the date and sprawling the word ‘therapy’ across the entire square.

It had been a few weeks since you and Karl had successfully escaped the village and he accomplished his nearly lifelong plan of killing the woman who stole his vitality from him. You moved into a secluded farmhouse with help from Chris Redfield, who reluctantly agreed to allow you both privacy (at least as much as he could give while also keeping subtle surveillance) and an attempt at a normal lifestyle.

Karl always said he just needed to kill her, needed to free himself from her evil clutch, and then everything would be alright. He would be alright — happy. For decades, he placed the weight of his happiness on the future, on his plans. It kept him sane. Every unhappy day living underground and throwing himself into work would be worth it because he would be happy.

And now… he didn’t know what to do. Sure, he planned for this; he wanted this. But now that it was here, he didn’t know how to live without constantly being in a state of survival. He didn’t have soldats and experiments to throw himself into. He didn’t have to hide his treasonous thoughts and emotions. He could just live, and he could be anything he wanted. This new life with you could be anything he wanted… if only he knew what that was.

He tried to hide the way it affected him. Less from you and more from himself. He didn’t want to admit that everything he worked for was not everything he thought it would be. But you knew him well, better than he knew himself some days, and you could see his hurt. The nightmares that would wake him up in screams and sweats. The bursts of anger over minuscule things. The abundance of cigar butts that littered the entire property. The days he would get up and throw himself into fixing the shit-box truck Chris gifted. The days he wouldn’t leave bed. The long showers he took that you could hear muffled sobs. The nights he held you closer than usual.

It was decades of abuse and oppression he needed to face. It was decades of survival instincts he needed to learn how to live without. It was normality he needed to learn how to live with.

“Karl?” You called out from the front porch to the man tucked under the truck. “I made lunch. Will you come inside?”

“I’m bus—“ He began, and then paused. You knew the realization that hit him. He was busy, but it could wait. Neither of your lives depended on the work he was doing now. He rolled himself out from under the truck. “Comin’, buttercup.”

He walked toward you, dirty and sweaty, wearing a pair of jeans and a tight green tank top with his hair loosely tied into a messy bun at the nape of his neck. He hadn’t worn the same attire from the factory since you got here. Although everything was still always paired with his necklaces, sunglasses, and hat. He kissed you gently before walking into the house to wash his hands as you plated the food.

After a few bites, to allow him to settle in and allow you to gain the courage for this conversation, you began to speak.

“I want to talk to you about something. You might not like it, but I think it’ll be a good thing.”

His eyes apprehensively shot up to yours.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it. I don’t expect you to, but I also know you’ve been having a hard time since we got here and… I scheduled you a therapy appointment.”

The silverware clanged against his dish as he let it drop, hands curling into fists on either side of the plate. His eyes squeezed shut, controlling his anger, probably counting back from ten — a technique you had taught him in your early days of the factory.

“I care about you, Karl, and—“

“And you want me to cry to some random bitch about how mommy was mean to me?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. Patience. He needed patience.

“It’s a man. I thought you’d be more comfortable with a man.”

He scoffed and slumped back into his chair with arms crossed against his chest. He shook his head and chewed on his bottom lip.

“You need help. You’ve been through a lot, more than any person should ever have to. And, I’m here for you, always — but I can’t fix everything, as much as I want to.”

His jaw clenched. You waited for an outburst, but nothing came. Nothing except a low, simple statement.

“So have you.”

The corners of your mouth curled upwards slightly. “I know. I made an appointment for myself too, with a woman. Chris recommended them. We can be honest with them, about everything. We aren’t hiding anymore.”

You reached across the table, holding your palm up for him to accept when he was ready.

“We’re building our life together, Karl, and we’re going to be happy, but we need to build our foundation first. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. He can even just help you plan moving forward. It’s whatever you want it to be.”

He stared at your hand, unmoving.

“Are you leaving me?” He asked. “Is that what this is? I go bitch to some prick about my issues or you leave me? I—“

“No.”

You moved around the table and knelt beside him, hands gripping his thighs as you looked up to him with pleading eyes.

“This is not an ultimatum. I made the appointment, and I would like you to go because I think it will help you, help us, but if you don’t, that’s okay too.”

You cupped his cheek gently. He naturally leaned into your touch, tears glistening in his eyes.

“I will never leave you, never. Don’t think for one second I would go anywhere. I love you. You are mine, and I am yours, and we will spend the rest of our lives together.”

A single tear trailed down his cheek onto your hand.

“Will you come with me?”

“I… Yes, my love, of course. I’ll be right beside you, until you’re ready to go on your own, if you’re ready.”

His hands gripped your wrist and yanked you upward to pull you into his lap. His arms wrapped around you tightly, face nuzzling into your neck. Your fingers tangled into his hair, soothing him as you knew how.

He was disheartened, fatalistic… but holding you… he knew everything would be okay, and so did you.

#karl heisenberg #resident evil village #re8 heisenberg #re8 #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil heisenberg #karl heisenberg fanfic #karl heisenberg imagine #fanfic #imagine #chris redfield

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xjoonchildx · 1 year

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sooo i have a question yall plz help a girl out 😭

i just got back from a business trip out of state for a few days and my roommate went to pick me up at the airport because he insisted. and the second i saw him i just… ran and throw myself at him all dramatic like literally wrapping my legs around his waist and he spun me around and around and his hands were on my ass and his face was on my neck and it felt really nice, but then we just paused and looked at each other and he let me go and things got weird after that like… the entire car ride it was silent. and then once we got home he acted all weird like he couldn’t get away from me soon enough, practically bolted to his room and locked himself in.

truth is… i do know that i have feelings for him, have had them for a while now. what im not sure of is if he feels the same way, and im scared my random burst of unwanted physical affection has officially weirded him out. but i can’t stop thinking about how he insisted on picking me up (he said why would i waste money on uber when he had nothing better to do at home anyway?) and the way he caught me in his arms and spun me. SPUN ME. AROUND AND AROUND. and i wasn’t imagining his hands squeezing my butt.

i don’t know what to do. my best friend is convinced he also has feelings but i don’t know what to make of the way he acted after the hug™. like what if he was just caught in the moment so once it hit him he was like oh shit what if she thinks i like her…

im so scared i’ve ruined everything. he’s been my roommate for the past 3 years and i really don’t want to lose him…

oh hot DAMN, anon 😭

if this were a fic, you guys would be filed under @hobi-gif 's two stupids who can't stop stupiding with one another but we forgive them because it's super cute tbh column. i mean...he twirled you?

as far as i'm concerned, the hug™ case is closed 🤣

and then after the hug™ he went to his room and you went to your room and both of ya'll were paralyzed by the feelings and afraid to make a single move that could go wrong because let's keep it real rent is high and it's hard to find people to trust and --

there are going to be a thousand reasons not to take a leap of faith but there's one really good reason to take it.

TAKE IT ANON!

⁽ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ ⁱⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ᵗʰʳᵒʷˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᵘᵗ⁾

#anagrams 💕

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mushroomstears · 1 year

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Alone Together

AN: This is a fic of mine from a WHILE ago on wattpad- I've improved since don't worry.

Lyssa spun around in a wheeled office chair, letting her almost white blonde hair fly around freely. Diana sat and watched from a normal chair against the wall and smiled slightly, letting her friend have her fun before Caine ruined it by throwing another tantrum.

It was just the two girls in the mayor's office, Drake and Caine being called off to deal with some random matter. That left the girls with some alone time and not much to do other than spin around in swivel chairs like Lyssa was currently doing.

"Don't you get dizzy doing that?" Diana asked, huffing out a laugh as her friend kept going. "Kinda, it's not too bad though...." Lyssa replied, giving another kick to boost her speed.

Just then Caine bursted in, getting a face full of almost white hair as a greeting. Lyssa skidded herself to a stop and tried not to laugh, Caine ignored her and went straight do the desk. Drake followed in after and shut the door, leaning against the wall behind Lyssa.

"So, what happened 'o wise leader?" Diana asked, watching as Caine rifled through papers in the desk drawers. He ignored her question and kept rummaging, acting as if though he were the only one in the room.

"Some kids started a fight and used magic, bunch of others came and saw it go down. Then they started blaming Caine and us, thinking that Coats kids ruin everything." Drake explained as Caine continued his search.

Lyssa pushed her chair back and flew into Drake, he caught her and huffed out a small laugh. "Well I mean we do, we've forced them to live in fear. We took away a lot of the freedoms that they had before, and we're even lording over them like gods." Lyssa countered, keeping her voice light but explanatory. Drake ran his fingers through her long pale hair and sighed, muttering something along the lines of "Yeah but we can't let them know that."

Diana fake gagged and rolled her eyes at the show of affection, catching Lyssa's attention and making her stick her tongue out. Caine finally pulled out a rusted old key and smiled victoriously at it, the others simply looked in confusion. Even Drake seemed baffled at the item Caine had been looking for, Diana was the first to react and ask what it was for.

"I can't tell you that, it's extremely important that no one follow me. Diana, go home. You two, go and fuck or whatever. But do not follow me once I leave this building, got it?" Caine asked in a condescending tone, the three others reluctantly nodded and watched as he stormed out of the office.

They all waited a few minutes after Caine had left, giving him enough time to go do whatever the hell he was about to do. Eventually Diana stood, stretching before walking to the door. "I'm gonna go find somewhere to sleep for a bit since I don't have to deal with Caine anymore. Also, Lyssa, remember to use protection~" She said in a sing-song voice, earning a slap on the arm from Lyssa before walking out.

Drake growled at Diana's comment, running his hand through Lyssa's hair more aggressively. He pulled several knots and caused Lyssa to yelp in pain, she was extremely tender headed at the lower back and it hurt extra bad when Drake pulled the knots.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry I didn't mean to. Are you okay?" Drake asked in a worried tone when Lyssa's hand went to the back of her head. "Yeah, I'm fine." She sighed, feeling the spot where her hair was pulled.

"You know she was just joking right? She didn't actually mean anything by it." Lyssa explained, turning her head back to look up at Drake. He sighed and muttered an 'I know' before kissing her on the forehead.

"I want to go home, you coming?" The girl asked, her blue eyes sparkling as the light hit them just right. Drake took her hand and pulled her out of the chair, opening the door for her as she walked.

They made their way outside where it was already sunset, golden light pouring over the town of Perdido Beach and making it look like king Midas had strolled through with his special touch.

"Are Howard and Orc gonna be at the house?" Lyssa asked as they walked down the streets, hand in hand since no one was out to see them.

"If they are ill make 'em leave." Drake kissed Lyssa's temple and they kept walking, she reveled in his affection towards her. Especially since they haven't been able to show any at all to each other in case some townie kid might try to use Lyssa against Drake. She understood though, but soon they wouldn't have to hide anything anymore. Soon they would take over and kick Caine out of office, Drake wanted to get rid of Diana as well but was yelled at by Lyssa for it.

Eventually they reached the house, letting go of one another's hands in case Howard and Orc were there. Sure enough they were, Orc drinking beer sprawled out on the couch next to Howard who kept shoving candy in his mouth. The two of them turned to see Drake and Lyssa standing in front of the doorway, clearly showing displeasure in the existence of the two boys.

"You two, out. Go find somewhere else to be for the night." Drake said in his low menacing voice, to be honest Lyssa loved when he talked like that. It sent chills up her spine and made her woozy in the head.

Howard scoffed and turned back to the T.V., shoveling more junk in his face. "Why? So you can go fuck that whore upstairs? No thanks man-" He was cut off as Lyssa took away his vision, letting Drake punch him in the face three times. Howard spit out a blood covered tooth on the ground, Lyssa restored his vision and Howard trembled.

Orc growled and picked up his beer, taking it out the door with Howard following to do the same. Lyssa stopped him short, pushing him down and shoving her foot onto his chest to pin him down. "Ah ah ah, not so fast little pest. First you have to apologize." Lyssa said, watching Howard squirm under her patheticly.

"A-alright I'm sorry! Please let me go." Howard begged, trying to push her off of him. "Mmm, no. What are you sorry for?" Lyssa inquired with a sadistic grin, Drake watched and smiled as she humiliated Howard.

"I-I'm sorry I called you a whore.... I-I won't do it again." Lyssa listened to the amendment and raised an eyebrow, she knew that wasn't true. He would still call her all kinds of names, just not to her or Drake's faces. Still though, she let him go. Once Howard and Orc were far gone Drake walked over and pulled Lyssa close.

"It gets me excited when you do shit like that." He smirked and wrapped his arms around her waist. Lyssa smiled and twirled his hair in her fingers, smiling with a glint in her eyes.

"I know."

Drake scooped Lyssa up and held his arms underneath her to give some support, she wrapped her legs around him and held in as he started up the stairs. He kicked his bedroom door open and used the back of his heel to shut it, then tossed the girl onto his bed.

Lyssa giggled as Drake leaned over her and started to run kisses along her neck, sucking bruises in some spots. "Don't make them too obvious Drakie, I still wanna be able to wear low collar shirts." Lyssa joked, felling Drake sink his teeth into her flesh. She shivered with pleasure and her breath hitched, catching Drake's attention and making him smile.

Lyssa raised her leg against his side, feeling her skirt slide down her leg as she did so. She also felt a slight bulge growing in in his pants, and started to lightly grind against it. Drake growled and grabbed onto her raised leg, clenching her thigh tightly. Lyssa felt the blood flush her face, heating her face up quickly.

"Be a good girl and wait." Drake ordered in a voice she hadn't heard him use before, it turned her on quickly though. She swallowed the saliva accumulating in her mouth and nodded, mumbling a quick "Yes sir." at him.

Drake continued to suck and bite on Lyssa's neck, leaving bruises until he moved back up and started to kiss her mouth. She tugged on the back of his shaggy blond hair as they made out, causing him to squeeze her thigh tighter and the bulge to grow bigger.

He bit down on her bottom lip and she allowed him entrance, feeling his tongue explore around in her mouth. The room quickly filled with clothes rustling and heated breaths, their heart rates quickening as they went.

Eventually the two pulled away for air, gasping as a thin trail of saliva connected them together. Drake pulled a little farther away to look down at Lyssa, breaking the thread of spit. He studied her underneath him, watching her expression and not saying anything.

"See something you like?" Lyssa asked as she locked her fingers together behind his neck. Drake chuckled and held his finger on her chin and his thumb underneath it to hold her in place.

He leaned down to her ear and paused for a second, listening to her breathing. "Just wait until I rip those clothes off of you." That made Lyssa pull her legs closer together, trying to close them but only to be stopped by Drake pulling her leg back.

"Don't get shy now princess, the fun is just beginning." Lyssa's face flushed at the words, she felt Drake put his forearm next to her head and pin her down. He played with parts of her hair while keeping her in place, not seeming to be paying attention to her anymore.

Lyssa swallowed the excess spit in her mouth and watched as Drake played with her hair, then suddenly she felt a hand messing with the hem of her panties. She looked down to see that Drake's hand had moved without her knowing and was now dangerously close to her clit.

"Something wrong princess?" Drake asked, turning back to face her. She flicked her attention to him and shook her head. "No sir."

Drake's thumb flicked across Lyssa's pussy from over her panties, causing a reaction from the girl. "Submitting already hm? 'Sir', I like the sound of that." Drake muttered as he flicked his thumb again, watching the girl beneath him's reaction.

Lyssa whimpered as Drake added more pressure and flicked his thumb a few more times just to watch her squirm beneath him. He used his hand beside her head to undo the buttons on her shirt, peeling the flaps of her shirt back to reveal her chest.

He slipped her shirt off and grabbed her breast, squeezing it before unclipping the front hook and pulling her bra off. She now laid bare in front of him, letting him touch her to his hearts desire.

Drake leaned down and started to suck on her breast, leaving purple and blue bruises on her open chest. He moved down to her stomach and began to suck there, eventually reaching the top of her Coats skirt.

He pushed Lyssa's leg down and pulled her skirt off of her, leaving her in just panties. She reached for his shirt to unbutton it, feeling it was fair that she saw him if he saw her.

Drake grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from his shirt. "Ah ah ah princess, I'm in charge here." He said, looking down at her and smirking devilishly.

"Then could you just fuck me already?" Lyssa asked bluntly, watching as Drake's smirk wiped off his face. She felt as his grip on her wrist tightened and his other hand went to her throat, choking her as he leaned down to her level.

"I'll take as long as I want to fuck you. Don't get bratty with me, I will punish you." He said, watching as she began to run out of breath.

He held on for a few extra seconds until she was audibly gasping, then let go and watched as she shuddered and breathed in deeply. Drake gave her a second before putting his hand back on her neck and pinning her down, then slipped two fingers into her panties.

Lyssa moaned as Drake moved his fingers around inside of her, keeping a somewhat steady motion. Then he curled his fingers inwards and she moaned, feeling the pleasure wrack through her body and start to knot in her stomach.

Lewd sounds escaped her as he continued to thrust his fingers inside of her, then he stuck in another. Lyssa moaned again and arched her back. The knot in her stomach grew bigger as Drake went, until eventually she was close.

"D-drake I-" She stuttered, moaning as Drake kept going. He seemed to get the message and suddenly stopped fingering her, sliding out his fingers before she could finish.

Lyssa audibly whimpered as Drake also pulled his hand from her neck, he began to undo his belt and zipper. Lyssa quickly pushed herself against the pillows and got comfortable, then Drake hopped onto the bed in front of her.

