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atlabeth · 7 days ago

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(please) spare me indignity

pt 3

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you and spencer spend more time together. it's bad, then it's good, then it's something else altogether.

a/n: continuing the gideon!reader series! a whole lot of this is arguing because they love each other fr. sorry this took so long, for some reason i had a really hard time finding my footing here but i hope you enjoy!! reader is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse bc this may be s1/2 spencer but he is not going to not be standing up for himself!! have this new banner that i made to try and help with my inspiration. title is from nothing new by rio romero

wc: 5k

warning(s): r and spence argue some more. angst, hurt w/o comfort, then hurt with comfort! idk theyre kinda sweet

You and Spencer spend the next six and a half hours watching movies.

You make it through Goodfellas and you only tell him to be quiet twelve times. You take a break to get water and make popcorn, which was so generously provided in your grocery supply, and while you’re doing it, Spencer insists on picking the next one. You end up watching Psycho, and you don’t think he lets a single scene go by without explaining the meaning behind it.

You choose Notting Hill after, and he knows just as much. He picks Halloween—it doesn’t really help your stalker anxieties, and Spencer apologizes profusely when you bring it up, but you still end up finishing it. Next you go for Pointe Grosse Blank, then Spencer picks Kolya, a Russian film that he specifically put into the box.

There are subtitles, but he spends half the time translating for you anyway—apparently there are nuances to the script that an English translation doesn’t get compared to the original Russian, and that would be a tragedy.

He’s in the middle of his third rant going on seven minutes when you finally break.

“Okay,” you say as you reach for the remote, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You do a double take when your hand meets another instead of hard plastic, and you see Spencer beat you to it. You pull your hand away as soon as possible, feeling your face heat from annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” he echoes. “The movie’s not over yet.”

“I can’t take any more of your rambling,” you say. “I’m cutting you off.”

He frowns. “We have to finish the movie first.”

“What are you, a broken record?”

“I couldn’t be a broken record because I said two different things,” he protests. “Besides, what else are you going to do?”

“Unpack my things? Read a book? Sit in silence staring at the wall in my room?” You shrug as you stand up and walk over to the kitchen. “I’ve got a lot of options.”

“Gideon told me not to let you out of my sight,” Spencer says, standing up as well.

“You can see me pretty well from there,” you say. “You don’t have to invade every bit of my privacy.”

“I— I kind of do,” he says. “The whole point of a safe house is to keep you safe. If you’re off doing your own thing, it’s not really safe.”

“It’s not like I’m leaving!” You throw up your hands in exasperation. “What, are you going to sleep with me too? Make sure I don’t go anywhere in the middle of the night?”

It’s almost funny how fast his face flushes bright red. You’ve got a feeling he doesn’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.

“That’s what I thought,” you say. “Keep watching your movie if you want. Just leave me alone.”

You feel his eyes on your back as you storm off to your room. The childish part of you wants to slam the door, but you decide to throw Spencer the smallest bone and leave it open.

It’s not his fault that you hate him, and that just makes you hate him even more. He gets to come out of this the bigger person, a saint for putting up with your various deficiencies while keeping you safe from a stalker. You’re just the difficult, ungrateful, estranged bastard daughter of the most deified man in the Behavioral Analysis Unit who can’t set her personal grudges aside for her own good.

You shove your duffel bag into the bed with a little too much force. You unzip it, deciding to try and occupy yourself with unpacking. You’re here for the indefinite future, so you might as well make yourself at home.

You can’t help the dry laugh that comes at the thought. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt at home anywhere.

This might be the worst thing about this whole situation. You’ve got a stalker out there, and it’s making you do all this bullshit introspection against your will. It’s got you thinking about your dad and your relationship with him, and thinking about Spencer Reid and how he’s replaced you in your father’s life without even really knowing about it because he didn’t know about you until he walked into your dad’s office a month ago.

Ten minutes pass in a blur before you’re knocked out of it by a rapping on your door. You turn to see Spencer standing in the doorway, expression unreadable.

“What?” you ask.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says. “I’m just checking in.”

“I’m still alive,” you say. “Nothing exciting happened in the five seconds I was gone.”

“It was ten minutes and thirty two seconds, actually,” he says. “But— but good.”

Again, more silence passes between you. You look up at him from your pile of clothes after thirty seconds.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“I— I don’t know what else to do,” he stammers.

“Didn’t you say you did something like this before?” you ask. “Guarded some girl from her stalker?”

Spencer nods. “She was a lot easier to get along with.”

You roll your eyes. “Somebody out there wants to kill me to get back at my dad. Sorry that I’m not the pinnacle of happiness.” You make a point to avoid his gaze. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’ve done this all before. You should have some kind of idea of what to do besides bothering me.”

“How am I bothering you?” Spencer asks in exasperation. “I’ve said three sentences to you!”

“Everything you do bothers me, boy genius,” you say. “I thought you would have figured that out by now.”

“I—” He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he just clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head before he walks away.

You stare down at your pile of clothes, largely unfolded and scattered around the bed. The silence doesn’t give you the satisfaction you thought it would.

It only lasts for all of thirty seconds though, and you don’t have time to linger in the discomfort—you hear footsteps, heavier ones this time, and you look up to see Spencer round the corner once again.

“What is your problem with me?” he blurts out.

You frown. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Spencer nods. “You hate your dad, fine— but he’s not here for you to fight with, so you’re taking it out on me. It’s classic displacement, and you don’t get to take it out on me.”

“Why not?” you ask.

“Because it— it’s not fair!” he sputters. “I didn’t do anything to you— I didn’t even know you existed until a month ago!”

“Well, gosh, boy genius,” you say, “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out yourself.”

“Stop calling me boy genius!” he exclaims. “We’re the same age!”

“Then stop acting like one,” you retort. “I know you’ve got a psychology degree, but you don’t need to use them on me whenever you can.”

He frowns, his mouth opening for a second before he closes it.

“Were you going to ask how I knew that before you realized the obvious answer?” you ask.

“No,” he says.

“Yes, you were.” You continue folding your clothes. “You went to Caltech, MIT, and Yale, even though it was your safety school. You’ve got three PhDs, two BAs, and you’re working on a philosophy degree, but you’re not done with it yet.” You shrug. “A little difficult to make it to classes with all the FBI stuff.”

“…Does he really talk about me that much?” Spencer’s voice is quieter than it was before.

“Oh, yeah,” you say. You set a finished pair of jeans to the side then look at him. “I graduated from college too. Granted, it was a couple years ago, not when I was 17, but I think it still warrants a little support.”

“You went to George Mason,” Spencer says.

Your movements stutter. You weren’t expecting him to actually know.

“Yeah,” you say. Your heart skips a beat. “How do you know?”

Has he talked about you to the team before? Sure, they didn’t know you existed before you showed up out of the blue, but maybe he showed them a picture after it happened. Your mom carries one of you in your cap and gown in her wallet—maybe he got a hold of one and Spencer caught a glimpse of that. Maybe you just missed it and he does have a picture of you on his desk. Maybe—

“You have a sweatshirt for it,” he says with a gesture. You look where his finger is pointing, and sure enough, your GMU sweatshirt is tangled up with a couple of other crewnecks.

“…Of course,” you say. You don’t know why you even dared to hope. “Because it’s more likely that you’d notice something like that than it is for my dad to talk about me.”

Spencer says your name, and you hate the sympathy in it.

“No.” You cut him off before he can get any further. “Don’t try to defend him. You know,” you huff a cold, humorless laugh, “he missed my graduation, too. Two separate dates for commencement and my actual school’s ceremony, one 45 minute car ride, and he couldn’t make it to either one.”

“You don’t know how busy we are,” Spencer tries again. “We work weekends and holidays and around the clock— sometimes we get called in at 3am to stay in some random town for weeks at a time, and there’s nothing we can do about it! I— I mean, we’ve had three days off in the past 47 days and—”

“That’s why I have a problem with you!” you cry out, throwing the shirt in your hand onto your bed as you turn to face him. “Because I’m twenty-four years old, and I’ve lived an hour away from my dad for the past six years, but his team that he spends all his time with didn’t even know I existed until I showed up at your office.” You take a step forward, anger resurging inside of you. “Because I threw away a chance at an Ivy to get to see him more, just to deal with the same bullshit as usual. Because I worry about him dying every single day he’s in the field, and he can’t even give me a phone call at the end of it all—” another step forward— “and even in the middle of this shitshow, you think you have a right to defend him— to- to tell me how to feel about him!”

You move even closer, close enough to see his wrinkled button-up is partially untucked, his lips are slightly parted, and his stupid doe eyes—that haven’t left yours—with his stupid dilated pupils, and you jab your finger in his chest.

“Because all I ever wanted is my father’s affection,” your voice breaks, and you hate the way it makes you feel, “and he’d rather build an entirely new life with an entirely new kid than give it to me.”

You push your way past him, making sure to shoulder-check him on your way out. You don’t look back as you forge your way to the bathroom (that you unfortunately have to share), even though his gaze burns into your back.

You close and lock the door. It’s childish, you know, but you need to be alone right now. You can’t stand to be around him.

Spencer just— he irritates you in a way that no one else ever has. He’s your age and more accomplished than you could ever dream to be, with almost six times the degrees and a much better job, and probably a family that loves him. Who wouldn’t love him with everything he’s done?

You, apparently.

You plant your hands on the countertop as you stare into the mirror. Your usual dark circles have become more pronounced over the past month, and you can’t help a wry laugh at the thought. All that trouble sleeping and it was for the wrong damn reason.

If you knew someone was watching you, you would have moved out of Virginia months ago. But maybe this bastard would have found you anyway. If Spencer’s profiling is right and he’s going after you because of your dad, you don’t think much could really dissuade him.

Tears pool at your waterline, and you wipe them away with a rough hand before they can manifest into something more. You slump back against the opposing wall as you continue to stare at yourself.

You’re pathetic and you can’t even find it in yourself to care.

You hear the sound of footsteps once more and you wrap your arms around your midsection. This chill won’t go away.

“…Are you still alive?” a hesitant voice calls.

You bite back a remark. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“No.” You don’t know what makes you answer honestly.

A beat of silence passes. You really do feel like a kid. You’re talking to him through the door because you just yelled at him and Spencer is still being the bigger person.

“Can I help at all?”

This answer comes a little quicker. “No.”

Again, more silence.

“Okay.” Spencer pauses, and the footsteps start again. His voice is a little closer the next time he speaks. “Just… let me know when you’re turning in. So I know you’re still alive.”