He pulled her panties off then placed her legs on either side of his waist. He pumped his member a few times, then began to slide it in slowly.

Lyssa felt the pain of him entering her and cringed, clenching one of the pillows as he went. Drake saw her expression and stopped, not moving in case of causing an injury.

"You good?" He asked, holding her legs on his sides. She nodded and gave him the okay to keep going, he began to push himself in and out of her.

The pain quickly slid away and was replaced by pleasure, Drake picked up the pace and exhaled. Lyssa moaned loudly as Drake fucked himself into her, using her legs to pull her into him.

Grunting and slapping sounds quickly filled the room as the bed rocked back and forth with their movements, loud moaning came from Lyssa as she was fucked into the bed roughly.

"Harder...." She begged, rolling her head back to reveal her bruised neck. Drake gripped it and pounded into her, watching as she let pleasure fog her mind.

"What was that slut? Who are you talking to?" He asked cockily, reveling in the power he got from domming her.

"H-harder daddy, please..." She moaned, Drake happily complied to her request. He raised her leg up to his shoulder and turned her slightly onto her side, he continued to fuck himself into her roughly.

The moaning grew louder and any kids just outside could hear them, the bed headboard banged against the wall as Drake thrusted himself in and out of Lyssa.

Her eyes rolled back into her head as he hit her G-spot, she felt his cock stiffen up and let the knot in her stomach loosen. She came on his dick and screamed in pleasure as he came inside of her.

Drake thrusted a few more times before pulling out, he watched as the cum leaked out of her. Then he opened her legs and put his face in between them, she felt his tongue move around inside of her and collect as much cum as possible.

Drake sat back up then used his thumb to hook into and open Lyssa's mouth, he spit the cum into her mouth and had her swallow. "No point in wasting it." He said before getting up to grab a towel and clean off.

She stayed there on the bed until he came back and cleaned her off, then pulled back the thrown about covers and laid beside her. "That was great, you were great." He said without looking at her, she closed her eyes and turned onto her side. She snuggled into him and wrapped her arm around him, he played with her hair as the night went on outside.

They both laid there until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

#drake merwin #oc x cc

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kingreywrites · 3 years

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god Rapunzel with spiky and messy short hair truly is her best look

#she just!!! looks amazing this way and i love her so much #imo the series straightened it out too much... it's pretty but it doesn't have the same vibe #tts rambles #this is random i just got hit by a burst of affection for her

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celestial-kit · 3 years

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Halloween Night

This is part one in a two part series. All characters are 18+.

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x reader

Warnings: minors DNI, slight NSFW themes, jealousy, alcohol consumption, slut shaming (?)

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Tsukishima never liked Halloween. As a kid, he never understood the appeal of dressing up in a ridiculous costume and going out with a pillow case to beg for candy. His disdain for Halloween did not dissipate as he got older, he just found new things to be annoyed with. He hated how his friends begged him to go out to the crowded bars, dressed up in matching costumes. He hated watching people use the holiday as an excuse to get drunk. And he hated that every year you would dress up in some skimpy outfit and find some random guy to make out with.

He wasn’t jealous, obviously. Tsukishima just didn’t like seeing one of his close friends embarrass herself like that. He hated to see you get so sloppy drunk that you couldn’t walk home at the end of the night, and he hated seeing strangers grope and paw at you in your little skirt and grind against you every chance they got. One year he found you in a corner in someone’s lap, tongues shoved down each other's throats and your skirt hoisted up around your waist, showing off your sheer underwear and dripping pussy. He left you there, seeing as you seemed content with the arrangement, and found you the next hour in someone else's arms, their hands under your top, groping your breasts as your head fell back on your shoulders with a blissed out look on your face.

You were a slut. Tsukishima hated to admit it, but you were. You loved the attention you got when you went out, you welcomed any advances from any decently attractive person, and you had no shame letting someone publicly defile you, as long as it felt good.

This year, his friends decided that they wanted to dress up as the gang from Scooby Doo. Tsukishima was quick to decline, but the excited look on Yamaguchi’s face and your puppy dog eyes made him give in quicker than he would like to admit. So now he was here, at this bar, dressed in an itchy white sweater and orange ascot. He nursed his drink at the bar as he watched you, his Daphne, laugh at a joke that probably wasn’t even that funny that some guy told you as he leaned close enough to cast his eyes down your cleavage. You slapped his chest flirtatiously as he seemingly teased you for something before leaning down closer and capturing your lips in a kiss, his hand immediately running up the backs of your thighs until they were under your skirt and gripping your ass.

Tsukishima had to look away at this point, searching the room for Yamaguchi’s green shirt. They made eye contact and Yamaguchi started making his way towards his friend, obviously noting the disgruntled look on his face. As he approached, he set the plush Scooby Doo that he’d been carrying around on the counter of the bar and leaned his shoulder against his friend.

“Hey Tsukki! Having fun?” a wide grin stretched across Yamaguchi’s face, the alcohol he’d consumed affecting him.

Tsukishima just rolled his eyes, “I don’t know why you always insist on bringing me out with you on Halloween.”

Yamaguchi laughed at the blonde, “You know, you probably wouldn’t be so miserable coming out with us if you just made a move on her yourself.” Tsukishima’s eyes widened a little before they narrowed at his drunk friend.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled, looking away with annoyance.

“Aw, come on! You know she only hits on other people because you ignore her when we come out. She wants to make you jealous. I bet if you gave her some attention, you’d both have a much better time,” Yamaguchi patted Tsukishima’s shoulder with a sly grin. He knew his friend too well, but Tsukishima was stubborn and refused to give in to what Yamaguchi was insinuating.

“She only wants my attention because she’s a slut. She’s already slept with half the town, so she’s running out of options,” Tsukishima’s words spit out like venom. He’s mad that Yamaguchi thinks he likes you, he’s mad that you always find someone to hang off of when you’re around him, and he’s mad that, deep down, he knows he’s incredibly jealous.

“Wow,” you say behind Tsukishima’s back. He turns around, not realizing that you were standing there. You had a glass in each hand, seemingly coming back to the bar to get a refill. Your cheeks are red, and Tsukishima’s not sure if they’re flushed from drinking, kissing, or anger. You puff your chest up before setting the glasses on the bar and turning to head out of the building.

Tsukishima curses under his breath and chases after you, pushing through the crowd to keep up with your smaller form. He sees you make it past the crowd of sweaty dancers and burst through the front door. In his haste to reach you, he bumps into several people who spill their drinks down the front of his sweater.

Finally, he makes it out the front door and sees you stumbling down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartment. He catches up quickly, telling you to wait and grabbing your arm, which you firmly shake out of his grasp. You turn on your heels to face him, face even more red and tears spilling down your cheeks.

“You’re an asshole, Tsukishima! Fuck you,” you slur your words as you speak, but Tsukishima can still feel the venom behind them. It hurts him, and he knows that he fucked up. He grabs your shoulders and holds you firm despite your attempts to wiggle away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says this as calmly as he can but he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. Now that you’re closer, he can see how your mascara has smeared from your tears and sweat and he can see a bruise starting to form on your neck from that loser you were making out with not even 10 minutes ago. Tsukishima can feel anger start to well in his chest at the thought that someone had left marks on you. You scoff at him and wiggle one of your shoulders free, using your free arm to push at his shoulder.

“So what, you don’t think I’m a slut? You just said it to Tadashi as a joke or something?” you sniffle and stumble forward a little as you continue to push at him. He wraps an arm around your waist to try to steady you.

“Well, I do think you’re a slut, but I probably shouldn’t have said it out loud,” a smirk graces his face as he sees your mouth fall open in shock. Your hands ball up into little fists and you punch at his chest to try to get out of his grasp.

“Fuck you! I hate you, Tsukishima,” you shout at him, and he can feel his anger boil over, his feelings and the alcohol he’d consumed pushing him over the edge and causing him to do something he wouldn’t normally do. The arm he had around your waist tightens while his other hand comes to press between your shoulder blades, pushing you up into him so that he could crush his mouth against yours.

You squeal at his sudden action, eyes staring at him as he gauges your reaction. You push at his shoulders again, and he pulls back, not taking his arms off you but giving you space to breathe. You just look at each other for a moment as you take in what just happened. It slowly clicks in your head that Tsukishima just kissed you, and you can feel warmth spread across your chest before you reach up to fist his sweater and bring him back down to kiss you again.

This time, Tsukishima isn’t as hesitant, he’s firm as he presses into your mouth, tongue meeting yours and you moan as you feel his fingertips dig into your back, trying to pull you closer to him. In the distance, you hear whistles and cheers, and it occurs to you both that you’re still in a public setting. One of Tsukishima’s hands snakes its way up your back to bury itself in your hair, then he pulls your head back with a force that makes you hiss. You whimper and you feel your knees wobble under you and heat pool in your stomach as he glares at you with hungry eyes.

“You’re a slut,” he whispers to you, giving you goosebumps, his husky tone giving away just how turned on he is. “But you’re my slut.” Then, he’s grabbing your hand and pulling you down the sidewalk. You stumble as you try to keep up, a little confused.

“Where are we going?�� You ask, breathless.

With a smirk, Tsukishima turns to look at you out of the corner of his eye. “Your apartment. If you’re going to act like a slut, then I’m going to fuck you like one.”

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei smut

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helpimhyperfixating · 3 years

Text

A Writer’s Trouble - Jotaro x Reader

Word Count: 3353

You were a writer. Quietly in class just writing whatever scenes came to your head when the material being taught was too complicated for you to understand or too boring. And at home, you busied yourself with fanfiction every now and then. When you enjoy shows, why not write some fan content for them right?

"Miss Y/N!"

The sound of your name being called made you shoot up in your seat, eyes wide.

All eyes of the class were on you, the teacher holding a stern expression. "That better be notes that you are taking." She crossed her arms and your cheeks started to burn slightly while you frantically nodded, not finding your voice to verbally answer. Clearly the teacher was not convinced by the look she gave you, but she just let it slide and continued on with the lesson.

After what felt like forever, the bell rung for lunch and as you were starting to pack up, suddenly two people surrounded your little table. Looking up, you saw two girls who were notoriously popular standing next to you. One sat down in the seat next to you while the other dragged a chair in front of your table and sat down right in front of you, a sweet smile on her face.

"Hi!" The one in front started and you leaned back a little.

"H-Hi?"

"We noticed you were writing something in class and we were just curious what."

This made you blink a few times in surprise. Why would they be interested in what a random girl is writing? "Why?"

This time, the one sitting next to you spoke up. "Well you see, I've been having trouble finding books I like recently. The ones in the school library are not really what I want but I snuck a peek of what you were doing in class just now and your writing seemed really good!" This caused a small blush to erupt on your cheeks. Not only because of the random compliment that came out of nowhere, but more so because of the fact she read what you had been writing. During class you were bored and your mind had drifted so you had written a random romantic scenario, and now she had read that?

"O-Oh?" You squeaked. She gave you a grin and you swallowed. "Uhm, thanks I guess."

"Could I read more?"

The question caught you off guard and to be honest, you just wanted to have lunch. But it seemed like you were going to have to eat it here with these two cause they didn't seem to have any intent to go away.

"Sure..." You weren't too comfortable with sharing most of your writing but there were a few random scenes and scenarios you thought these two would enjoy that you didn't mind sharing. You saw them every morning in the gaggle hanging around Kujo so you figured they'd like some cheesy romantic stuff. Bending down to sift through your bag, you got out your map/folder filled with pages that held the scenes and sifted through them, pulling out a few. "Here but do-" they were snatched from your hands before you could finish your sentence. "...be careful with them."

"Of course, of course." They both just dismissively waved and started reading them. At least they didn't run off with them, that was a plus.

You still had no idea what they were up to and you figured it wasn't to suddenly make friends with you. But you always had a hard time turning people down and they were acting nice to you, so why shouldn't you act nice back?

While they read you just got your lunch out of your bag and started eating it. You had nothing better to do anyways.

Lunch was slowly coming to a close and both girls finished reading.

"Ohhh, that was so romantic~" The one in front of you wistfully mused out, holding her chin in her hand as she dreamily stared at the ceiling.

"Yes, it was so good!" The one next to you said. Maybe you should learn their names instead of referring to them as 'girl' and 'girl but sitting next to you'. "It almost makes me wish for more."

Raising a sceptical eyebrow, you looked at her, urging her to continue because you figured this was the whole reason they were here. "Well, since you write this I was wondering, do you take requests?~"

You hummed a bit, looking between the two. They shared a look and there was a glint in their eye that you recognised but couldn't recall where you had seen them look like that before. "I've never done so before but maybe. What would you want?"

"Could you write me in such a scene with Jojo!?" The one next to you blurted out all of a sudden, making you visibly flinch back from the sudden burst of noise.

"No no! Please write it with me! My personality fits perfectly with the one in this story already!"

You were now being barraged with requests of romantic scenarios and begging to write them, all the while you just sat, blinking.

Of course. Of course. They were Kujo fan girls #1 and #2 so of course they would want this. You never understood why they kept trying to win his affection when he oh so clearly showed he was not interested.

I mean, you could see the appeal. He was tall dark and handsome, and the thought of a stoic man who loves no one making an exception for you was prime romantic material. But even you - who was as dense as an oakwood plank - even you knew when something was hopeless. You had never pursued the man. You respected his privacy and wishes. To you, he was just another classmate who just so happened to be hounded by half the female population.

"Ehh..." You started, trying to stop the girls from losing their mind and drooling over the delinquent - who wasn't even present - right then and there.

It took a second but both girls stopped and expectantly turned to you. The pure stars in their eyes made it very hard for you to say what you were about to say but you had to.

"I don't mind writing something for you. But I can't write something with Kujo in it. It just makes me very uncomfortable to write real people into a romantic scenario without them knowing of it. It just feels wrong." You put your hand up in a surrendering and calming gesture, hoping that would help defuse the bomb that was surely being built judging from their expressions. "If you had his permission and you both wanted it then it is a different story, but-"

"I have his permission! Jojo loves me, so of course he would want this!" The girl in front burst out, only for her 'friend' to turn to her.

"That's not true, he loves me!"

"No, me!"

"Me!"

This continued on and you slowly slunk back in your seat. You would have sunken under the table and made your escape that way, but one of the girls was sitting right in your path of exit. You were literally caged in between two fighting tigers, getting more and more ready to bite each other's heads off.

Just then, the door slammed open and both girls instantly shut up. In stepped the precise person of discussion and you only sunk further down into your seat, just wanting to disappear and be left alone.

"Oh! Jojo!~"

"Jojo! Why don't you come sit with us! I missed you!"

Jotaro viewed the class, seeing just you three in it, only for him to stride over to his desk, grab something he had left behind, and walk back out. He only spared you all a single glance and dread settled in your stomach. You were sitting with the two girls he probably hated most since they pestered him day in day out. What if he thought you were part of them now as well? What if he started to hate you too? Would he beat you up if you happened to run into each other outside of school?

Just then, the bell rung and to your surprise, both girls just sighed and stood up, starting to walk back to their own spots and leaving you without any further begging or questions. It left you a bit confused and wary of why they so suddenly seemed to forget you turned down writing about their dreamboat but just shrugged it off, hoping that was that.

- - - -

Three weeks had passed just like that. The girls had left you alone after that weird lunch and thankfully enough, Kujo seemed no more aware of your existence than before. Life continued on as normal and you just stayed your happy, quiet self.

"Hey, Y/N!"

You smiled at your best friend who was sitting at a table in the cafeteria, obnoxiously waving at you.

Quickly hurrying over, you grabbed her hand and yanked it down, sending apologetic glances to the people who had turned their heads to see the commotion. "Do you have to be so loud every time, B/F?"

"Of course." She grinned before pulling you down to sit with her. The unexpected action caused you to yelp and lose your balance. Instead of sitting down as intended, you were now splayed over B/F's lap who was cackling loudly at you.

"Oi, this is your fault! Shut it!" You laughed back and playfully hit her shoulder, making her let out an obnoxious 'oww' and rub it as you sat up.

"Y/N, you're always so mean to me." She pouted and you rolled your eyes. If there is one thing you certainly weren't it was mean.

"Well how can I make it up to you then, my dearest?" You played along, clasping your hands in front of you in a begging manner.

"Let me read your latest brain creations." She grinned and you drew your lips into a thin line. She knew you preferred to keep most writing to yourself because by god, sometimes you would create some abominations you wouldn't want anyone in the world to see. These of course, were the ones B/F loved most, cause she could make fun of you for them. You didn't seem to have another choice for now though, since B/F would most likely do something way worse if you didn't comply.

"Alright, alright." You sighed and hoisted your bag up, pulling your map with writings out and starting to thumb through them. "Huh." You remarked, a bit surprised.

"What?"

"It's not there. I could have sworn I put it in here." You hummed, grabbing your history notebook. You had written this piece in history class and thus it should be in there. But when you reached the most recent page, it was torn out, an indication that you should have already put it in your folder. "Oh god. I must have dropped it somewhere..." You went absolutely pale and B/F burst out laughing.

"Sucks to be you I guess!"

You only groaned and let your head fall to the table. Now there was a cheesy romance scene lost in the school! You just hoped someone would pick up the random page and throw it in the trash.

- - - -

~One week later~

You were the first one sitting in the cafeteria for once. Just patiently waiting for B/F, you twiddled your thumbs as you were mindlessly tracing the grooves in the table in front of you.

A hand suddenly slammed down right in your vision and you jumped in your seat. Quickly tracing the arm up to be met with an angrily glaring pair of aqua blue eyes.

"Get up." Jotaro said in a deep and demanding tone but you were frozen in your seat, just staring at him in slight fear.

"Do I have to repeat myself, bitch?" He harshly stated and you quickly stood up, going to grab your bag so you could let him have this table and find a new one for you and your friend, but instead, his hand clamped down on your shoulder, bunching the fabric there and dragging you off with him, leaving your bag behind.

By now, all the people in the cafeteria were staring and you were just scared shitless. What the hell did you do for him to want to beat you up?! He dragged you with him out of the cafeteria, through the halls and out the doors, moving to the back of the school before throwing you in front of him.

You stumbled a bit but luckily stayed on your feet, quickly turning back to look at him, taking a few steps back until your back hit the wall behind you.

"What-"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" His voice cut you off and you shut your mouth. He seemed absolutely seething, towering over your tiny form as he glared from beneath his hat. It was quiet for a second, you just staring at him with wide eyes. "Well? Do I have to beat the shit out of you to get you to stop?" He threateningly raised his fist and you finally snapped out of your scared state, going defensive.

"No wait! I have no idea what you're talking about!" You frantically blurted out, waving your hands in front of yourself.

Jotaro, no less annoyed than before pulled something out of his jacket before slamming it right next to your head, holding it there. You squeaked at the action, now fully trapped with no escape.

"This is what I'm talking about." He was leaning down to be eye to eye with you now, caging you in with his arm right next to your head. His free hand was pointing to where he held his other hand and you turned your head to see what he meant.

Beneath his fingers lay a piece of paper, clearly crumpled up and unrolled several times. Unsure of what it was, you lifted your hand and took hold of the corner, making sure not to touch Jotaro's hand in fear that that would make him deck you.

Thankfully, he removed his hand from the wall and took a step back, giving you some personal space again and allowing you to grab the paper and read it.

Smoothening it out, you started reading.

Jotaro kept a close eye on your reactions, a little wary of how clueless you were appearing to be. As you started skimming the page, your eyes widened, almost immediately followed by a furrowing of your brows. You looked confused, but as your eyes got further and further down the page, it turned to angry.

Jotaro squinted his eyes at you, only to be surprised when you suddenly crumpled up the paper, pure hate radiating off of you. "Those goddamn bitches..." Of course, he never showed any surprise, keeping his stoic facade but to say Jotaro was intrigued was an understatement.

Turning to look at him, all fear you previously had was gone, replaced by anger. "This wasn't me." You held up the paper. Hitting it once, you ground your teeth. "Those girls stole my work and put your name in it."

Sceptical, Jotaro raised an eyebrow, still glaring down at you. But his stance was now more aloof than it was threatening and you took it as a sign to explain what you were talking about.

"Your fangirl number 1 and 2 asked me a while ago to write about you, I refused and it seems they took matters into their own hands." You turned around as you said that, looking at the school and glaring at it, as if that would do any good.

"So you didn't write it?" Crossing his arms, Jotaro was still looking down on you and you turned back to face him.

"Oh no, I did." You said and un-crumpled the paper, holding it up for him and pointing to a very specific point. "That's supposed to say 'B' though, not 'Jotaro'. I never write character names, just A and B cause honestly? fuck coming up with names."

Jotaro scoffed a little in amusement and then let out a heavy sigh. "It seemed too competent to come from them indeed."

You couldn't help but laugh loudly at his statement, accidentally causing you to drop the paper. "Woops." You said through laughs and picked it up, calming down as you stood up straight again. "Sorry this happened by the way." You then said and Jotaro sent you a questioning look. "I don't write about real people for a reason and this is exactly why. It's just wrong to do without permission."

Jotaro hummed and you suddenly realised who exactly you were talking to.

Awkwardly clearing your throat, you just put the paper in your pocket. "I'll make sure they won't be able to steal any more of my writing so if it works, you won't have to worry about seeing terribly written cheesy romantic scenes anymore. Apart from maybe their own attempts at it." You chuckled at that last bit and looked up to cross eyes with Jotaro.

There seemed to be a somewhat amused glint in them, putting you at ease.

Just then, you remembered a thing and you opened your mouth before abruptly closing it. Following it up with a deep breath. "Okay maybe you will still see some come by for the next few days. I left my bag in the cafeteria, unmanned and unsupervised. Prime chance for some grubby hands to go through it."

"Let's go make sure they fuck off before they plunder the entire thing then."

Jotaro simply turned around while you blinked, pleasantly surprised before you sprinted to catch up with him.

You both walked around the school in quiet, moving to the front doors so you could re-enter again and make your way to the cafeteria.

"I don't mean to pry," You started after a little bit and saw Jotaro glance at you from the corner of his eye, a somewhat wary look in his eye but you just continued. "But how do you keep yourself from punching that entire gaggle of screeching sheep? Honestly I already feel like punching them when I hear them next to me for more than two minutes. And you have to deal with it every day for way longer."

Jotaro visibly relaxed and you heard him let out an amused exhale. "Wouldn't have guessed I have better patience than you." He said back.

You let out an offended gasp at that. "Excuse me my patience is amazing. And let's be fair, I can hear you across the school every day when you yell at them."

He sent you a small side glare, quickly returning to stoically looking forward. "Yes but I haven't ever punched them."

"Neither have I." You smirked. "See? Good patience."

"How about you practice some of that good patience and shut up." His tone of voice was harsh but you could tell there was no anger behind it, so you just let a small smile of victory take over your features as you both walked into the cafeteria.

To say heads turned in surprise when you walked in side by side with Jotaro, unharmed, would be an understatement.

Walking up to the table you had been sitting at, you were relieved to see your friend sitting there, looking at you in disbelief with your bag next to her.

Waving, you walked up and turned to the tall delinquent next to you. "Thanks for not beating me up. I'll see you around." You gave him a weird mock solute before giggling slightly at your stupidity.

Jotaro just hummed and gave you a nod, stuffing his hands in his pocket and turning around, walking out of the cafeteria without a word.

That went way better than you ever could have thought.

#jotaro x reader #JJBA #jojos bizarre adventure #jotaro kujo #jjba part 3 #sfw #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #bloop

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fieryhonesty · 3 years

Text

Genshin drabbles filled with sadness - Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao

“What have I done? Why did I write such angsty stuff? I feel horrible for hurting the boys. Maybe I should have delete this...”

prompts: loosing their s/o for whatever reason, f!reader

Genre: angst

Warning(s): nsfw (alcohol consumption, mention of blood) don’t give me that look you don’t want to read this at work, depression & mourning, reader’s dead (no violent or detailed description the boys just lost their girl)

Kaeya has poured two glasses of wine. One for him and one for the woman sitting next to him. She was smiling with the most genuine smile. Pointing up at the sky. The moon and the stars were shining bright. He didn't need any other light source to see her beautiful face.

Just the two of them sitting at the balcony of their shared house. Silently observing the beauty of the night. Drinking from his glass, the sweet-bitter taste was dancing on his tongue. It was as beautiful as the woman he was spending the time with.

"You know, you are really beautiful tonight, y/n. How about I take a day off tomorrow just to spend it with you?"

No answer.

"We could go on a walk around the city or perhaps go outside the city's walls?"

Yet again, silence.

Kaeya finished his glass with one quick motion. Pouring more wine. The burning sensation in his throat was slowly reminding him something.

"Hey, Dearest. Why don't you talk to me?"

Silence.

"Ah, you are right. I'm... a fool."

He starts laughing. It's not a laugh a happy man would have, it's quite the opposite. Kaeya's in pain. His chest hurts, he knows why but dares not to admit it.

Removing his eye patch and tossing it on the table. Looking at his smiling companion. Why is she so beautiful? He is such a lucky man, having somebody like that. So why is he feeling this pain in his chest? Why does he feel like his heart will burst?

The glass with wine shatters. The shards are covered in the red liquid. He closes his eyes. Trying to force the tears to stop forming. Biting his lips. It hurts so much. His hazy memories are slowly reminding him what's going on.

Just like a movie it all flashes back in the moment you were standing between him and the enemy. Blocking the hit for him. Falling to ground with a painful scream. But before that you managed to look at your beloved. He is safe, you did well.

He stares in horror at the scene. Wishing it's just a bad horror he is watching. This can't be happening. You didn't waste your life for him, did you? If there was somebody supposed to die it's him. He made a mistake. A mistake which cost him you.

Kaeya is silently sobbing, one hand hiding his face while the other is gripping his attire at chest area. He is sure nobody can see him, yet he still feels like to hide. He might be drunk but he knows the woman next to him is just an illusion created by his own mind. There's nobody at all it's just him and the wine.

You are no longer alive. It's all because of him being cocky that day. He was full of himself and so sure he will keep you safe. In the end he lost his remaining pride and you...

Diluc is walking in circles. Biting his thumb while doing so. It hurts, he can taste blood but nothing hurts more than his heart right now. Sweat is forming on his forehead as he is trying to suppress his tears. His shoes are making loud thumbs against the wooden floor. The sounds can be heard in the room under his.

Everyone is silent in the room. Elzer, Adelinde, the old man Tunner and a few more. Listening to noises from Master Diluc's room, yet nobody dares to let him know he is loud. It would be more than rude. Especially now when he has to deal with yet another painful experience.

First he lost his father and several years later he lost his wife. He was finally happy. Having you by his side was a blessing. You were there for him whenever he needed and he did the same for you. Feeling down? He'd be there cupping your face, planting butterfly kisses on your face. Snuggling you close into a protective embrace.

You did something similar. Playing with his hair when he was snuggled to your neck. Brushing through them, tucking them behind his ear. Saying soothing words. He would fall asleep like that.

But now? You are gone. Your sudden passing away affected the whole manor. You were liked among the maids as you often joined in small talk or offered to help them. Despite their protests it's their job. You didn't mind it.

Old Tunner and folks from vineyards remember how you often walked around. Caressing the grapes or bringing some snack.

Simply put. You were the star which was shining bright for everyone. Lifting their spirits and now you are gone. Everyone is mourning you but none can think of how much he is hurt.

When Diluc heard about your critical condition he rushed to see you but doctors didn't let him. You needed to rest but your body was weak, they knew you won't make it. In the end allowing him to see you for the last time. Holding your already cold hand.

He sat there for minutes, until you left him all alone. He didn't move, doctors had to lead him out. Somebody had to pick him up and bring home. He laid on the bed, one hand over his face. Trying to keep his tears away.

Nobody dared to knock on the door. Not even Elzer who always worried about his young Master. Trying to offer some kind words. He knew his words would be useless now. All he can do is just wait. He knows if he goes his Master will be out of control and won't listen to anything.

It's just another painful hit for Master Diluc. He thought he would be happy finally. Already had plans for the future with you. Everything is pointless now. Why does life keep taking his beloved ones from him? How much more he has to suffer…

Xiao is silently sitting at the top of Wangshu Inn. The cold wind is caressing his hair. He is observing the distant horizon, how the moon is slowly going up. His mind is blank. If he were a mortal it would be probably clouded by negative thoughts.

He has no feelings or need for them. He is one of the mighty Adepti, there's no room for stupid things like feelings or emotions. At least that's what he tries to keep repeating to himself.

Mortals come and leave out of his life. Which is only natural for their short life span. He wouldn't be bothered with it at all. But there was a woman who managed to change him. Showed him what those odd feelings in his chest are. She proved to him he has feelings and emotions. He was just suppressing them his whole life.

Perhaps it was all for the better. He feels lonely. Usually it would be the two of you sitting here. You would be nudging him about random things. Snuggle onto his shoulder, whispering some nonsense. He would look at you and see those shiny, beautiful eyes of yours.

He remembers when you fed him with his favorite dish. He was confused at first why would you do it. Explaining to him it's something people in love would do for their partner. Take care of them. He tried to feed you too, it was a clumsy attempt. But you appreciated his efforts.

You showed him so many nice things he could see only from mortal's eyes. He understands some things he couldn't before. All because of you. But what's this feeling? Regret? No. He does not regret letting you enter his life. He regrets being too late.

Before he could do something you were already gone. The demon which attacked you. That sneaky bastard avoiding his watchful gaze. It dared to assault somebody he thought of as a close person. Taking you from him just as if bonds are nothing.

When he arrived you were possessed by the demon. Its power went out of control, destroying everything around. He tried to talk to you but there was nothing left, just agony and darkness. He could see the suffering in your face. You didn't want to. You never were a violent person, yet now you are destroying everything.

For the first time in his life Xiao felt anger was taking control over him. He wanted to eradicate all demons. For what they did all those millennials, for what they did just right now. He knew you will eventually die and leave him, he was fine with that. But he never thought of losing you like this.

He has to do his duty as a Yaksha, the Liyue's protector. Pointing the tip of his spear at your throat. He stopped only because you tried to talk. The words coming out of your lips were just gibberish.

"Farewell, y/n. I'm sorry."

Ending it just like that. Watching how the blood was leaving your body. Feeling sick from the sight of it. He released you from the agony the demon was causing you. Banishing it as it tried to escape from your dying body. There's no demon safe, not from Xiao. He will continue his duty.

But one thing is certain. He will always feel lonely at night as he got used to your presence. You will remain in his heart forever. Always will have that special place as a foolish but lovely mortal, daring to approach him despite all of his fame as a Yaksha. The cold he feels right now bothers him. Just if you could be there...

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin kaeya x reader #genshin diluc x reader #genshin xiao x reader #f!reader #xiao is inspired a bit by his voice line #my heart still hurts #please forgive me husbandos #fiery flash

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myonepiece · 3 years

Note

Hello! First, I'm in love with your writings, especially the ones with Killer and Kid (hope to see more about the Kid pirates in the manga). So, I was wondering if I may request some headcanons about them (separately) being "sweet" (in the own way of course) with fem s/o before and after being together. Maybe how they would behave or how they would talk when they are alone with her. They look tough guys but I think they have a secret sensitive side... God, I love them hahaha

Thank you for your time and your amazing work!!!!

Kid, Killer soft moments with S/O

description: Kid & Killer (seperate) soft moments they share with thier S/O before and after they get together

warnings: none

a/n: 💕💕

before:

this happens before & after, but it starts before- talking trash about people. when Kid got annoyed he would go to you and just pace around the room yelling about whoever/whatever pissed him off, and he would let you do the same with him. he would listen intently but he would also sometimes get lost watching you and when you caught him he would deny it and blush

whenever you were hanging at a bar with the crew, Kid would usually find his way to beside you and he wouldn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, he would tell you it wasn’t on purpose but really it was because he wanted to make sure no one wowuld approach you & you’re safe- and spending time with you~

this also happens before and after but it starts before, he hypes you up, major cheerleader. no one speaks bad on your name and gets away with it, and Kid is honestly the reason you specifically get into fights in bars, because Kid is over on the side lookng like a kid in a candy store (see what I did there) and you don’t want to disappoint him by not beating a poor stranger’s ass

Kid and you had like a mutual understanding before you actually got together, like you could share a look and understand exactly what the other was thinking. it was a given that Kid would randomly barge into your room and either start complaining about something, drinking, or just tinkering with some mechanics/plans- and he was super happy when you did the same to him

after:

while Kid is brash and tough, he sometimes longs for the softer moments when time slows down and he can just stay in the moment with you, one of his favorite of these moments is when he stands on deck with his arms secured around your waist while you sit on the ship’s railing watching the horizon

after sex is one of the times Kid is most vulnerable and soft, he loves having you trace patterns on his bare chest while he stares up at the ceiling and basks in the innocence of the moment

Kid adores getting drunk with you because it always ends in either rough sex or laughing your asses off just the two of you. you’ll start meeting each other’s eye in the bar when it’s nearing time to go back aboard the ship because you both are piss drunk, and every time you look at each other you both have to stifle a laugh but eventually it gets too hard and you just burst out laughing- all the way back to the ship you’re talking about everything and aything you think it funny and you end up sprawled across the floor of the bedroom catching your breath

when you grab onto Kid for support, affection, to drag him away from a fight, he always feels his breath catch in his throat and his cheeks burn lightly, he’ll always grab you back in some way but his grip is harder, like when you grab onto his coat to steady yourself on the ship, he puts. his arm around you and tucks you into his side keeping you pressed safely and tightly against him

before:

you also have a mutual understanding but because you can’t see Killer’s expression, you actually learn to read his body language and overall “vibes”, Killer goes to stand next to you a lot, going out of his way to do so, and you never question him you just look at him and analyze how he’s standing and what manner he walked over in, and if nothing wrong then you just turn back to whatever- he does this as a kind of unspoken “don’t worry I’m right here”

he would often run into you in the kitchen and you would end up cooking beside each other, you talk about random things and it takes the stress off Killer’s shoulders, makes him forget that as soon as this stops he’s going to be putting his life in danger every second

this is sort of another understanding between the two of you, but whenever there’s a threat he’ll often move to stand in front of you, or if the threat is talking to you like it’s some stranger you met at a bar that won’t stop hitting on you, Killer appears right behind you (pretty close I might add) and he uses his build and intimidating aura to scare the person away

after being friends (hopefully more) for awhile, he knows he likes you a lot but he hasn’t made a move yet, but you haven’t seen him without his mask yet because as his crush he’s more scared of what you’ll think- so sometimes he’ll be laying in bed and you’re talking to him and to be more comfortable he’ll take off his mask and you promise not to look, sometimes literally sitting in the corner facing the wall just to provide extra assurance that you won’t look- sometimes the roles are reversed and he’s in your room sitting against the wall while you guys talk and he has his mask off again, and you’re laying with you back facing him

after:

when you’re laying in bed together, after sex or just because it’s late/really early, he has his arm around you holding you on his chest and you’re reaching up playing with his goatee and it makes Killer smile

when the crew is at a bar partying Killer will actually let Kid do more because he’s watching you instead (Kid thanks you btw), he sits over in the corner away from all the craziness, holding a beer in one hand his other arm is around you waist holding you on his lap, he rests his mask on your shoulder and he’s fallen asleep like this a few times

one situation that makes him appreciate you even more, makes him smile with pride and adoration and just feel so overwhelmed with love, is when someone insults him/makes fun of his mask and you just beat their ass, the insults you throw back at them are music to Killer’s ears and he pulls you off the stranger with a smile dancing behind his mask, he always thanks you after and compliments your hits landed on the guy- Kid loves this too and he sometime holds Killer back so you can keep wailing on the stranger who insulted his bestfriend

so as much as KIller likes making out for the sexual aspect, he enjoys it for the closeness and romantic intimacy too, when he’s in a softer more vanilla mood that is. holding you flush against him while your lips mold together with his, hands exploring every part of each other’s body, and when you pull away only to compliment him before reattaching you lips to his, it just makes his tighten his hold on you even more and the world slips away and it’s just the two of you

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #eustass kid #eustass kid headcanons #eustass kid imagine #one piece kid #eustass kid x reader #killer #killer headcanons #one piece killer #killer imagine #killer x reader

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echos-newlegs · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I would love to request number 13 with Tech! I feel like he would definingly ask you to hold hands for ""Science"" (and no other reason why do you ask) Readers pronouns are she/her, and pg or smut whichever is fine :) Thank you so much!