You huff. He can’t even stick to his guns and hate you like you hate him for ten minutes. “I don’t think I’ll be dying anytime soon.”

“You never know,” he says. “Spontaneous human combustion might not be proven beyond pseudoscientific concepts, but there’s a first time for everything.”

The laugh that comes out of you is unexpected, both in its lightness and occurrence at all. “Keep an ear out for the smoke alarm, then.”

“If you smell anything burning, stop, drop and roll,” he says. “Make sure you don’t run. All it’ll do is add to the oxygen and feed the fire.”

“Okay,” you say. “…I still don’t like you.”

You swear you can hear the smile in his words. “I know.”

You wake up when the smoke alarm goes off.

It’s a very rude awakening. It jolts you out of your very uneasy sleep to unfamiliar surroundings—in your disoriented state, you almost forget where you are.

Right. You’re in a safe house in the middle of nowhere because someone is stalking you. How could you possibly forget?

You stumble out of bed, rubbing your eyes to try and assuage some of your exhaustion as you leave your room.

“Is the place on fire?” you ask through a yawn.

“No!” Spencer exclaims, sounding more panicked than usual. That straightens your back and speeds your pace. “No, everything’s fine—”

You smell smoke, and as you come around the corner, you see him waving his hands overtop the toaster trying to dispel said smoke. You can’t help but laugh, and you actually smile when he gives you the most helpless look.

“I’m so good at so many other things.”

“What are you trying to do?” you ask wryly. “Burn this house down to try and get a better one?”

“This wouldn’t have started a fire,” Spencer says. “Toaster fires usually spread because they’re below wooden cupboards, which catch easily and spread everywhere else.” He gestures at the toaster, which he has plugged in to an outlet on the side of the island. “No cupboards, no house fire.”

“You started this because you were making toast?” you ask.

He flushes. “I’m used to the toaster I have at home. I have the settings worked out perfectly there. This one is all wrong.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just… hit the reset button, and open the door. It’ll be fine.”

“I can’t open the door,” he says. “It goes against the safety thing.”

“Then open a window.”

“Making it easier to get in here in any way goes against the safety thing,” he says.

“So we have to just deal with the smoke?” you ask in exasperation.

Spencer hits the vent button on the microwave, and the fan whirs into action. “No?”

You shake your head in disbelief as he then reaches up to hit the button on the smoke alarm. His t-shirt lifts with the movement—your eyes drift to the bare strip of skin, and you immediately look away when you realize.

“Where’s the coffee in here?” you ask, clearing your throat as you start sifting through drawers. “I’ll be even worse to deal with if I don’t have caffeine.”

“I already brewed a fresh pot,” Spencer says, gesturing with his head. “Half and half is in the fridge, and sugar is in the cabinet.”

“Oh,” you say. You stop what you’re doing, your hands lingering above the drawer handle. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You see him shrug out of your peripherals. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Because I was a total asshole to you last night, you want to say. Because I’ve been awful to you since I met you and you refuse to fight back and give me a better reason to hate you.

“Because you didn’t need to,” you finally say. Good one.

“I did. So you’re going to have to deal with it.” Spencer takes the burnt toast out and throws them in the trash can, talking while he does it. “You know, it’s actually a rumor that burnt toast contains carcinogens and can increase the chance of cancer. Acrylamide forms when you burn food, but researchers haven’t found a link between starchy foods with high amounts of acrylamide and cancer.”

You hum in some form of acknowledgement as you take a mug out of the cabinet and fill it from the pot. You take a sip and grimace—it’s not the best, but it’s caffeinated. After three years of shitty gas station coffee throughout college, you can deal with it.

“How did you sleep?” Spencer asks.

“Fine,” you say.

He frowns. “Really?”

“Yes,” you say, a little rougher. “The dark circles come with the model.”

“There are a lot of causes other than sleep deprivation,” Spencer says. “Contact dermatitis, hyperpigmentation, dehydration, alcoholism, stress—”

“Got plenty of that,” you interrupt.

“Even genetics can play a part in it,” he says.

You huff. “I think this is one thing I can’t blame my dad for. I haven’t slept since the nineties.”

“Well, you should try,” Spencer says. “The blood vessels around your eyes don’t constrict like they should when you’re sleep deprived, which means your blood vessels dilate, which increases blood in the area, and that gives you dark circles.”

“Wow,” you say wryly. “I really look that bad with them?”

“I— that—” Spencer’s face flushes red as he stutters, and you hide the slightest smile with your mug— “that’s not what I mean! I’m just trying to give advice to help—”

“I know.” You set your mug back down, not able to fully bite back your amusement. “I was joking, Spencer.”

“Oh,” he says. “That’s… new.”

“Am I not allowed to joke?”

“It just doesn’t seem like you,” Spencer says. “Especially after last night.”

“I’m too tired to fight with you right now,” you sigh. “Enjoy your break.”

He clears his throat as he takes two fresh pieces of bread out, then looks at your mug. “You drink it black?”

“It’s not coffee if you don’t,” you say. “It— it’s a sugary mess.”

“It is not!” he exclaims. “It still has the same amount of caffeine, and it’s still coffee—”

“No it isn’t!” you laugh, and you nod at his mug. “How much sugar did you put in there?”

“A couple spoonfuls but—”

“Spoonfuls?”

“But it’s how I like it!” Spencer defends.

“Don’t you have some facts about how harmful excessive sugar consumption is?” you ask.