For Science

hhh this would be so cute and we stan him asking in the name of science. Because honestly same,

Tech x Reader: “I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand..”

Warnings: semi smut. I mean it leads up to it, but the moment gets ruined so it’s mainly just kissing, lmao. 😎 I was too tired to actually write smut.

Tech wasn’t really even sure when he started liking you. Of course he always liked you. Who couldn’t? You were amazing, beautiful, strong, courageous, smart.. Plus you not only listened to him, but you rambled with him. But that was besides the point. He was catching feelings for you. The new gunman and technician that clone force 99 was assigned. And he wanted to act upon those feelings more than anything.

He started small. Bringing you caf everyday. Just the way you liked it. It made his day just seeing the smile that came across your face when he would enter the room with a steaming cup for you. Catching you in a small conversation if you weren’t too entirely busy.

Then he started with small touches. Nudging you more, or tapping your arm to gain your attention. Or squeezing your shoulder or patting your back when you accomplished something and he was congratulating you.

You never really took too much time to think about it. You thought he was just being nice, and honestly? You loved it. You were just as touch starved as they were, and the contact made you feel something. Made you feel warm and appreciated.

After a few weeks of this. Nearly a month, actually. He got a new idea.

You were sitting in the copilot seat, waiting for him to make his entry. You had nothing better to do, all your tasks finished. So what better thing to do than sit with your favorite Batcher? Talk with him while he flew you and the gang to the planet that was actually pretty far away. You honestly weren’t too thrilled about the trip at all. Long flights always bored you.

Tech made it into the cockpit. Turning your head as you were slid down in your seat. Hands on your stomach. Eyes watching as he walked over to the pilot seat and began checking over things. “Ready for the trip?” You asked, and caught a glimpse of his smile. “I guess,” he spoke. “Not really much to be ready for.” He flipped a few switches and checked over the gauges as he readied the engines.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you excited about doing the same thing we’ve done a million times, then heading back to 79’s and getting hit on by random strangers?” You were being sarcastic, and it made him snort. Smile spreading across both of your faces. You just loved it when you could make him smile like this.

He sighed when he finally got the ship out of the atmosphere and into light speed. You both relaxing a bit. Though he relaxed more than you, since you were practically already relaxed. Just hitting a few switches here and there for him since he normally always had piloting under control. Which you admired him for.

He reached over and tapped your shoulder. Catching your attention as always. "Hm?" You hummed, watching as he shoved up his glasses using his index finger. "Can I hold your hand?" He asked. His question baffled you. Blinking a couple times, but you only shrugged. Not thinking twice of it. “Uh, sure, you good, goggles?” You teased as you held your hand out. Tech gently taking it in his own. Gloved thumb running over the back of your bare hand.

You noticed his gaze was elsewhere. Not on you anymore. His face even looked pink. “Uh yeah,” he stammered. Mentally cursing himself. Clearing his throat. He honestly thought this out before doing anything. “It’s a test.” “What sort of test?” He should have known you would ask that.

He thought, darting his tongue out to wet his lips. Lifting his head once more so his eyes would meet yours. “I wanted to test out a theory I had.” He spoke, shifting a bit in his seat. His hands now playing with your fingers. You wanted to squeal, it was so cute.

“Have you ever watched an infant grab someone’s finger when a parent, or even someone at random places their own finger in the palm of their hand?” You nodded. “Yeah. On the holo, why?” You were growing intrigued. You always found his spews so interesting. Especially this one.

“That’s known as the grab affect. Infants, especially of the human species, crave touch. Well, really any age of person does. The signs just show as early as infants even up to four weeks before they are born. Sucking thumbs, grabbing their umbilical cord. Or twins will even hold each other’s hands in the womb. It shows in other species of Aliens as well.” He told you, you nodding along with him. “Like when some babies cling to their mothers, like apes for example. It’s a common craving and it all comes down to how our brains are programmed.” He added, bringing a hand up to tap the side of his head with a soft smile. Hand dropping back to his lap.

“I find it quite interesting, really. They are saying, and have even in some ways proven that skin on skin contact. Like for instance, holding hands.” He gave your hand a light squeeze,” let’s off a chemical in our brain called ‘Oxytocin.’ It’s a neurotransmitter that helps our brains release feelings of trust, generosity, and compassion.” Tech told you.

You took in this information like it was gold. Watching the words fall from his mouth with an intent look. “They have proven that a lack of touch, which is often known as touch hungry, or touch starved. With children can lead to physical disabilities, such as a stunt in growth. Plus mental ones. It’s most common in adults, the mental issues are. Adults can get severe depression or even anxiety from the lack of being touched, you know?” He informed you, and you shot him a lopsided smile. “You feeling depressed or anxious, Techy?” You asked, and he smiled at that. “Not when I’m around you.”

You felt the blush creeping up the back of your neck. Kriff this was adorable. He is adorable. “They also have found that when fingers are interlaced, like this.” He interlaced your fingers with both hands. Eyes watching what he was doing, carefully. “Heart rate goes down, blood pressure goes down, and it puts your body in a relaxed state. All because of the pressure receptors that are triggered just from holding hands, though interlaced fingers triggers more of those receptors. Which are called the vagal activity,” you hummed and nodded. Watching as he looked up to meet your eyes.

“So..” he trailed off, his voice lowering, and you waited for the question that would soon follow after. “Do you feel more relaxed, mesh’la?” Your lips pressed into a small smile at that question, and you nodded. “Yeah.. I actually do, that was really interesting, Tech.” You told him, and nearly exploded at the wide grin he shot back at you. “Really?” He asked, he always seemed so shocked when you enjoyed his lectures.

“Yeah, I did,” you assured him. Watching as he stood from the seat. Using his hands still interlaced with yours to pull you up from your seat. A sudden burst of confidence flowed through him, like a rush of adrenaline did after nearly being shot on field. Hands squeezing yours as he brought you closer. You nearly stumbling into his chest. Looking up at him with furrowed brows. “Because, I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.” He nearly whispered. Voice lowered and, well.. Deeper. Your lips inches apart, and you could nearly feel his breath on your lips. Sending a shudder down your spine.

“But with that being said, I do want to test a theory.” You blinked a couple times, then licked your lips. “And what’s that?” He leaned in a bit closer, your noses brushing now. “How much more oxytocin a kiss from you would release, than just holding your hand.” He added, and your smirked a bit. “Then what are you waiting for?”

He leaned in, finally closing the gap between the two of you and it felt so.. Euphoric. Your hands released one another’s to roam each other’s bodies. One of his hands moving to run through your hair, the other resting on the small of your back. Pushing you against him. You had one hand in his hair as well. Your other hand resting on his chest.

The two of you parted. Eyes fluttering open. Looking to one another with small huffs and pants. “So,” you started, and Tech still looked like he was trying to catch his breath. “Amazing,” he cooed. The hand in your hair moving to cup the side of your face. “So fucking amazing,” he murmured, and you couldn’t help but giggle. “How about another, then?”

It didn’t take asking him twice for another kiss. He was pulling your lips back to his in and instant. This kiss was a bit more desperate. Deeper, yet still soft. He wasn’t too rough and it drove you crazy.

Your lips parted in a gasp when he guided his thigh between your legs. The friction making you cling to him like a child. His tongue slipping into your mouth. Exploring and studying every inch of it like it was his job.

You pushed him a bit, and he backed up. Backs of his knees hitting the copilot seat and he sat down. Guiding you into his lap. Never breaking the kiss. Your legs now resting on either side of him.

He pulled from the kiss to spread kisses down your jaw. Lips leaving light and feathery trails down to your neck. Mouthing over the skin. Nipping the areas that had you gasping and nearly moaning. Your hands running under his blacks. Fanning over his stomach, then moving up to his chest. Rubbing at his tanned skin, and he groaned.

You both jumped when you heard the door to the cockpit swish open. Still sitting on his lap since his hands were still placed firmly around you. Your own hands moving to yourself. Techs shirt still hiked up right below his chest. You were both disheveled and practically holding your breaths as you stared at the door way.

Cross was standing there with Hunter. The two had shocked expressions at first, but then Crosshairs look turned into a small. What seemed to be, proud smile. Hunter just looked mortified, then glared. “You’re watching where we’re going, right?” He hissed, and the two of you were frozen. “I have the coordination set for the coordinates.” He clenched his jaw and eyes shut at his repeating of the word coordinates. Mentally cursing himself for not locking the door. “You better be paying attention, and just kissing, Maker.” Hunter muttered and walked out. Back to the bunks to probably lie down.

Crosshair was still leaning in the doorway. Pulling the toothpick from his lips with a smirk. Winking at Tech, then giving you a nod. “I knew you had it in you, Vod, don’t go doing anything I wouldn’t do.” He spoke, then walked out. Door shutting behind him.

Tech sunk into his seat. You still hovering above him. Climbing off a bit awkwardly. “We’ll never hear the end of this” Tech spoke in a mortified whisper. “It can’t be that bad... Right?” “Oh... It’s that bad.”

#bad batch x reader #star wars #star wars writing #the bad batch #the clone wars #writing #tech the bad batch #bad batch tech #tech bad batch #tech x reader #the bad batch tech x reader

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yunkiwii · 3 years

Text

—i miss you even when you're here—

pairing: bf!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, established relationship

wc: ~2.7k

warnings: feeling of abandonment, loneliness, stress, insecurities

⇢ requested by @leihey ♡ i hope this lives up to your expectations!

summary: for seven days y/n has been feeling lonely as her boyfriend spends all his time either at work or thinking about work.

You turn your alarm off without even looking at it, huffing before reaching your arm to the left side of the bed, and the way it lands straight out into the wrinkled sheets with a muffled sound confirms what you expected but still hoped wouldn't happen today - waking up alone.

For the past week Seungmin would get home late to a long asleep girlfriend at their shared bed, and a plate of cold food on the kitchen table. On the other hand, you would wake to an already empty bed and a faint memory of a forehead kiss, one you wondered if it were real or just a lucid dream.

For seven days you have spent your time either at work or alone at home, carefully thinking what meal would cheer up your boyfriend the most after a long stressful day at JYPE, missing the way he would always cut the onions because he knew you were more sensitive than him to the burning feeling in your eyes and would cry easily, missing how the kitchen always felt so small for the two of you to cook together, his hands constantly on your waist as a way to tell you to "scootch over", not wanting to interrupt his singing to tell you verbally.

For seven days you have been cooking alone, cooking for someone you didn't know would show up in time or not. And whenever he did - he didn't - being his presence merely physical, greeting kisses placed on your cheeks, lips and forehead in a mechanical way, a force of habit. For seven days your kitchen felt too big, too quiet and the onions made you cry more than usual.

At the eighth day you couldn't take it anymore, and when you heard the doorknob of your front door creaking, just as you were setting the table - for two -, you had to take three deep breaths, the words you had organized and planned out started to get mixed up in your brain, creating a mess you couldn't control anymore and so, as soon as you see Seungmin entering the kitchen you can only say three words, "I love you."

"I love you too, silly." he chuckles as his lips peck yours quickly, "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about so desperatly?", he waves his phone, referring to the text you sent him earlier. He didn't look annoyed at you for making him come home earlier than it was usual lately, but he still seemed off, and the bags under his eyes screamed "exhaustion" the same way the marks your tears left on your cheeks did too.

You watch him as he eats, unable to do so too yourself, the lump in your throat growing as you hear Seungmin's muffled voice thanking you for the meal with his mouth full and a light squeeze on your thigh. And you wondered if you were being unfair, if you were being selfish, because he was allowed to be stressed about his work, he was allowed to not be at his best all the time, and it wasn't his fault he had to stay until late at night at work. But it was his fault that he couldn't leave work when he got home, that he couldn't put his phone down and ask how your day was, to just take ten minutes of his day to just be with you, and you only. And you were allowed to miss him, miss his touch, miss the way he held you tightly at the end of the day while you watched the most random tv show together, because it wasn't the show that matter but each other's company.

And, without realizing it, you had already spilled all of this to him before the kitchen dropped dead silent again, and everything went blurry. You couldn't even see his face, not until his hands cupped your cheeks and his thumbs cleaned your tears as you mumbled quietly, "I'm sorry, I- I just miss you."

"But I'm right here (y/n)...", he pulls your chair closer until your knees touch, taking your hand in his while the other lifts your chin so your eyes meet, "Let's go on a date tomorrow, yeah? I'll get off earlier and pick you up. You'll wear that fancy outfit you've had in your wardrobe for ages, and I'll put on a nice suit and tie. What do you say?"

And in the eighth night you went to bed feeling a little warmer inside, his back turned to you didn't hurt as much now that your hand rested on his side and his shirt was worn by you. Knowing - hoping - that tomorrow will be better, you fall deep into dreamland as soon as you shut your eyes.

However, you couldn't help but to feel abandoned again when, hours later, a cold breeze hits your stomach and arms, making you mumble something in your sleep as you try to recover whatever was blocking that breeze before. One of your hands gets a grip of a soft fabric that seems too heavy to pull back down next to you, leaving your sleepy self whining for the owner of said fabric not to leave again.

"I will be back later, don't forget I'll pick you up for dinner. Go back to sleep now, (y/n)."

But how could you forget about dinner with him when, for the last eight days it was all you were longing for, and for the nineth day it was all you could think about?

Said day passed by slower than ever, an illusion caused by the clear anticipation you felt about the upcoming night. Anticipation addressed by your colleagues at work, who wondered what has sent your head into cloud 9 and your right leg into a fidgeting state, unable to stay still.

These same nervous actions continued at home, the funny feeling in your stomach resembling the very first date you had with Seungmin a few years ago, back when you were still a college student and he wasn't as busy as now. The same thoughts you had that day invading your restless mind again, "What if he doesn't like me (anymore)?", "What if he thinks I am (got) boring?", "What if my outfit doesn't fit?".

With that last thought you rush to your bedroom - but not without tripping on the first step of the staircase - to, in desperate clumsy movements, try out the said outfit you've been wanting to wear for so long, the one Seungmin got you for a "special date" months ago, one that never happened. But it did fit, it fitted better than ever and when you saw your reflection in the mirror even you fell in love with the person in front of you, the one doing little swirls with a stupid smile on her face, the person you doubted to be yourself. And, suddenly, you felt like everything would be alright, everything would go back to normal, maybe things would get even better than before, "there is no way he'll fall out of love for me when I look like this" was your first thought.

But he didn't even seem to notice your appearance, he didn't seem to notice you at all, he simply picked you up at the agreed time with a peck on your lips and one single rose in hand. All he did was drive you - in silence - to the fanciest restaurant in town, leave you alone at the table about three times to pick up the phone - "it's from work, I'm sorry" -, pay for both your meals and drive you back home.

And it took him to hear the quiet sobs you so hardly tried to keep in, while laying as far away as possible from him that you had to secure yourself from falling over the edge, to realize what he had been doing to you, to finally figure out how much he has been hurting you. And in that moment his sobs could be heard too. The realisation and guilt hit Seungmin like a truck and he couldn't move. He couldn't believe how he had let his stress and excessive work load affect you too. He couldn't believe he had reached a point to where he brought work home, one thing he had promised you he would never do. And his chest tights up a bit more when he realises you never got mad at him for breaking his promise, and breathing gets difficult when he faces you - your back.

"(Y/N)...", and your stomach drops five feet down at his cracked, low tone, and "I'm so sorry..." was all he could say before bursting into silent tears once more.

However, you were too hurt to face him, and the burn in your eyes increases when you feel the mattress sink behind you before a warm hand rests on your waist, but you don't push him away.

The nineth night was his the turning point, and Seungmin swore to your asleep self - and to himself - that the next morning would mark a new beginning.

And in the first morning you pretended to be asleep when his hand took a few strands of hair off your face, his lips barely touched your skin and his voice broke your heart, "see you later". And you held your breath until the bedroom door closed and stood still until the front door locked. But it took longer today, and in between these two moments you heard noise in the kitchen, and within a few minutes a nice smell made its way into your hiding place, as if it was trying to lure you to give in and face your boyfriend. But not even your grunting stomach stopped you from waiting to hear his car drive off to get up. And when you did, the curiosity took over you. He never cooks in the morning, and he never leaves this late. Something was changing after all.

Hence, in the first night, you shifted your body to face him when he quietly climbed in bed next to you, your left cheek pressed against your hands as a weak smile greeted the tired boy, "I appreciated the breakfast." Nevertheless, you didn't reach out to pinch his cheek the way you used to, though you had the urge to do so when his own lips drew a smile and his eyes got lost in his cheeks.

In the second morning you didn't pretend to be asleep and you didn't wait for the car to leave. In the second morning you sat at the kitchen table with Seungmin and, because he knew it would take you time to go back to him, he didn't force a conversation, he didn't force skinship, he merely held your hand and squeezed it lightly. And you knew he was trying, you knew he would try and wait until you were ready to trust him again, to give him your heart again.

Day by day you would slowly give him little pieces of you, by sharing the most small and insignificant stories of your day, by letting him hold your hand at night, by sharing earpods with him on the couch when you couldn't fall asleep, by letting him try and do all the things he shouldn't have stopped doing in the first place.

But it took you seven days and seven pieces to trust him with your heart again. Therefore, on the seventh day, as the the sunbeams peaked through the poorly closed shutters and reflected on Seungmin's bare shoulders, you couldn't help yourself from admiring him and, for the first time in seven days, you felt warm inside. The butterflies you used to feel the first times you woke up next to him were back, and were more annoying than ever.

You let yourself study all his features attentively, scanning all his perfect imperfections, letting yourself fall for him all over again - not that you think you ever fell out of love, but rather disconnected from it, and him.

He flinched and mumbled confused words, and you couldn't help but to smile and giggle softly at how silly your sleepy, drooling nonense-speaking boyfriend looked. This time, you gave in to the urge of pinching his cheek tenderly as to not wake him up, and you left your hand resting there as your thumb rubbed his soft skin.

As you were feeling your eyes becoming heavy again, your thumb stopped the movement and your hand slid down a bit. Your body relaxing more and more, until a ticklish feeling pulled you back to the "here and now", just to find Seungmin kissing the palm of your hand with his eyes still closed before pulling you closer to him, making you wince and giggle when his warm breath hit your ear and his raspy voice gave you his "good morning's".

He moved his body sloppily, hitting you with his elbow before comfortably positioning half of his body on top of yours, resting his head on the crook of your neck as he held you tightly by your waist, as if he were afraid you would run away.

"I missed you Seungmin, I missed you even when you were here." Your fingers got lost in his messy hair as you spoke, his grip on you grew tighter and you felt the tears peaking in the corner of your eyes. "You hurt me... and I thought about leaving you before you left me first."

For the first time you were letting him know how you truly felt, for the first time you were opening yourself up to him without any ounce of shame or fear. And this was your turning point. This was the moment you both knew you were back, ready to mend all the wrongs and the scattered pieces of your hearts that were left all around the house. "But everyone makes mistakes. And I know you have been trying, and-", Seungmin shifts his body once more, supporting himself with his hands as he is now hovering over you with his eyes locked in yours, a restless look in his face worried about what you would say next, and suddenly you feel shy, "What I mean to say is, I forgive you. I choose to stay and love you even if my mind won't let me believe that you love me back, I will trust you and your actions. So please don't let my mind trick me again, don't give it reasons to doubt your love for me unless you don't feel it anymore."

You pull his hair back waiting for a reaction, leaving your hand to rest behind his neck ready to pull him in for a kiss, the first real kiss in sixteen days. But you wait for what it feels to be an eternity, until he breaks the silence and mends the last piece of your heart when he reassures his love for you and vows to reassure you every single day until the rest of your lives.

And when you finally pull him in he loses balance and falls on top of you, his forehead hits your nose and just like that the house is filled up with laughter again, the onions don't make you cry anymore, the kitchen shrank and the fancy dates became late night movie marathons with you snuggled on Seungmin, or Seungmin snuggled on you, until you were far too tired to walk upstairs, leading to countless nights spent on the tiny couch and countless mornings with complaints about aching bodies but happy souls.

nets: @k-library @ficscafe @k-dinernet @districtninewriters

taglist: @dreamwrld @su-lix @bobateastay @leihey @serialee @hyunsluvv

⇢ let me know if you want to be added to the taglist ♡

#klibrary #ficscafe #kdiner #districtninewriters #seungmin x reader #seungmin angst #seungmin fluff #seungmin oneshot #seungmin imagine #seungmin fanfic #stray kids scenarios

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Stabbed

This was written following an anon request that read as follows:

Hello sweetie, can I please request a dean x reader one shot in which she gets stabbed during a rough hunt and it's a race against time to save her (maybe Sam is the one driving and dean gets in the backseat with her?) And dean is scared of losing her and he has a panic attack after she wakes up but she manages to calm him down?

Obviously everyone’s experiences with panic attacks are different, but I tend to think if Dean had one it might manifest more externally as a violent outburst; I think he would subconsciously feel like it’s a more acceptable way to express ~freaking the fuck out~. This fic is sort of loosely set during early season 3, partly because that contextualization made sense to me with what you were describing and partly because I feel like that tenderhearted, slightly-less-jaded Dean would be more likely to allow himself to be perceived as vulnerable in such a fraught moment.

I’ve also taken a couple liberties with the medical situation described for literary purposes. 😋 Don’t @ me, I know this isn’t exactly how hypovolemic shock plays out.

Title: Stabbed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4206

Summary: Dean’s anxiety gets the best of him when the reader appears fatally injured on a hunt, and is soothed only after the danger is gone.

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence, description of panic attack, swearing

Sam slammed the door once Dean had hauled you into the backseat, propping you up like a mannequin next to him on the bench. Your vision was starting to fade in and out, but the sense memory of the muscles in Dean’s side and the leather seat underneath you were comforting anyway. It seemed like the car started flying before Sam had even closed the driver’s side door and you tried hard to focus on Dean’s babbling.

“You’ll be able to give me shit about this one forever, right, kid? Should’ve listened to you, you said they would’ve left the barn by the time we got there. Always so smart, when am I going to learn?” He was trying to chuckle but it came out breathy and wrong, Dean never quite able to actually hit the casual affect he wanted in moments like this. Honestly, it made you more nervous, knowing that for injuries he wasn’t worried about he wanted to look over you with clinical precision, chastise you for being careless. He only did this pretend calm when he was trying to keep it together—you used to think it was only for you or Sam but after a few years and more than a few bad scares you started to understand it for the defense mechanism it truly was. Not that you needed extra evidence that this was bad; you could feel the life leeching out of you like a water balloon with a pinprick leak.

“Hey, come on—open your eyes for me, lemme see those stunners,” he said, guiding your chin up where you had begun to slump onto his shoulder. “Perfect, yeah, just like that. Hey, stay with me—”

You mustered up everything you had to swim to the surface of the sleep-darkness your body so desperately wanted and straightened your spine to take a deep breath. Bad idea, the wounds in your side feeling like they were splitting you clean in half even through the haze. At least it woke you up for a moment to catch Dean’s eyes, fiery with panic even as he tried to smile.

“Dean, I—” you started, feeling like your throat was full of broken glass.

“Babe, don’t try to talk, it’s okay, you can tell me whatever it is when we get to a hospital.”

Sam turned his head away from the rural highway the Impala was absolutely sailing down to look back at his older brother. “We’re hours away from a hospital, we’ve gotta go back to the motel,” he said, low and serious.

“If we’re hours away from a hospital then I guess we’re driving for a couple hours, aren’t we, Sammy?” Dean was getting worse and worse at covering the hard edge of fear-driven anger in his voice as the seconds ticked by.

“Dean, we—she’s—we don’t have a couple hours.”

Dean closed his eyes tight and set his jaw firm. “We’re going to a fucking hospital.”

His brother swerved deftly around a giant pothole, somehow able to turn the wheel so slightly that the car’s path barely changed. “Listen to me. She can’t bleed like that for long enough to get to a hospital. We have to try to handle this one ourselves or there’s no chance—”

The whole conversation felt like it was happening to someone else, your senses starting to detach from your body, and you couldn’t hold onto those trains of thought for long enough to process them. You were forced to expend all the energy you had on what you needed to say, and reached for Dean’s hand with a weak grip.

“Dean, look at me.”

He sounded like a hurt puppy when he said, “please,” and you knew he was asking you not to make him listen but you were worried you were out of options, out of time. That frantic smile looked almost crazed as it started to quiver on his face, eyelashes clumping with moisture.

“Sam, can you hear me too?” you asked, frustrated in an abstract way at how frail your voice sounded.

He gave one tight nod in the rearview mirror with a jaw set firm as iron, and when he said “Yes—yeah,” it was choked.

“I love you idiots so much. These last—ow, Jesus—however many years have been some of the most fun I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t take it back for anything. Sam, I—you’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I—fuck,” you winced, something about the breath you took to keep from crying sending an electric jolt of pain through you and doubling you over.

“It’s okay, I know,” Sam said up into the rearview mirror, and you couldn’t tell if the way the headlights were falling on the trees impossibly fast was something about your sight being distorted, because if it wasn’t then you were surprised the Impala hadn’t broken some kind of land speed record. You made a mental note to tell Dean to start drag racing before remembering you might not tell him anything ever again. What you were nearly positive you weren’t imagining were the break in Sam’s voice or the reflection of tears on his cheek as he locked eyes with you in the mirror.

By the grace of whatever higher power the Winchesters were on the good side of at the time, you connected with him in the reflection, were able to absorb some fraction of the bone-crushing, pick-you-up-off-your-feet hug you wanted so badly from Sam in that moment. You tried to be thankful for what you got and drifted back to Dean’s gaze.

“And Dean, baby,” you continued, some bizarre flutter of second wind giving you enough force to clench your hand tightly around his and remember to keep your breaths shallow, keep talking even if your eyes couldn’t quite focus. “This was not your fault, you gotta—promise—me you know it wasn’t.”

“I, ah—” he faltered, throat vibrating as he tried to keep the inevitable tears down.

You gripped his hand tighter, felt your fingers going numb, and tried to smile hoping it didn’t look too grotesque on a face almost certainly drained of lifelike color. “C’mon, gotta obey a last wish, right?” The grief-stricken chuckle of surprise that dark joke punched out of Dean opened the floodgates, and tears burst forward to stream down his face. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

You’d thought of some goofy punchline to try to give, some ‘no sleeping with random girls for at least a year, want you guys to pour one out for me every day’ bullshit but seeing the love and pain in Dean’s eyes as your vision came in and out zapped it away. “I love you baby. I just—thank you for—everything—and—”

It was getting too hard to take even those shallow breaths, your hearing gone fuzzy around the edges, and the last thing you remembered was seeing a streetlight on the edge of town as Dean took your face in his hands, “I know, kid, I know, come on—please,” fading out like he was being zipped away through a long tunnel.

You were completely motionless in Dean’s arms, pulse gone thready enough that Dean was having a hard time finding it through the rumble of the car.

“Fuck, Sam, FUCK!” Dean screamed, one hand wrapped up in the hair at the back of your neck as he fought desperately to keep you upright.

Sam muscled through the lump in his throat and tried to stay focused. “When we get there you need to be ready to go, okay, Dean? HEY, listen to me. Don’t quit on me like this,” he barked, trying to catch his brother’s eyes in the rearview mirror without taking his focus off the road, terrified at the speed of the Impala and the potential of repeating what had happened the last time he’d had someone he loved bleeding out in the backseat.

The car skittered around two corners and Sam prayed as hard as he had ever prayed for anything that there weren’t any Keystone cops looking to meet their month’s ticket quota by hanging around dark parking lots with radar guns, willed Dean to stop punching the window of the car with the hand that wasn’t clutching your head to his chest. He couldn’t decide if he thought it would’ve been better to have Dean drive, if he would’ve been able to hold it together any better than Dean was right now, if Dean could’ve focused if he was driving and not feeling you drift in his arms. There wasn’t time to figure it out and it ultimately didn’t matter, his brother turning into a bomb in the backseat and Sam needed to figure out a way to funnel Dean’s sheer panic back into the denial that would fuel him to keep moving, do anything to keep you alive, regardless of whether there was any hope left.

“It’s not over, you’ve gotta keep it together. She needs you. See, we’re right around—"

But he didn’t get to finish through the flurry of action as he pulled into the motel. He careened the Impala straight up to the door of the room, more than half of the car parked over a strip of grass intended to make the nondescript building feel more homey. By the time he’d torn the keys from the ignition Dean was practically leaping out of the backseat, carrying you into the room a quarter step after Sam half-busted the door open, laying you on a bed and tearing your t-shirt off with his bare hands like a cheap wrestling gimmick.

Sam didn’t bother closing the motel door, moving too fast to care as he ripped a cork out of whiskey bottle with his teeth and poured it all over your now-exposed side, grimacing with nausea at the way it didn’t make you draw back in pain even a little. Dean tried his best to thread a needle with floss and remember whether it was better or worse that the blood was still flowing fast and bright red out of those stab wounds rather than slowing or oxidizing—this is bush league shit Dad pounded in years ago why can’t I remember fucking any of it? His hands shook with too much adrenaline to get the floss through the needle but Sam was already working on patching the biggest wound, tying knots with the rapid precision of a surgeon.

It was only when he started getting in Sam’s way that the younger Winchester said anything more, encouraged that Dean was at least trying to pull himself together. He began talking through the stitches, muttering when he had to pull one tight with his teeth.

“We—Dean, look at me.” Sam drilled into him with those brackish eyes, struggling to maintain the appearance of being in control that his brother needed of him when he could feel you going cold underneath his fingertips. “We’re going to need to give her a lot of fluids when she wakes up; all we have is beer. Go get some stuff for her to drink—electrolytes, she’ll need electrolytes.”

“I’m not going to fucking leave, asshole!” Dean was strung out and not even pretending to hide it anymore, voice taking on that juvenile squeak Sam had only heard a handful of times since Dean was a teenager.

He took a deep breath in an effort to soothe himself before speaking as clearly and firmly to Dean as possible, no room for negotiation. “Dean. This is not helping. The best thing you can do for her is to go get some fluids. Gatorade, OJ, bananas too, if they have them. She’ll need iron but we can deal with other food once she wakes up.”

“What if she doesn’t—” Dean half-moaned, sounding like he’d been struck by something that was sucking all the oxygen from his lungs, looking like he was on the last ten feet of a hundred-mile race.

“She’s going to wake up.”

And Sam’s stubbornness actually did help Dean a bit in that moment, knowing that even if his life was about to change radically, that never would. “Go get some fucking Gatorade.”

By the time Dean came back—arms filled with so many bags of sports drinks that it would be comical in any other context—his brother had stitched up every wound, cleaned off most of the blood, and put all your limbs atop high stacks of pillows in an attempt to get as much blood to your vital organs as possible. Dean was near catatonic with the singular focus of a task, which was Sam’s intention. One thing at a time.

After about five minutes of sitting alongside Sam watching you, thick, viscous panic bubbled back up to the surface.

At first, he was muttering like he was talking to himself. “She told me, she fucking told me they wouldn’t be in the barn anymore, I didn’t listen. I should’ve been right behind her, Sam, what the fuck was I thinking—she was—she—she was alone, they wouldn’t have—” and then the way his voice built to a fever pitch matched his body, Dean perched on the mattress like a sailboat in a tempest, slammed against invisible waves of panic.

“It wasn’t your fault, Dean. You couldn’t have known—”

“She was alone against five of them, Sam, do you get that? I left her fucking ALONE!” Dean wailed, springing forward from the bed with eruptive energy and bashing the nightstand lamp hard enough that its base shattered against the opposite wall, coming clean out of the socket as easily as if it hadn’t been plugged in. Sam flinched but didn’t get up, instead taking a quick visual inspection that no shards of ceramic somehow bounced back to cut your still body. By the time he glanced up again he only had a millisecond to react as Dean threw a chair from the kitchenette against the wall, exploding the mirror there into shimmering beads of glass and ricocheting back, forcing Sam block it with a forearm lest it hit him or you.

“DEAN, enough!” he yelled, crossing over to his brother with a few powerful strides and grappling with him, battling to keep Dean still as the older of the Winchester brothers fought to destroy the room to match the chaos in his mind. Sam knew exactly what was going on, the way Dean’s brain converted fear to rage, but hated when his brother got like this, not only because it cut so deep to see him in pain but because the explosiveness was so similar to the knock-down drag-outs they’d grown up with, made it impossible to try to fix the root of the problem.