“Of course I do,” he says. “I also have some about the benefits of black coffee, but I’m not going to tell you now.”

“Wow,” you say. “I’m so hurt.”

He shakes his head as he slots two more pieces of bread into the toaster. “And to think, I was trying to make breakfast for you.”

Again, that gives you pause. Why does he keep trying to do nice things for you?”

“Don’t bother.” You pick up your mug and go into the living room. “I don’t really eat breakfast anyways.”

“That’s not healthy,” he calls after you.

“Most things I do aren’t,” you respond. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“Skipping breakfast puts you at a higher chance of heart disease,” he says.

“Then I guess we won’t have to worry about the spontaneous combustion, will we?” You look back at him. “What’s on the agenda?”

Spencer sighs. He’s given up momentarily, it seems. “Gideon’s going to call me in thirty-two minutes for an update. The whole team has been focusing solely on your case.”

You perk up. The coffee warms your hands through the mug but it doesn’t fully assuage the chill down your spine.

“Do they have any leads?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer says. “Gideon hasn’t called me yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Do you think they have any leads?”

“Maybe.” The toaster pops and he pulls the bread out, then starts buttering it—or trying to. His brow knots in annoyance at the stick of butter, still hard, and he pushes his glasses up with his free hand. You have to look away. “Like I said, Gideon helped start the BAU. He’s solved more cases than anyone else, and,” you feel his eyes on you, “it’s personal this time. He’s probably working around the clock.”

“Just have to hope they get somewhere,” you murmur. Your coffee tastes even more bitter than usual, but you drink it anyway.

“They will,” Spencer says. “I promise.”

“Y’know, people keep making promises they can’t keep,” you say. “I’m getting real tired of it.”

“Well, I’m not leaving your side until they do,” he says. “And I’m going to keep you safe. So consider that promise kept.”

“Great,” you say. “I’m stuck with you until I die or this is solved.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“You don’t have to take everything I say so seriously.”

“Then don’t say everything so seriously.”

You huff a laugh and shake your head. Spencer comes over with his plate of messily buttered toast—not very easy with fully solid sticks of butter—and sits down across from you. He holds the plate out.

“Want one?”

“I told you, I don’t eat breakfast.”

“You should.”

“Because one piece of toast will make so much of a difference,” you mock.

“It will,” he says. “Maybe it’ll even make you happier.”

You roll your eyes and drink more of your coffee. “Are you going to bother me all day like this?”

Spencer took a bite of toast then shrugged. “If you’re this blase about everything relating to your health, then yes.”

You groan as you stand up. “It’s too early to deal with you. See you in a few hours.”

“And good morning to you too,” Spencer says wryly. You make a parting gesture with your hand in response.

It’s been a day and a half, and not only have you argued with him twice, but he still refuses to give you anything to work with, still insists on trying to be there for you. It’s as infuriating as it is gratingly admirable. Anyone else probably would have tried to kill you by now.

Well, you’ve already got a stalker trying to do that.

You sigh and down half your coffee. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.

Spencer doesn’t know why you not liking him bothers him so much.

It’s illogical, but it makes sense for you. Your dad spends more time with him than he does with you, and you’re projecting your hatred for Gideon onto Spencer. Whatever.

But it’s not just whatever, and that irks him.

This is an assignment, simple as that. Gideon trusted him enough to put you under his protection, even if it’s for your mental health more so than your physical. It should be a point of pride, being chosen for something like this by someone like Gideon.

Spencer presses his fingers against his temple. You’re a lot, there’s no way around it. But you also claim to hate him, and he knows that’s not true.

Yes, you argue with him. Yes, you’re short with him. Yes, he lost his temper momentarily because not even Spencer is capable of endless grace.

But he also sees your moments of lightness throughout it all. Your brief smiles, the quips that lean towards jokes more than insults—and he notices your eyes, and the brightness that breaks through on occasion.

He always notices your eyes.

Spencer’s phone rings in his pocket, jolting him out of whatever reverie he found himself in. He pulls it out and flips it open, then presses it to his ear. “Gideon?”

“Reid,” he greets. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he says. “You’re calling twenty-four minutes early.”

“We just finished a briefing,” Gideon says. “I wanted to get word to you as soon as possible.”

Spencer sits up. “What is it?”

“Morgan, Hotch, and Garcia have been working together to comb through my past cases and see what they’re up to now. They finally found a potential unsub,” he says. “Someone I put away a decade ago was released last year, and recent records indicate he’s back in the area.”

“Who is it?” he asks.

“Adam Hernandez. Also known as—”

“The Stafford Strangler,” Spencer finishes. “He killed three people in two weeks in the 90s—classic spree killer. You caught him with David Rossi’s help.”

“Released on good behavior, despite the victims’ families campaigning against it,” Gideon says. “You know it?”

“Obviously,” he says. “I’ve read all of your old case files.”

Gideon chuckles, and he can almost imagine him shaking his head. “Of course you have.”

“Do you think Hernandez is your guy?” Spencer asks.

“I’m not sure yet,” Gideon says. “We applied for a warrant—as soon as we get it, Morgan and Elle are heading his way to ask a few questions.”

“You think he’d do something like this?” Spencer shifts his position as he frowns. “Hernandez got fired, lost his house, then went off the deep end. He killed because he didn’t see any other solution. The guy going after your daughter is a lot more emotional about all this, and—” his throat feels dry all of a sudden— “and it’s like he’s got some kind of attraction to her.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Gideon says roughly. “We’re going for leads where we can, and we’re still working every other angle. It doesn’t end with Hernandez.”