Sam tackling Dean to the ground was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.

“Do I pull this shit when you guys are sleeping?” you croaked from the mattress, trying to sit up and immediately abandoning that plan, stilling yourself and holding your breath until the pain settled a fraction.

Sam and Dean scrambled to get to their feet and ran over to you, hovering over the bed looking like their backs had a light dusting of glitter rather than a million tiny shards of glass.

“What’re—are you okay? What do you remember?” Sam blurted out, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade out of a plastic bag and cracking it open for you. He snatched a pillow and helped you sit up slowly, jamming it under your head so you could drink.

“Well, I’ve definitely felt better,” you tried to chuckle, but the tension it caused in your abdominal muscles made you wince. “I’m really sorry, you guys, I shouldn’t have—” you began, immediately stopped by the way Sam and Dean shook their heads, sucked on their teeth.

“I’m—ah,” Sam started, smiling self-deprecatingly through the shake in his voice and looking down at the ground for a beat with his tongue in his cheek. It was like his body knew that the worst of the crisis had passed and refused to let him hide his emotions for one second further. After a second he met your eyes again, faintest hint of tears in his eyes. “I’m really glad you’re up.”

Behind him, Dean collapsed into himself, his expression simultaneously complete relief and like he’d seen a ghost. You peered around Sam to meet his gaze. “Hey, dork,” you breathed, unable to come up with anything to match the weight of the moment.

He opened his mouth a few times and couldn’t find anything either, wincing and biting his lip hard as he rubbed the back of his head nervously. “I’m so sorry,” he finally choked out.

As always, Sam knew what Dean needed and snatched the car keys off the table as his brother tried in vain to keep his restless limbs still. He gazed at you with such naked thankfulness it made you smile involuntarily. “I’m going to see how much red meat I can find you, I’ll be right back, okay? Drink as many of these as you can and don’t stand up alone.” You nodded gratefully to him as he backed out the door.

When Sam left, Dean still shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clenching and unclenching his hands until he ultimately jammed them deep into the pockets of his coat with enough force that it shook loose almost all of the glass, sending it floating to the ground around him as if he was a mirage. You could see, even as he stood a few paces away from the bed, that his breathing was quickened from the rapid, shallow movements of his chest and neck. “I’m—ah, I didn’t think—I shouldn’t have—” he stammered against a jaw locked shut tensely enough to make the muscles bulge out of his cheeks, and the lack of the self-assuredness that was normally so Dean to you made him seem unbelievably young, made you want to leap across the room and wrap him up in your arms. As it was, you beckoned him over with a shaky hand.

He walked over to you hesitantly, only sitting down on the side opposite your injuries when you patted the sheets next to you. Awkwardly trying to move your torso as little as possible, you tossed the pillows on that side to the floor and motioned for him to lay down.

“I don’t want to hurt—”

“I’ll be fine. Please?”

Reluctantly taking off his coat and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground, he gingerly tucked himself under your arm and laid his head on your chest. You faintly dragged your fingertips down his back, waiting for his heartbeat and uneven, shallow breathing to slow down. When they didn’t and all you felt was a spreading wetness on the remaining upper half of t-shirt you still had, you twisted laboriously to see Dean’s face.

Tears streamed down onto you, Dean biting his lip so hard to keep quiet you were shocked you couldn’t see blood, the whites of his teeth almost matching the pressure-blanched skin.

“Oh, Dean,” you hummed, pulling him close to you with your one arm. “Babe, I’m here, I’m right here. Everything’s okay; I’m okay, you get to treat me like a princess for a few days and I’ll learn for the hundredth time that I shouldn’t go off by myself.”

“I—I thought you were gone,” Dean whispered between stunted sobs breaking the words off in short staccato, still fighting to speak as though he wasn’t crying even as his tears soaked you.

You craned your neck slowly to kiss the top of his head. “Not gone, right here. Always going to be right here.”

“You were bleeding so mu—just like Sam, it was just like when Sam—” he faltered, speaking slowly to try to grab the reins of his voice as it shook.

“Not just like Sam, baby, I’m still here. Everyone’s okay. And Sam’s okay too, right?” You waited for him to confirm what you knew was true and emphasize your point, drawing back to meet his gaze when he didn’t. “Right?”

Reluctantly, Dean nodded. The redness around his eyes made his irises seem almost unreal in electric green contrast and you couldn’t believe you were so close to never seeing them again. His lashes were even darker than normal, spiky black frames formed with salty tears like cartoonish mascara. You waited a beat then let him settle back into your chest before continuing, feeling the choke-hiccupping of his breath stop even if it stayed rapid. “Everyone’s okay. You’re okay,” you hummed into his hair. “You’re okay, baby.”

The two of you stayed like that until Dean’s breathing finally steadied, waiting past the clearly forced long held breaths and through to the point that he genuinely seemed like he’d hit the smooth rhythm you knew so well. “How are you feeling?” you murmured.

“Like a bitch,” he grumbled softly against your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile, thankful beyond anything for the glint of humor back in Dean, that shimmer of normalcy returning.

“Sorry for scaring you.”

“I’m never fucking letting you out of my sight again,” he said, words still sticky with swirling emotion and muffled by his cheek pressed against you. You knew he was only partly joking but also that now was not the time to push back, just kissing his hair in response.

There was no way it took Sam an hour to get you a diner burger but you were thankful for his intuition nonetheless, because by the time he got back Dean was calm enough to get up and had even helped you to put on a new t-shirt—one of his black ones; he said it was because it was looser but you suspected it was some kind of metaphor, covering you with part of himself—and shimmy into a pair of mesh athletic shorts. Standing up for a shower was still too ambitious, but the fresh clothes made you feel a little less gross. He was trying his best to clean up as much broken glass as possible when his brother opened the door and tossed him a paper bag with a bubbly illustrated hamburger on it.

Walking into the room without taking his jacket off, Sam set your food on the nightstand and grabbed a motel binder of local attractions (minimal) as a makeshift tray for you to eat off of before carefully helping you to sit up a little more. “Double cheeseburger—eat it before the fries, you need the iron. Oh, and I almost forgot—couple of these too.” He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved two bottles in one big hand that appeared to be acetaminophen and an iron supplement.

“You’re the best, Sam.” It was nice to hear your voice sound more normal, lubricated with two bottles of Gatorade already, and you tried not to imagine how awkward or painful it was going to be to try to get up and go to the bathroom later.

The Winchesters sat on the other bed, still in their boots because of the rug of broken glass no one wanted to acknowledge, and Sam turned on whatever dumb comedy he could find first. For a fleeting moment it felt like any normal night on the road, nursing an injury and eating greasy food in a room you’d never see again past tomorrow morning, and you almost forgot that (minutes? hours? you still didn’t know how long you’d been out) earlier you thought you were saying goodbye to the two people you loved most, who’d moved heaven and earth and miles of rural highway to bring you back, whose superhero resilience you’d seen start to crack at the thought of losing you. A searing jolt of pain when you reached for another Gatorade reminded you all too much, and when you hissed both Sam and Dean leapt off the bed with faces contorted in concern.

“Just stretched too far, I’m okay.”

Watching them take twin deep breaths could’ve been funny and you hoped it would be in a few days—hoped in a few days laughing wouldn’t feel like being impaled. For now, you tried to drink in this little moment of peace and made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t take another one for granted ever again.

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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nolpat0 · 3 years

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the lies i tell myself | t. jost

summary: she tells herself sweet lies because she can't fathom a life without him

wc: 1,026

warnings: angst ofc

"I didn't mean that," his words are soft, and drained as if he's expelled all his energy hurting her feelings with too articulate arguments. His words are meant to smooth over the hurt of his hoarse, convincing words but she can sense the immediateness of his response, and the lack of sincerity of his half-hearted apology that tells her he means anything but to be apologetic. It's as if the twitch of his lips and the reach of his fingers for her and the melody of his voice is rehearsed; as if it's a habit rather than something he really means. As if Tyson knows of her hesitation in accepting the apology, he tries slightly harder. "I was just angry; none of that was true."

She nods; a quick dip of her chin and the quick flit of her silver-lined eyes. But none of his words feel sincere. She knows of their hollowness and his expectation that the words won't linger on her skin. Knows the heat of his anger as he yelled emphatically at her was genuine. For a brief, fleeting moment as her eyes flutter closed and her lips press into a thin, steadying line, she imagines what it would be to let her feet carry her away. Away from him, and his truthful insults, the push, and pull of his love and everything promise that fell short. It's peaceful; a life full of boring bliss and nothing but the faded memory of a curly-haired boy who loved her too much for him to not end up a memory. But reality crashes down on her, threatening to bring her to her knees as panic and fear grips every fiber of her being. How could she leave him when Tyson is all she ever knows?

Her boring, blissful life would be devoid of everything that made the edges of her lips curl in a broad smile or a cloying laugh spilling from her throat. She wouldn't scribble half-intelligible reminders about what to buy at the store in faded ink on a neon-colored sticky note, trying to hunt down a spot where Tyson wouldn't be able to miss it. She'd go long, tedious nights without the presence of his warm, comforting body sliding next to hers under the soft sheets, the pull of his fingers on her waist as she rested the flat of her cheek against the bare skin of his chest. She wouldn't get weekend retreats with him after a tiresome, irksome week at work, seated firmly on his lap as his chin rested on the curve of her shoulders as they sat under glittering fairy lights spun around a back porch of a friend's house. She'd forget the afternoons he put his playlist in random order and allowed it to burst through every seam of their apartment, his inviting, hazel eyes coaxing her from her stubborn spot on the couch and into the hold of his arms where he could spin and dip her until he got her laughing. She would lose it all and have nothing to blame but herself and her ignorant wish for something other than the sting of his empty words. With a pain-full hiccup of breath that shuttered through her lungs, she understood leaving Tyson wasn’t an option; he was too deeply ingrained, and carefully extracting him from her side would rip apart herself along with him.

"I know you didn't," her reply is gentle and coaxing, a habitual response that they both know is an invitation to brush their destruction under the rug. It’s also a blatant wish for the brush of his soft lips against her cheek and the warmth of his strong arms wrapping tightly around her.

His footfalls sound against the dark wood of the living room floor, his smell hitting her nose before Tyson curls himself around her, fitting her perfectly against the plains of his chest, burying the tip of his nose into her sweet-scented hair. Breathing him in, she closes her tired eyes and savors the bittersweet moment. Taking in every press of his desperate fingers into the material of her shirt, the relaxed and reassured sigh that falls from his chapped lips, and the warmth of his body as he holds her in a tight, unrelenting embrace. Falling into the depths of his dishonest love, she reminds herself of the careful lies that have kept her figure in his grasp for this long. He's not the things he says, he's not the things he does. But even she can deny the sour, bitter taste of the wicked lie on her tongue as she harshly swallows it down.

His cold fingers cradle the line of her jaw softly, his dark eyes boring into hers as a small, delicate smile pulls at the edges of his lips. Involuntarily, she shivers against the coldness of his touch, a small, unwanted laugh spilling from her lips, causing the edges of his eyes to crinkle at the sound. His teeth gleam as he grins sheepishly at her, an apology falling easily- truthfully- from his tongue.

"I'm really sorry." The confession brushes over the bridge of her nose and onto the curve of her cheeks, settling deep into her skin. His forehead pressed against hers as he leans forward, willing her to understand the crack of his words. “I am so sorry.”

"I am too," she whispers, as if the smaller her voice, the more she'll believe every lie trying to keep her tied to the owner of the beloved boyish grin before her. She rakes in every warring emotion, tugging at the curls on the nape of his neck so he settles into the soft space between her shoulder and neck. Feeling the light touch of his lips against her neck, she returns the affection with a kiss to the top of his forehead, fingers carding lovingly through his mass of russet curls.

"I love you," she admits, a sliver of pain winding its way through the muscle of her heart. But it's not from the admission that causes her pain: it's from the unwavering honesty of the admission that sends her to her knees.

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

Text

Electric Feel - Tom Hiddleston smut

The one where Tom moved in to help you, but you end up helping each other.

Warnings: porn with a very unecessary and minimal plot, smut, dom!female, sub!Tom, masturbation (m), oral sex (f), mistress kink, brief mention of a stalker, actress!reader

Word count: 2k<

A/N: This is so small compared to everything @just-the-hiddles deserves, but it’s her birthday and I just couldn’t let it go by without a token of my gratitude, love and admiration! Happy birthday, Liz! I hope you know how much I care about you! ALSO: unedited for the moment because I just started and finished this entire thing in the last six hours when I should be studying but oh well.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I didn’t remember stopping to think for a single second ever since I saw the news. My fingers acted on their own accord, hitting those numbers I had memorized so long ago, raising the phone to my ear as I waited for her to pick up.

“Hello?” Hearing her voice didn’t calm me down like I expected it would. I realized then, I’d only feel tranquil once more when I could see her with my own eyes, touch her skin, feel her warmth.

“Darling? How are you?” I still asked, almost automatically, and if I had hoped she would at least be well enough to pretend to be okay, the sharp inhale that preceded her burst into tears shattered that illusion in a second. “I’m on my way.”

And that was how I ended up in her house in what felt like the blink of an eye. The trip there could have lasted days - all that mattered was that the second I had my arms wrapped around her, everything felt alright again.

“It’s okay,” I soothed her, but it was probably better directed at myself. “I’m here now.” It took at least a day before I was comfortable enough to ask her about it. “How did they find the guy?” When she latched onto a detailed explanation of the events from the last week, how she’d started receiving random death threats that suddenly weren’t so random anymore, I felt almost like I wasn’t even there, but floating over the living room, watching us talk from the outside looking in.

I held her close for a long time after that, unable to admit even to myself that not feeling her body against mine made me feel empty and weak. And so the feeling of protectiveness stirred awake inside of me - or maybe it had been there all along, I just failed to acknowledge it.

All I knew was that inserting myself into Y/N’s daily life was much easier than I ever expected it to be. And even if I told both her and myself that this was for her own safety, because she needed someone around until she felt comfortable by herself again, I knew it was more for my own benefit than anything else.

I just didn’t anticipate it would make my feelings that much harder to deal with. Did I know that I wanted her? Yes, maybe even ever since we’d met. And as our friendship progressed and we became closer, I saw that desire develop into something deeper, more solid. Still, I stupidly believed it was nothing more than a crush, and I’d be able to pretend it didn’t exist and get on with my life day after day like it wasn’t there.

Now that my days began and ended with her, I was highly aware of my mistake.

“Tommy,” she called out, making me lift my eyes from the tv and fall on her and the dog she currently tried to control. “I’m going to take her for a walk, okay?” I sat up automatically, ready to join her, when I felt a hand over my shoulder, gently pushing me back against the sofa.

“C’mon, finish the movie!” She admonished, a knowing grin on her face. “I think there’s a scene coming up with someone you particularly enjoy. I’m just going into the backyard, no need to worry.”

Even though I stayed seated where she’d left me, my eyes trailed over her figure as she disappeared inside the kitchen, until I heard the backdoor close. Despite knowing there was no possible immediate danger to her inside the boundaries of her own home, I couldn’t help but worry.

That was until a moan caught my attention, bringing it back to the tv once more. It sounded so familiar and so foreign at the same time, I was instantly intrigued, eyebrows furrowed as I struggled to identify the young woman that was being so brutally fucked by the main protagonist in a dark club.

My mouth hang open once the lighting changed and her face became recognizable, those same alluring features tempting me just as much as they tempted the character on the screen. So this was what she meant, I didn’t even know she was on this movie when I first picked it out.

I could feel my member hardening inside my sweatpants as her beautiful, melodic voice kept tempting me, and I grit my teeth as I chanced a glance at the kitchen, wondering how long I had before she was back. Not enough, I knew that. Still, looking down at my crotch made me believe it was worth at least a try, because the alternative was her surely seeing just how affected her little scene had made me.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The silence in the living room was my first indication that something was different, and as I stepped foot in the place where I’d left Tom not even five minutes ago, I realized my intuition was right - he’d abandoned the movie and left me alone in the main floor of the house.

Maybe he wanted to take a shower, or answer a call? I didn’t know, but I figured I should let him know I was back before he got worried, so I climbed up the stairs two at a time before stopping in front of the guest room he’d been staying in, suddenly frozen by what I heard.

“Y/N…” It was my name, breathed out in a whiney, raspy moan that left me no doubt over what was happening behind the door I now clutched so tightly. My mind drifted back to the movie we’d been watching, the scene I knew he’d see. Had I been the cause for his arousal?

My body acted of its own accord, the week of emotional tension before he arrived, replaced by the sexual energy that was always present whenever he was around finally getting the best of me.

I opened the door. His hand was curled around a large member, the sight of which had me whimpering as I clenched my thighs together, alerting me of my entrance. His eyes, which were closed, immediately widened upon seeing me, and he tried to cover his erection with both hands, even if it was obviously not possible to do so.

“Why are you shy?” I asked, head tilted as I analyzed the man before me, my mouth watering at the sight. I was desperate to give in to this desire, let go of the fears and anxieties that had been clawing at me ever since the first message arrived, and so I climbed on the bed like he was my prey, determined to make him crack and admit his own attraction to me.

“You called my name,” I noticed once I was on his lap, eyes taking inventory of every inch of pretty skin I couldn’t wait to bruise. “Don’t you want me?” At the sound of the insecurity in my voice, he jolted, eager to show that there wasn’t a reason for there to be any.

“Of course I do.” Smiling, I hummed appreciatively as I licked my lips, eyes darting down and seeing that he still hadn’t resumed his movements on his cock, even though it clearly needed some attention.

“Then why don’t you touch yourself while I suck little lovebites all over you huh?” Finally, I enveloped his pink lips with mine, eager to taste them, touch his tongue with mine. But I needed to see him cum way too badly, and I craved the control I knew I could exercise with him.

So I forced myself to pull away, laying kisses down his jaw until I reached his neck, starting to bite and suck there at the sound of his whines. Below us, I noticed he had started jerking off again, although hesitantly, and so I covered his hand with mine and forced him to get back to his previous pace.

“Show me how much you desired me,” I ordered, as he instantly fought back, “Kiss me again.” It was such a sweet request, and particularly in the breathless tone he tried to make petulant, it made me even more excited to play with the man I had wanted for so long.

“But do you really deserve another kiss?” I taunted, pressing them on his chest, on his biceps, anywhere other than his lips. He was breathing through his mouth now, long deep sighs being interjected by his moans and whines, and it all went straight to my panties.

“Yes,” he insisted, hand tightening around himself and a delicious blush spreading over his chest as I sat back on by heels to judge the hauntingly tempting image before me. He bit his lower lips in an effort to hold back his own sounds, but as I got rid of my clothes, his efforts proved fruitless, and a wanting cry escaped his throat as I forced him to quicken his movements once more.

“Oh, I see…” I wasn’t done teasing him, not by a long shot. “You’ve wanted me all along, haven’t you?” All he could do was nod, and I could see the underlying shyness in his reluctance to admit it.

“Well, I’ve wanted you too, baby. And right now, I want to suck you off until my jaw is sore, how does that sound like?” Another moan was all I got as a response, making me smile wider than I’d ever done before.

“But I don’t think you’ve earned it yet. So for now, all I’ll let you do is keep touching yourself while you suck on my tits, how about that?” His eyelids were heavy when he looked at me, having to throw his head back to be able to meet my eyes.

“Fuck… It’s… perfect.” I cooed at how wrecked he looked like, even with how little I’d touched him, my navel brushing his member briefly as we adjusted ourselves so he could wrap his lips around my nipple.

“Oh…” I gasped in delight as tingles raised up my spine at the pleasant sensation, and between us, I could feel his movements growing more desperate as my moans replaced his in the otherwise silent bedroom.

When I felt him spill all over my stomach, I pulled him away from my chest by my grip on his locks, finally giving him what he wanted and capturing his lips with mine once more. “Hmm…” I moaned once we parted and I’d scooped some of his release to give it a taste. “So sweet.”

Tom was looking at me like I was some sort of extraterrestrial being, chest visibly heaving in his effort to keep breathing. “Can I taste you know?” He at last managed to ask, and I pretended to think, before gently nudging him out of the bed and onto the floor.

“Yes,” I approved, wrapping his curls around my fingers again before bringing him down to the apex of my thighs, moaning as his tongue eagerly plunged inside of me, eager to get acquainted with the most intimate part of my body. “Who would have known you could be such a submissive little thing, huh?”

When he raised his head to answer, just the sight of my wetness dripping from the lower part of his face had my heart skipping a beat. “You should have known… A single word from you and I’d drop to my knees and worship you like you deserve… Mistress.”

#my fics #tom hiddleston smut #smut #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston reader #tom hiddleston reader insert #tom hiddleston reader inserts #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic

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ladymajavader · 3 years

Text

The Mystery of Michael’s Missing Spiral

I know the first rule of season 2 is we don’t talk about season 2 anymore, but this has been in my drafts for nearly 9 months and @lovecolibri expressed a passing interest, which was all the provocation I needed to push this out into the world. Behold - my saltmine post about what tf was Michael’s character arc in s2.

During pre-season 2 promos we were told a lot that Michael would be “spiralling”. There were reports of “misdirecting his anger”

What we saw was Michael picking bar fights, random women and getting drunk in 2x01. Was that it?

content warnings: I view his relationship with Maria as symptom of the problem, so the following will not be a nice read for Miluca shippers. Also there’s a lot of salt ahead. Let me know if I should add any other tags and warnings.

[Let me just put on my pretensious deerstalker cap and let’s go]

“Spiralling” implies getting lower and lower within the same vicious circle; falling on a curving path; getting quickly worse in a way that becomes increasingly diffcult to control. A short burst of bad behaviour, a quick touchdown to the bottom if you will, would more correctly be reffered to as “acting out”. A week of drinking and fighting does not a spiral make.

Yet it’s indisputable that after a week this behavior ends - Michael cleans up his act to start helping with getting Max back and to be good for Maria. So where are the lower rungs of the spiral?

“Misdirected anger” is even more elusive. Could it allude to Michael simply punching some guy in Wild Pony who did nothing to deserve it? That’s just a tiny transference to let off some steam out of the pressure cooker that is Michael’s emotions at the beginning of season 2.

Yet after 2x01 Michael doesn’t throw any undeserved punches (Wyatt fully deserved what he got), he’s also rather kind and sweet to people around him without letting his negative emotions affect how he relates to them... except for Alex.

Alex is the only person Michael is consistently mean to in pretty much every episode they interact. And I mean mean, as in maliciously negative. Even apart from every “breaking up” scene, he makes sure to invalidate their entire relationship as just sex and pain (’tortured lust’), Alex’s importance to him (making clear he was his last choice in 2x04) and even disparaging his character (calling one of his enduring qualities that he used to love ‘just stupid now’).

[Now let me settle in my pretensious shrink’s wingback armchair]

Michael endured unimaginable trauma heaped upon unimaginable trauma at the end of season 1. And while he acts out in 2x01, a week later he has miraculously compartmentalized and packed it away neatly to be the Perfect Boyfriend and a Good Brother. It’s as if his trauma doesn’t exist or affect him when he’s with anyone other than Alex with whom he’s able to let his emotions out - but also to start processing them when he calls to talk about Walt in 2x09.

In season 2 he also completely abandons what drove him in the previous two decades - the search for his home and pursuit of knowledge about himself as an alien. Not only does he stop trying to build his spaceship (framed as sacrificing that dream for brining Max back with the use of the genius alien pacemaker), he doesn’t use and train his powers at all the entire season (until 2x11). In season 1 he was the one using his powers most frequently, he had great control and clearly practiced. In season 2, just as Isobel is training her powers, Michael tries to cut himself off from his alien heritage. He’s the only member of the pod squad missing from the training Rosa scene, while theoretically, as the most practiced, he could be the best qualified to help.

And so I present to you my diagnosis:

“misdirecting anger” was Michael bundling up all the pain from everything that happened at the end of season 1 with all the pain connected to his relationship with Alex, channeling it all into anger. Unlike pain, grief, sadness, regret, guilt and shame - anger feels proactive and can be directed outwards. We’ve seen bb!Michael use it to (mis)manage his emotions at bb!Max before, it’s his established crutch and coping mechanism. And in season 2 he directed all of that negativity-turned-anger onto the person who was both connected to all the pain and safe to project onto, i.e. Alex.

Michael “spiralling” was him denying his wants and needs, hiding his depression, pain and trauma in order to be the Perfect Boyfriend and Good Brother just so that for once he wouldn’t be left behind and could avoid actually processing what happened to him. Hitting the bottom of the spiral was the moment Maria broke up with him, finally driving the point home that this isn’t sustainable.

Or, Michael acting so OOC in season 2 could just be the result of bad writing, twisting his character to hit plot points regardless of his established character traits and motivation or writers (or the Writer Formerly Known as the Showrunner) just intermittently forgetting he ever endured any trauma at all. But Michael’s character arc in season 3 reinforces my interpretation of season 2 as spiralling through repression instead of processing his trauma and completely mismanaging his emotions. After all, it was set up in season 1 that to heal he would have to reopen wounds in his mind... and we saw him doing that in season 3. And what a glorious sight a happy, settled and confident Michael Guerin, facing his fears and doubts head on instead of channeling them into anger and connecting with his alien heritage even if it’s painful, truly is. Anyways, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

#roswell new mexico #rnm discourse #michael guerin #rnm season 2 interpretation #anti Miluca #or at least not Miluca friendly #and in the same vein it's kinda anti Pod Squad #as neither Isobel nor returned Max bothered to probe beneath the surface of the Good Brother #to check how he's dealing with the unimaginable trauma he went through #(while at least Isobel go to talk about what Noah put her through - kinda. ish. and she was offered support)#I guess that's the problem with unimaginable trauma tv characters go through #the show cannot imagine how to bring them through it other than forget about it #Thanks for coming to my TED talk #welcome to the saltmine #call me Wieliczka

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spacedikut · 4 years

Text

starstruck ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: “Can I request some age gap Spencer x reader. Maybe he’s nervous about approaching her for a relationship bc she’s younger, but he’s so goofy for her it’s he’s in love obvious. Pretty pls 🥺💕” 5222 words

a/n: i didn’t specify ages cause i wasn’t sure what people would be comfortable with so i just mentioned an age gap and leave the rest up to you!! i would happily date someone twice my age but i also have daddy issues so :)

masterlist

The day has finally arrived.

Mollie can call you a nerd all she wants, but you know the second she lays eyes on Derek Morgan or Emily Prentiss she’ll change her tune.

This event has been in the university’s calendar since the beginning of the semester. At least two members of the FBI Behavioural Analysis Unit were promised to give a talk about their department, even taking you through a solved case like an interactive documentary, to encourage students to consider joining the academy post-graduation. There was whispers they’d even stick around after to answer some questions.

Your other friend, Jen, the one that understands your excitement, wrote your names down for tickets immediately. You’ve had a countdown on your phone ever since.

“They’ve announced a last-minute guest,” She beams, just as giddy as you. You’re wasting time at the coffee house near the auditorium, waiting for Mollie to arrive.

“Oh, really? Who?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

You almost drop your cookie in shock and stare at her, pupils blown.

“You’re a big fan?” She smirks.

As nonchalantly as you can, you lean back in your chair, “I’m a fan of his work, yes.”

“Oh, his work?”

“Don’t start.”

“I bet you love his work.”

“He’s well-versed and his papers are super interesting-“

“His papers are super interesting-“

“You are a child.”

Just then, Mollie appears, checking her watch. You wish you could kiss her in thanks for saving you from the teasing that would likely never end. “We’re gonna be late for your morbid seminar if you two don’t stop bickering.”

Jen downs the rest of her drink, you shove the last of the cookie in your mouth. Mollie watches your excitement in amusement – your heart starts pumping, whole body buzzing, the same nervousness you felt when you were a preteen right before your first ever One Direction concert. It’s the kind of nervousness that makes your palms sweaty.

Is it evolution or devolution to go from sweating over One Direction to sweating over FBI profilers?

+++

The seminar goes on for an hour, including the questions people ask throughout. It’s everything you could’ve asked for, entertaining and so, so informative and although you weren’t considering joining the FBI before, suddenly it’s all you can think about. Guest speakers have that affect, don’t they? They make you wonder if you should drastically change everything you’ve been planning.

Even Mollie, who you had to threaten to tag along, ended up enjoying herself. “Maybe I learnt a thing or two,” She’d said, rolling her eyes playfully.

You and your friends are some of the last to leave. There’s quite the bustling outside, which you assume is just post-seminar chatter, but you and Jen falter in your steps when you see the exact profilers that had been onstage several minutes ago in front of you, happily interacting and talking to fellow students.

“Oh, man,” Jen whispers, her and Mollie making eye contact across you. “I have to see if I can talk to Emily.”

Mollie encourages her with a frantic, “Go! Go!” while you’re rooted in place. Mollie jabs you with a pointed nail, “You in there, Y/N? I’m sure you have loads of questions for them-“

You stutter and shake your head, “N-no. I’m good. You can try and hit on Derek, if you want.”

You give a half-attempt at a smile, barely lifting the corners of your lips. Mollie recognises that look. She wants to stay with you, check you’re not too overwhelmed, but you shoo her away and send her towards Derek. You breathe a sigh of relief – you’ve been friends with her long enough that she knows when you need space.

There’s something about seeing people you admire so abruptly that totally throws you for a loop. All you had prepared for was seeing them from afar and subsequently talking about it forever, but nothing beyond that. In some circumstances, it’d be a pleasant surprise, but for someone that struggles around strangers and especially around people as admirable as profilers, you are not mentally prepared for this and have therefore shut down.

But then you see him.

He’s shuffling in place in the corner of the room, close to a large potted plant like it’s his only friend. He’s nibbling his lip as his eyes flutter around, never staying somewhere for longer than a second, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

Why is no one talking to him? He’s Spencer Reid.

There’s a couple of people surrounding Emily, fully entranced by whatever story she’s relaying, another few people around Derek, chortling at a joke he just made. Spencer glances between them and their audiences, and you can’t help but wonder why he isn’t right next to them, chatting away, too.

Does he not want to talk to anyone?

You should talk to him.

No. He probably wants to be alone.

Or what if he doesn’t and no one else is talking to him which means you can have a one-on-one conversation? What about that?

Are you insane?

…

You have to talk to him.

Before you can change your mind, you’re approaching him with a tight grip on the handle of your bag, pushing it higher up your shoulder. He spots you and makes eye contact just as you stop in front of him, and you notice he momentarily tightens his grip on his satchel.

Was this a bad idea?

“Hi,” You breathe, “I’m Y/N. A big fan.”

His eyes widen a fraction, which you don’t understand because why else would you be here, but he smiles nonetheless, “Hi, I’m, uh, Spencer Reid.”

“I know.”

“Yes, you know. That makes sense, because you were in the seminar. I saw you.”

Now you’re shocked. For as long as you can remember you never sit in the centre of a room, where most attention seems to go, so how did he-

“I-I always scan the room I’m in its.. it’s not a creepy thing, I swear. I’m not creepy.”

A laugh escapes you at that, making him visibly relax. “I don’t think you’re creepy. There was just.. a lot of people in there, so I’m surprised you remember my face.” You shrug.

I couldn’t forget such a beautiful face.

You don’t know what happens, but Spencer suddenly tenses up. His back straightens and he looks alarm, stiff.

Did he just think that? What.. why did he think that?

You wonder if you’ve said something wrong, so you try to change the topic.

“I-I have a question, if you don’t mind answering.”

Spencer nods with an of course, and when the question rolls off your tongue, his mind is still reeling from subconsciously calling you beautiful in his head. It’s not untrue, but it feels.. inappropriate. He doesn’t know why. But you are beautiful.

As he scans your face, now much closer than in the auditorium, he realises yeah, you are incredibly beautiful.

You wave a hand in front of his face, “Doctor Reid?”

“Sorry, yes, sorry. What are you studying?”

There’s a light in your eyes that Spencer recognises when you say, “Psychology.”

“Thought so.”

“You probably talk to a lot of psychology students. I-um. I almost went to Caltech,” Spencer raises an eyebrow, "After I read your dissertation, it really inspired me to look into it – your dissertation is incredible, by the way.”

Spencer smiles bashfully, a futile attempt to not allow the grin to overtake his face, and thanks you, “I appreciate it. Actually, I was sixteen when I wrote it.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Your eyes widen, “You’re insane! You’re amazing!”

The praise bursts from you, and his blushing face makes you oddly proud. On the other hand, Spencer feels like you’ve set him alight, his blood pumping loudly in his ears, as he’s unable to tear his eyes away from your smile.

He desperately needs to change the topic.

“To answer your question…”

Derek notices you two interacting across the room. Mollie sees him looking and hums, “Oh, that’s Y/N, my best friend. She really likes Spencer.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “Looks like he really likes her.”

“Don’t tell her that. She’ll collapse.”

They both watch you for a second, Spencer flailing his arms as he explains, you eagerly adding to his rambling, asking a question here and exclaiming some kind of encouragement there. It’s sweet, Derek thinks.

“Hey..” Mollie begins, a scheming look in her eye, “We’re planning to hang out in the campus bar later. It’s open to all and the drinks are cheap. If you and Emily happen to find yourselves looking for something to do and you drag Spencer along.. I’m sure Y/N would like it.”

“I like the way you think,” Derek says, “I’ll see what I can do.”

+++

“She’s getting hit on. Again.” You giggle, gesturing for Jen to turn around and witness Mollie get your drinks paid for by a random guy.

She’s always been a people person – it’s saved you hundreds on nights out.

All Jen does is glance over her shoulder, scoff, then turn her sceptical eyes to you.

“I saw you and Spencer Reid.” She says, twinkling eyes. She’s trying not to look smug.

“I almost proposed to him.” You joke, taking your drink from Mollie with a mumbled thanks.

“Oh, I bet you did,” She laughs, “You two looked sooo good together.”

“Alright,” You slide a shot to each girl, “I know you’re making fun of me, but I’m taking that compliment and cherishing it. Spencer Reid is cute, what of it?!”

You clink the shot glasses with your friends and down them, all wincing at the taste and giggling at Jen when she takes a gulp of her cocktail to wash away the taste of straight vodka.

“How did talking to Derek and Emily go?”