“...Good,” Spencer says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help from here.”

“You’re already doing everything I need you to do.” Gideon pauses, and he hears the creak of the chair in his office as he adjusts how he’s sitting. “How is my daughter doing?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Her mood changes with the wind. One second she’s trying to start a fight with me, the next she’s trying to joke around with me. It— it’s a lot, I won’t lie.”

“But how is she handling all of this?” he asks. “Staying in the safe house, dealing with a stalker, feeling like a sitting duck.”

“Very cynically,” Spencer says. “She keeps talking about dying or getting killed.”

Gideon sighs. “That sounds like her.”

“She’s… she’s mad at you, mostly.” Spencer picks at a hangnail, ignoring the sharp, temporary pain. “Every time I bring you up, it lights a fuse. You’re the one thing she hates to talk about.”

There’s nothing but silence on the other end.

“Gideon?” he asks. “Did I lose—”

“I’m here,” he interrupts. “Just… thinking.”

“It’s not your fault,” Spencer says. “She’s—”

“It is my fault,” Gideon interrupts again. “Has she told you much about her younger life?”

“...Some,” Spencer says.

“Like?”

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t want to just tell Gideon that you’ve told him he’s been an awful dad. That it’s really all you’ve told him.

“You can say it, Reid,” Gideon says. “I won’t get mad.”

“...She says you’ve missed out on her whole life,” Spencer finally says, notably quieter. “Her high school graduation, her college graduation— most of the stuff that happened in college, actually.”

Gideon lets out a rough sigh. “I’ll always regret it.”

“So it’s true?” Spencer asks. He’s surprised at the sharpness of his voice.

“I don’t get to control when cases come in,” he says.

“We’re a whole team of qualified agents,” Spencer says. “We— we always have been. Especially when you and Rossi were together. It was like the golden age of profilers.”

“Spencer—”

“You made it to my graduation!” he interrupts. “You were there for my chemistry PhD, and you said you would be there when I get my philosophy degree, but you couldn’t make it for your only child’s high school and college graduations?”

“I already told you I regret it,” Gideon says. His voice is as calm as ever, and for some reason, that irks Spencer even more. “What more can I say? It’s in the past now. I can’t change what I did.”

Spencer stares at the wall. He doesn’t know why this is such a damning thing to him.

His own dad has missed all of his graduations. He’s missed almost every part of his life. But his dad walked out—he wanted nothing to do with Spencer or his mom.

Your dad is right here. Gideon is still around, working every day to save lives and change the world and take down monsters—but he’s still not there for you.

He’s so close and yet he always steps out of your reach.

“Spencer.” Gideon’s voice is tinny through the speaker, and he presses his phone back against his ear.

“Call me back the second you get another lead,” Spencer mutters.

He hangs up without another word.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #gideon!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #x reader #sadie writes #and yes. reader heard spencer's whole side of the convo<3

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covenofagatha · 1 month ago

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Two professors and a student (part 6)

This is the longest thing I've ever written so please enjoy

Word count: 4300

Warnings: fingering, oral, semi-public, orgasm denial, implied overstimulation, strap-on, edging maybe?, bondage, sex toys, reader is a brat, voyeurism

It’s been a week since the spring semester started, and you’ve barely seen Rio and Agatha at all.

You had spent practically the entire holiday break entangled between the two of them in their bed.

Or on their couch. On their table. Even in the shower.

The memory makes you blush and you can feel your clit start to pulse because you haven’t been touched in days.

The beginning of the semester was always a frantic time for professors, which you soon found out. While you were chilling with your syllabus quizzes in most of your classes, Agatha and Rio were already emailing back and forth with students and dealing with those who were adding or dropping and working on their lectures.

You hadn’t even tried to set up a time to get dinner or hang out because you didn’t want to add more to their plates. You figured when they had some free time, they would reach out.

But today, you’re tired of the waiting. You are needy and desperate, and feeling like a little bit of a brat.

So after your one class for the day, you stroll to Rio’s office. You try the younger woman first, thinking you might have better luck. Rio seems to at least appreciate taking a break from her work every now and then and she might be in a generous mood.

You knock on the door and wait for her to tell you to come in. Pushing it open, you find Rio at the window, pouring a cup of water into a vase with beautiful flowers.

“Forget me not,” she says, glancing at you and then back to the plant. Is she telling you to not forget her?

You don’t think you could.

“What?” You ask, stepping inside and letting the door close.

She walks back to her chair and sits, lounging back to assess you. “The flowers. They’re called Forget-me-nots.”

You nod. “Ah.” Sometimes it feels like Rio is having a completely different conversation with you than the one you think you’re having.

She smirks. “What’s up, doll? Having a good start to the semester?” You pout dramatically and slowly saunter over to her side of the desk and lean against it.

“Yeah, it’s been alright, I’m just a little stressed already and I haven’t seen you or Agatha in awhile, so I thought I’d come pop by,” you say, your voice dripping with suggestion.

Rio’s tongue presses against the inside of your cheek, a quirk you find yourself always entranced by, and she chuckles in amusement. She pushes her chair back and turns it so she’s facing you directly.

“Thought you’d come pop by to…just say hi?” She says, eyebrows raising like she knows what you want but she’s going to make you work for it.

Luckily, you’re prepared for this. Getting what you want with these women is never easy, but you’ve learned.

“Well,” you start coyly, head tilting to the side and giving her your best sad doe eyes. “I was hoping I could do a little more than ‘say hi.’ I’ve missed you. It’s been so long since we’ve spent some quality time together.”

“Doll, these are my office hours. Anyone could walk in right now,” Rio warns, but the look on her face tells you that she doesn’t really care.

“I can lock the door,” you say, sounding a little too eager.

She studies you with her intense gaze, eyes raking up and down over your body, and you fight the urge to squirm. “You’re such a desperate slut, aren’t you? Coming in here when anyone could walk in, begging to be fucked. You’d probably like it if someone saw, wouldn’t you?”

Your lips part, a forced exhale coming out of them, and your eyes glaze over at the thought. You’re not sure if Rio’s going to give in though, so you play your one last card.

Shrugging dismissively, you wait until she leans forward a bit, encouraging you on. “If you’re too busy, I’m sure I could go find someone else to spend quality time with,” you say, and her eyes flash just like you’d hoped.

Whether you’re talking about Agatha or a random stranger, Rio doesn’t care to find out.

She reaches out, grabs the belt loops on your jeans, and pulls you forward so you crash onto her lap. She makes quick work of unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts and she slides her hand inside.

“Wow, doll, you’re soaked,” she says and your sensitive clit pulses when she presses against it. You whimper, the urgency of the situation also affecting you, and she shoves two fingers inside you.

Your head drops back at the stretch and your heartbeat quickens while you wait for her to fuck you so well, like she always does, but she doesn’t move.

“Rio,” you whine, pleading for her to do something.

An evil smirk spreads across her face. “Oh, no, doll. You’re the one who wanted this so badly, so you’re the one who’s going to do something about it.”

You grunt in frustration but begin to ride her fingers, bouncing up and down faster. Your arms wrap around her neck for leverage as she holds her hand still and leans back to watch you appreciatively.

“Rio, please,” you beg. While it feels good, it’s really hard for you to get her fingers deep enough to the right spot like this, and she’s not even touching your clit. “I need more, I can’t.” You roll your hips to no avail, the pleasure staying the same.

She huffs, mouth twisting into a cruel smile. “Too bad, slut. This is all you get.”

You grumble in frustration, forcing your hips down as far as they’ll go to take her fingers as deep as you can get, and rut back and forth. This position works a little better and you can at least feel the sensation in your body heightening.

You also find that grinding against her hand like that also means her palm is right against your clit and you’re finally able to get somewhere.

“There we go, doll. You’re so smart, I knew you’d figure it out eventually,” she drawls but you’re exerting yourself so much chasing your high that you can’t respond. You can feel yourself getting closer and your walls begin to flutter more around her fingers, and from her tell-tale smirk, she knows it too.

You’re just about to crash over the wall of pleasure and cum when she finally moves.

But not in the way you’ve been wanting.

Her fingers pull out of you faster than you can blink and her hand swipes across your face, smearing your wetness over your lips.

“What?” You cry, completely dumbfounded, tongue instinctively darting out to lick, and she laughs.

“Do you think a brat like you deserves to cum?” She asks and you nod furiously, willing to do anything it takes to get her to put her hand back between your legs. But she grabs your waist and gently shoves you off until you’re standing again. “Well I don’t. Now get out of my office, I have work to do.”

Disappointed, and still massively turned on, you decide to see Agatha in her office. It might take a little more coaxing with her, but you bet that if you work hard enough, you could wind up with her fingers in you as well.

And Agatha never leaves a job unfinished.

When you push open the door to her office, she’s in the middle of reading something, chewing on her pen in her left hand.

You’re not sure why, but the fact that the older woman is left handed does something to you that you can’t quite explain.

She looks up, and her face brightens. “Hey, sweetheart, what brings you over here?”

“Nothing much, just wanted to say hi. It’s been a bit,” you say sweetly, walking over to her desk to lean against it, just like you did with Rio. Agatha instantly pushes back to give you more space. She gives you a soft smile.

“I know, baby. Rio and I were thinking maybe we could all do something this weekend? If you’re free of course. We just know how busy we’ve been and we feel bad that we’ve been neglecting you.”

Her words are coated in sugar and they make you feel so much better, and normally, those would be enough to satiate you for now, but your brain is completely fogged with desire.

You frown. “This weekend? But that’s so far away.” You drag the word out petulantly, making her laugh.

“Aw, poor baby,” she mocks. “Is someone not getting enough attention while Rio and I are working?”

You stick out your bottom lip and shake your head, trying to look as pathetic as possible, hoping she takes pity. “You could make it up to me right now?” You offer.

“What would Rio think?” Agatha whispers conspiratorially and you debate whether or not to tell her that you don’t think she’d mind as her girlfriend’s fingers were just buried inside you.

But you don’t want to risk Agatha getting upset.

“I won’t say anything,” you say instead. Agatha thinks for a second and looks back at the pile of papers on her desk, worrying on her bottom lip. You feel a sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Why don’t we make a deal?” She says, turning back to you, and your spirits jump. “Get on your knees under this desk and if you can make me cum before I’m done grading these papers, I’ll reward you.”