And then Jen starts chattering away.

You miss the bar door opening behind you, But Mollie notices. She’s been watching the door since they got here, conveniently choosing the table with the best view, just in case some profilers decided to stop by.

Derek catches Mollie’s eye and winks.

“Well I never,” Mollie fakes shock, “Look who just walked through the doors.”

You turn and choke on your drink. Emily and Derek look relax, like they’re home, but Spencer?

He looks just like he did earlier: like there’s a million places he’d rather be.

He’s lost the blazer he was wearing earlier, leaving him in a fitted purple shirt with a matching tie. With the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, you can see his firm hands and the silver watch that rests on his wrist – is it possible for a watch to be sexy? Or maybe it’s just cause he’s sexy?

That shot must be getting to you.

“What the hell are they doing here?” You hiss, a sharp whisper piercing the air as you turn and (terribly) try to hide your face.

But Spencer’s seen you. He spotted you the moment they came in – he recognised your clothes and your hair – and the second he did he turned right back around to exit the bar. Derek’s arm stopped him at his chest, like he does to unsubs, forcefully turning him around and laughing when Spencer tensed up.

“What, Reid? Scared of a pretty girl?” Derek teases, much like he’d been doing since he spoke to you earlier.

“I am scared of college girls, yes. Last time I was in a college bar I was twelve and downed shots of apple juice.”

“What?!” Both Emily and Derek stop short, looks of disbelief at the revelation. “You’ve never mentioned that.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“We,” Derek places his hands on Spencer’s shoulders, directing him to your table, “Are just gonna have a few drinks and talk to a few people, and then you’re gonna explain that apple juice story in explicit detail- hey ladies!”

Jen and Mollie look overjoyed at the new company, while you stare rigidly with distinctive what the fuck eyes.

“Would you mind if we joined you?” Emily asks, with a sparkling grin that no one could say no to.

“Of course not,” Jen grins, like it’s the most obvious answer.

The empty seat next to you is taken by Spencer (Derek discreetly shoves him) but right before he’s firmly placed on the stool, Emily calls out, “Spence, why don’t you get us some drinks? You still owe us after you lost that game of gin..”

“I didn’t lose.” Spencer huffs indignantly, “You cheated.”

Despite his grunts, he stands to make his way to the bar, but not before-

“Y/N!” Mollie beams, “It’s your turn to get the round, if you’d be so kind.”

You know that look on her face. You hate her, you realise, but you also love her because being alone with Spencer sends a thrill through you.

Alone with Spencer. What the hell are you supposed to say to him?

You follow him to the bar. He leans against it with an awkward smile.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey.”

“It’s uh.. it’s been a long time since we’ve seen eachother.” It’s a half attempt at a joke, followed by instant regret. But then you giggle and everything feels right in the world, even Spencer’s sucky joke.

“It has been a while, Doctor Reid.” You say. The bartender approaches, takes your orders, then you turn to Spencer, “What brings you to a college bar, of all places?”

“Well,” Spencer glances over your shoulder to your table. He makes eye contact with every single person there, all watching you two interact, and they all sharply turn and try to play it off like they’ve been talking casually. Spencer’s brows furrow a little. “Derek said the drinks are cheap and our hotel is only a couple blocks away. I don’t know, maybe Derek likes college girls.”

You laugh again, and Spencer has to take a second to realise you’re not laughing at him but at what he said about Derek. “Yeah, Derek seems like a real ladies man.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.” Spencer grins, “We once timed him to see how long it would take to get a girls number and he did it in five minutes. And he said he was having a bad day.”

The drinks are placed in front of you. Neither of you notice.

You unconsciously lean closer, saying, “Have you timed it to see how long it takes for a girl to approach him? That’s gotta be, like, maybe ten minutes?”

“Eight minutes and twenty-three seconds.”

“Well damn. Has he always been so…” A hand gestures in the air, looking for the word.

“Promiscuous?”

“I was gonna say free.”

“Free?” Spencer giggles, “That’s very nice of you.”

You shrug, “I don’t judge.” Spencer agrees, and it slips out, “What about you?”

You wish you could shove the words back in your mouth. Even more so when his expression changes. You can’t entirely make out what it is, but even in the dimly lit bar you can see the flush of heat that spreads through his cheeks to his ears.

“Are you asking me if I’m free with the ladies?” He murmurs, suppressing a grin.

You give an awkward laugh, wondering if you’ve overstepped a boundary, “Yeah. But that’s kinda weird to ask, so-“

“I’m so popular with the ladies it puts Derek to shame.”

You can’t hide your surprise. “What? Really?”

Spencer caves. “No. Is it that hard to believe I’m a ladies man?”

“Compared to Derek? Yes.”

Spencer scoffs.

+++

“As adorable as they are, it’s been thirty minutes.” Emily sighs. “I want my drink.”

“They’re bonding,” Jen sends a wistful look, “I’m so proud.”

“I’m guessing Y/N isn’t the most social either?” Derek asks, proudly watching you interact.

“She’s the best, just a little shy sometimes.” She smiles at you, even though you can’t see, “She’s an idiot, but our idiot, you know?”

Both Emily and Derek laugh airily, nodding with a, “Yeah, we know.”

At once, three phones vibrate throughout the bar – Emily, Derek and Spencer. They’re instantly filled with disappointment; Derek can’t watch Spencer attempt to flirt with a girl he’s obviously interested in, Emily still hasn’t got a drink, and Spencer has to leave you and he can’t think of anything worse.

He’s clearly hesitant when he looks at his phone. How does he say goodbye? Does he ask for your number? Would that be weird? That would be weird.

“Uhh…”

You channel every ounce of liquid courage you have in your body and offer, “Would it be weird if I gave you my number? Just.. for anything. Anything at all.”

Spencer nods, a gentle look in his eyes and a smile on his face, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You mumble an alright, accepting Spencer’s phone and creating a new contact for yourself.

Please text me. You think. Please text me.

+++

He doesn’t text.

It’s been a week. A week. You know how cases are, some take longer than others and some are solved in literal hours, but it’s been a week, Spencer goddamn Reid, so why haven’t you texted me.

That’s when the doubt creeps in. Your friends keep telling you he’ll text, that he’s just busy (“He’s an FBI agent, Y/N. If you start dating you’re gonna have to get used to lapses in contact.” To which you’re too distracted choking at the mention of you two dating), but you can’t help but wonder if he took your number simply so he could leave quicker. He had a case to get to, after all. He had people to save.

Now you feel guilty. You forced your number on him, didn’t you? Oh God, he hates you. He hates you and you forced your number on him and he hasn’t texted you because he’s filing a restraining order against you because he hates you.

Mollie tells you you need a nap.

+++

Spencer spends the time on the jet back from the case staring at your number. He has it memorised, of course, and has had it memorised from the first time he read it, of course, but he can’t bring himself to do anything with it.

All he’s done is change your contact picture from the standard first letter of your name to a cute picture of a frog Garcia sent him. It reminds him of you.

Derek lowers his headphones, “You texted her yet, Pretty Boy?”

“Huh? Uh, no. I don’t think I will.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer shrugs, locking his phone and placing it face down. “I don’t think anything would come from it.”

“Kid,” Derek leans forward, eyebrows furrowed, “You two talked for well over thirty minutes in the middle of a college bar about God knows what. Maybe I’m easy to impress, but that seemed pretty special to me.”

“How is talking in a college bar worth anything?”

“Because you’re Reid, who, most of the time, has to be physically dragged into a bar. You hate talking to strangers about anything other than work. Y/N? A stranger. What did you two talk about?”

“We talked about you a little.”

“Uhuh. About how good I am at my job?”

“God, no,” Spencer scrunches his nose, “We talked about your charm with the ladies.”

Derek falls back in his chair and scoffs, “I’m flattered, but that doesn’t sound like work-talk to me. So you’re comfortable with her. I saw you laughing, so she makes you laugh, too. Sounds pretty great to me.”

Spencer stares. Derek’s right, but..

“So what is it, Reid?”

Spencer licks his lips. “Do you think she’s too young for me?”

Derek rarely looks taken aback, but he does now, “Too young?”

“She’s in college. I’m-I’m-“

“A legal adult. As is she.”

Spencer slumps. “A 2014 Current Population Survey found the average difference for a heterosexual couple is two-point-three years, with the man older than the woman. Even if you double that, that’s still less than me and Y/N-“

“Four years isn’t a lot, Spence,”

“You just.. you don’t think it’s weird?”

“No. Do you?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

Derek’s conviction gives Spencer some reassurance, but he can’t help himself when he thinks that.. maybe.. you’ll find him boring. Most people seem to, with all his statistics and figures and facts, but with the added element of you living it up at college.. how could he compete?

“I think you’re worrying over nothing, Reid. You haven’t even texted her, and you’re already worrying about stuff like age gaps?” Derek crosses his hands and looks at Spencer with determination, “She gave you her number. She initiated it. She knows who you are, so she knows how old you are and it doesn’t seem to make her uncomfortable. So, why should it make you?”

Spencer just grunts.

“Are you worried people will say things?”

“I guess.”

“People always say things. You know that better than anyone. So screw ‘em.”

Spencer feels a smile creep onto his face.

And Derek relaxes. He’s planted the seeds, that Spencer is fretting over nothing, now all he’s got to do is wait for Spencer to let it sink in and allow the flowers to bloom and, next thing you know, Spencer’s gonna have himself the perfect girlfriend.

And Derek will take too much credit for it.

+++

“Heeeeeeeeey my precious Doctor…”

Garcia looks like her hand was caught in the cookie jar.

Spencer’s back straightens. “What did you do?”

She looks embarrassed, fiddling with the fluffy pen in her hand. She smiles awkwardly. “Derek may have told me about a pretty little college student that captured your heart, and then he told me you also haven’t texted her yet, so I did a little digging and…”

“You cyber-stalked Y/N?” Emily asks, casually. JJ seems unphased at the discussion. Does everyone in the office know about you?

“I did. I’m guilty. I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.” She’s speaking a mile a minute.

Emily spares Spencer a glance, “Did you find anything?”

“Well…”

Concern fills Spencer. “Did something happen?”

“I just found some stuff she’d probably only tell a close friend and I feel really bad about it.” Her shoulders are by her ears as she tries to fold in on herself out of guilt, “But other than that she’s a genuinely sweet girl who volunteers at pet shelters and the college library in her free time and we have really similar music tastes so I think we’d make great friends.”

They all look to Spencer, waiting for his reaction. What? Is he supposed to be surprised that you’re the epitome of perfect? He’s not. He studied you the entire time you spoke.

“She’s also written several incredible papers on child development that I think are revolutionary and I totally emailed them to you because I think you should read them. She’s also a genius.”

Spencer’s hand twitches. He ignores the sudden need to check his email.

It’s silent as they just stare at him. He doesn’t say anything and tries not to react, but he does. They notice how his eyes flicker to his phone, how his leg fidgets, the longing in his eyes.

Emily brushes her hair back calmly and asks, “Hey, Pen, when does Y/N work at the college library?”

Penelope doesn’t catch on at first, casually replying, “Oh, basically every day from five pm onwards. They’re a twenty-four hour library and she combines working and studying.” When she sees Emily pointedly look at Spencer, she goes ohhh.

“Good to know,” Emily nods, “Good to know.”

+++

Spencer finds himself at the college library that night.

He wants to say it was an accident, or that he just happens to know there’s a special edition of a specific book here, but he’d be lying. He read your papers between reports, and found himself having a deep appreciation for the way you write – he wants to ready everything you’ve ever written. Every essay, every note, every formal and informal piece of work you’ve ever done.

He’s already fallen in love with the way you write. He doesn’t think he’s far from falling in love with you.

He wanders around the lower floor of the library. It’s impressive, he must admit, and he’s disappointed in himself for not visiting earlier. There’s students everywhere, but he notices some other people mixed in too – professors, businesspeople, as well as parents with their children.

He feels a little less weird for creeping around now.

Not that’s he’s creeping. He’s just.. there. To see a certain someone under the guise of looking for a book.

He moseys for a while, from the fiction section to the non-fiction to comics to autobiographies. You’re nowhere to be found – not between the rows of books, not working on any of the desks, not at the centre reception desk.

Until you’re suddenly behind him.

“Spencer?”

He jumps, looking up from the book he’s reading. Your voice is as calming and smooth as always.

“Y/N. Hi.”

“Hi,” Your brows are furrowed, but you’re not disappointed by the unexpected visitor. “What are you doing here?”

He lifts the book he’s holding, an Arthur Conan Doyle, giving a light lipped smile. “I’m just looking. I didn’t realise the college library was so plentiful – did you know the oldest library in the world dates from the seventh century BC?”

“I do, actually.” You point to a poster behind him, which displays that exact fact, “I thought dotting facts around the library would be interesting for the kids. They seem to like them.”

“Learning in young children is socially mediated, so good quality learning environments outside of their schools is crucial for children’s development. So, in a way, you’re enriching their lives beyond understanding.”

You’re flattered at his somewhat far-fetched attempt at complimenting you. It makes your heart flutter.

Why didn’t you contact me, you dimwit?

You open your mouth to ask another question, ask if there’s something he needs help finding, when he beats you to it.

With a firm grip, he slams the book he’s reading shut and says, “I’m lying.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t come here to.. look around. I came here to see you.”

“Oh.”

Spencer doesn’t know what to make of that. You haven’t awkwardly looked away, or stepped back to increase the distance between you. That means something good, right?

“You didn’t text me, so I assumed you weren’t interested.” Your brows twitch, and you back-pedal, “Unless you purposely didn’t text me because you actually weren’t interested and you might be here to see me but for something book-related rather than me-related and I’ve totally humiliated myself.”

“No, no. You’re right. You’re right.” He fiddles with the book in shame, “I should’ve texted you. I just didn’t know what to say and.. Well, it’s stupid.”

Your head jerks a little to the side, something he’s noticed you do a lot, looking patient and too pretty for him to handle. “I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

Spencer thinks back to his conversation with Derek, specifically the reminder that you gave him your number which means you initiated this so yes, you are interested in him.

It’s just.. when he looks at you, he struggles to believe it a little. You’re breath-taking.

“I’m worried I’ll bore you.” He starts light, easing you into what’s been troubling him. He’s emboldened by the fact you’re clearly frustrated he didn’t text you.

You give him a look of horror, “The first time we met I told you I loved your dissertation on geographic regression. I definitely do not think you’re anything anywhere near boring.”

“Okay,” He nods, “What about our ages?”

You’re confused. “What about it?”

Spencer mirrors your expression. “It doesn’t.. bother you?”

“Does it.. bother you?”

Usually, answering a question with a question is a sign of deflection, a sign of hiding something. However he doesn’t know why, but Spencer trusts you with his life. Maybe not his life. Maybe his heart.

“Does that silence mean yes?”

He shakes his head, “No. It doesn’t bother me. I just worry that, you know, college years are the so-called best years of your life and I don’t want you to regret being with me, someone older than you, and resent me for it, or something-“

“I think you’re getting way in your head, Spence.” You laugh a little, “We haven’t gone on a single date and you’ve convinced yourself of so much already. For the record, no, your age doesn’t bother me in the slightest. It never has and I doubt it ever will. I think you’re the most fascinating and interesting person on this planet, and if anyone is getting bored with anyone I’m pretty confident it’ll be you getting sick of me. And,” You take a breath, “I think I’m old enough to know what I want, who I want, and what I want is you. If you want me, too.”

Spencer shoves the book back into the bookshelf with a satisfying sound, then turns and quickly places a kiss onto your cheek. It’s completely unexpected and, quite frankly, not something you’d expect from Doctor Reid, but you blush and there’s a definite red colour to Spencer’s cheeks, too.

“I will never, ever, get sick of you.” He says, voice small but firm. “But I don’t want you to regret being with me. Promise me you won’t.”

You give him a look that tells him you think he’s ridiculous. “I promise that I won’t regret being with you. I’d like us to last as long as possible, if I can be picky.”

“I’d like that, too.” He murmurs. The thought of you wanting him for as long as possible almost sends him into a frenzy. He wants to kiss you all over.

You stand close and talk quietly for a while, a little more discussion on a possible date that weekend and a constant stream of compliments from you to Spencer and vice versa, before you realise the time.

“I should probably go. I have a paper to finish.” You smile sadly, a tiny pout forming.

“I understand. Do you think I could read it? When you’re done?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Do you know how terrifying the idea of the Spencer Reid reading my work is? But yes, anything for you.”

Anything for you. Are you trying to kill him?

You turn to leave, refusing to admit how sad leaving Spencer makes you feel, when you stop, “One more thing.”

Spencer hums. He’s not fully paying attention, praying to whatever Gods exist that killers take a break on the weekend so he can take you out on the sweetest date.

“If age is a sore area for you,” There’s mirth in your eyes and Spencer prepares himself, “Does that mean the nickname old man is off the table?”

His lips purse and move towards his nose as he narrows his eyes, giving you a look of faux annoyance, “I am not an old man.”

“Sounds like you’re sensitive, old man.”

As you walk away, you jokingly blow him a kiss to add insult to injury. His pretend glare lasts until your back is turned and he feels his gaze softening to something akin to love.

Spencer thins if the rest of his life is this, you teasing him with that twinkle in your eye and smile on your face, then life is truly the most beautiful thing.

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