You fall down to the floor so hard that you can feel the impact in your teeth but you don’t even wince and crawl so you’re where she wants you. You know why she did that; the desk completely covers any sign of you, so if someone were to walk in, you would be totally out of sight.

A little different than Rio, who let you ride her fingers in plain view, door unlocked. You both could’ve been in serious trouble had someone interrupted.

Agatha’s wearing a dress so it’s easy to hike up the hem to her hips. You gently blow over her underwear, smile as you watch her shiver, and turn your head to leave a trail of kisses over her inner thigh. Her hand comes down to tangle into your hair and she yanks it roughly.

“I would hurry up if I were you,” she hisses. “I only have about ten more of these to grade.”

Sufficiently spurred on by her warning, you pull her underwear to the slide and drag your tongue forcefully up her slit, making her hips jump. You moan at her salty taste and her musky smell that fills your nostrils.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” she chuckles and you lay off on the pressure a little while you lap at her clit. You can hear her make little gasps, but you can still hear her pen scribbling, so you lick even harder.

There’s the crinkling of paper and a louder moan, and you smirk into her pussy. Her hand tightens in your hair, a silent message, and you move down to dip your tongue into her opening and stroke against her walls. You’ve realized that you’re also making noises, but they’re muffled by her body.

And then there’s a knock on the door and you jerk so much that your head hits the desk above you. You bite back a strangled groan as her hand swats your cheek and then it retreats back up on top of the desk.

“Come in!” Agatha says, voice shaky and she clears her throat. You grin to yourself.

“Hi, uh, Professor Harkness?” It’s a man, a student of hers, if the nervous twinge in his tone is any indication.

“Yes, that’s me,” she snaps out, maybe harsher than she intended it to.

She shifts in her chair and you realize that her legs are still partly open. A wicked idea runs through you and you gently pry her thighs apart even more. She tenses under you, and you freeze, just to make sure she doesn’t want you to stop.

And then she opens them wider and your heart almost stops.

“I had a question about the syllabus,” the kid says and you roll your eyes. Poor Agatha and Rio for having to deal with incompetent students. At least you might be able to help her here.

You suck her clit between your lips and take a great deal of pleasure in how her voice breaks in the middle of her sentence. You can only hear tidbits of their conversation with Agatha’s thighs crushing your head (what a way to go, though) but you think you can hear her words getting higher and higher as you continue your administrations on her pussy.

You thrust your tongue inside her hole as far as it goes and curve it, and you hear her break into a loud fit of coughing, presumably to hide a moan. You speed up and suck harder on her clit, scraping your teeth against it just to see if it does the same for her as it does for her girlfriend, and you’re delighted when it does.

Agatha’s legs tremble and her walls clench around your tongue the next time you lick inside. Your jaw starts to hurt but your face is drenched with her wetness and you don’t dream of stopping.

And you can tell she’s getting close.

“Thank you very much, Professor,” you hear the kid say, sounding far away. “I hope you feel better.” Then there’s the sound of the door closing.

You laugh into her pussy with your tongue inside her and the vibrations send her over the edge. She cums all over your face, free now to make noise and grind her cunt on your mouth.

You continue softly licking, even slurping once or twice, just so she’s completely cleaned up while she slumps against her chair. When you finally look up at her, she’s already staring at you, eyebrow raised.

“I made you cum before you finished grading the papers,” you say proudly and she snorts.

“That was a dangerous game you played,” she says lowly, fingers wiping her wetness off your cheeks and sticking them into your mouth. You suck, flicking your tongue around them, never breaking eye contact until you finally see a hint of a smile from her.

You sit back on your heels. “A deal is a deal.”

She chuckles darkly. “It sure is. Why don’t you come sit on the desk?”

You’ve never moved so fast in your life, scrambling to your feet and then plopping down, legs already spreading. She stands up so you have to look up at her and then her fingers are opening your jeans.

There’s a mutual gasp when she first slides her hands into your underwear, her from how absolutely soaked you are, and you from how close you already are. Being denied by Rio and then making Agatha cum has you positively dripping.

“Someone liked that,” she muses, sliding a finger into you. Your back arches and you let out a throaty groan. You know it won’t take very long for you to cum at all and it’s the only thing you need right now.

She pushes a second finger in you, and then a third, and she stretches you out so nicely and curls her fingers and rubs your clit with your thumb and you’re so close, so close, reaching the edge –

– and she stops.

Your eyes fly open to find her smirking at you. Before you can say a word, and in remarkably close fashion to her girlfriend, she pulls her fingers out of you and you clench around nothing.

“Why?” You wail. How is this the second time this has happened in less than an hour?

Agatha grabs your jaw and forces you to look straight at her. “That’s for your little stunt under the desk.”

You gape at her. “I gave you a chance to stop me, I paused and you opened your legs!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says innocently and you whine, hands scrambling for purchase on the front of her dress, trying to pull her back into you. “Now you better get going, I have a meeting in ten minutes. And stop pouting, fix your face before I do it for you.”

You roll your eyes, dropping the pitiful act, button up your pants, and storm out of the classroom.

It’s two hours later and you’re still stewing over being refused an orgasm twice when you get a text from Rio: We’re outside your dorm. Come down.

You debate pretending to not be home, but ultimately respond that you’ll be down in a minute.

They better be fully prepared to make it up to you.

“Hey, baby girl,” Agatha says when you slam the door to the backseat shut and you know immediately that something is wrong.

“Hey,” you answer tentatively.

“How was your day?” Rio asks.

Hang on.

Are they acting weird because they both don’t know that you had sex with each of them? And they’re trying to keep it a secret from each other?

You feel like you can breathe a little easier now. “Pretty good. How about you guys? Finish all your work?”

You can play this game too.

They both hum in response and nothing else is said on the way to their house. It’s strange and you begin to get the prickly feeling on the back of your neck, like you’ve just wandered into their trap.

When Agatha parks, you wait for them to get out of the car before you do and you follow them inside and up to their bedroom.

“What’s going on?” You dare to ask.

They share a look and then glance back at you. “Isn’t this what you wanted, doll?” Rio asks. “The both of us?”

Your mouth goes dry and you eagerly nod. They both chuckle and Rio walks over to grab something from the nightstand where they keep their toys. Your breathing quickens, immediately back in the same lustful state you were earlier.

And then Agatha flips you around by the shoulders and Rio ties silk around your wrists to bind them. You struggle and look at them, shock written all over your face.

“You think you can mess with both of us?” Rio says into your ear, shoving you onto the bed by the arm. You almost fall back without the use of your hands but you manage to keep your balance. “You think acting like a brat will give you what you want?”

Agatha trails a finger lightly down your cheek and you try to open your mouth to catch it but she pulls away too fast. “Imagine my surprise,” she says and you know that this won’t be good. “When Rio told me that you stopped by her office earlier begging for her fingers. And after she didn’t let you cum, you came to me, hoping I would give you the relief you so desperately needed.”

Rio comes back into view with a strap and a harness and you gasp sharply. She hands it to Agatha, who pulls up her dress and steps into it.

“And when I heard what you had done to Agatha,” Rio starts, breaking off to giggle darkly. “I knew what we needed to do.”

“See, a brat like you needs to be put in her place. Shown what happens when you misbehave,” Agatha taunts, fastening the harness so the purple cock juts out from her hips.

“You know what happens when you misbehave, doll?” Rio asks, dropping her pants to the ground and revealing her pale white legs.

You squirm against the bed and your restraints, needing to touch or to be touched. “What?” You whisper.

Agatha leads Rio over to the vanity in the bedroom and bends her over on the counter so that their backs are to you.

But they’re looking into a mirror. Your breath catches in your throat when they both lock eye contact with you through their reflections.

“You don’t get fucked,” Agatha says, rubbing the toy up and down Rio’s folds. “You just have to watch. And just in case you get out of those restraints and try to touch yourself, we’re watching you the whole time.”

You moan involuntarily at the memory of you disobeying their orders the first night you slept with them.

How it had led to four orgasms.

But you’re quickly pulled from the memory of that when Agatha begins to slowly push into Rio, the younger woman’s head falling forward onto her elbows.

“Uh uh,” Agatha tuts and pulls her hair so that her face is looking in the mirror again. You feel a thrill run through you when you meet Rio’s eyes that are glazed over with pleasure. “Keep your eyes on her and why don’t you tell her how good I’m making you feel? Just so our little brat knows exactly what she’s missing out on.”

You whimper but you can’t move because you’re so enthralled by the sight when Agatha starts to pick up her face.

“Oh god, you feel so good inside me,” Rio moans and you want to cry. Heat has settled into every crack and crevice in your body and your head feels dizzy. “Aggie, your cock, oh god, fucking me so good, please don’t stop, right there.”

It’s like you can feel it too, the overbearing pleasure you are sure is washing over her.

“Taking my cock so well,” Agatha grunts, slapping Rio’s ass and Rio groans. “This is what happens when you’re a good girl.” Your eyes dart up to meet Agatha’s in the mirror and you can see her smirk. “When you behave, you get rewards. When you’re a brat, you get punished.”

You exhale in time with Agatha’s thrusts into her girlfriend and you ever so slightly dare to grind your hips on the bed. The seam in your shorts lines up directly with your clit so you’re able to get the slightest bit of relief.

“So good, Aggie, gonna cum all over your cock, you’re fucking me so good,” Rio keens and you’ve never heard her be this vocal before. You know it’s just because Agatha told her to rub it in, but it’s turning you on so fucking much you wouldn’t be surprised if there was a puddle on the bed through your jeans.

You switch between looking at both their faces in the mirror and the toy sliding in and out of Rio’s pussy with ease. It is such a delicious sight that you want to drop to your knees, crawl over, and hold your tongue there just to feel it.

“Please, Aggie, please, right there, gonna cum, fuck baby, so good,” Rio chants and your face burns. You’ll never get tired of watching one of them cum, it’s the hottest thing ever. But you’ve also never felt an ache so deep in your bones like this one.

You think if one of them touched your clit, you might spontaneously combust.

“Come on my cock,” Agatha growls, somehow thrusting even faster into her. The sound it makes when Agatha slams all the way in and claps against Rio’s ass echoes in your head, along with Rio’s tiny gasps and Agatha’s pants of exertion. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”

How are you overstimulated when there’s nothing even happening to you? Can you cum without being touched? You wonder if you’re about to find out.

Rio’s entire body convulses and this time, Agatha allows her to drop her head down while the older woman continues to move in and out of her. You’re practically shuddering on the bed from need.

“Poor slut,” Rio chuckles weakly, observing you in the reflection. “Who knew watching would get you so desperate.Think we have a little voyeur on our hands.”

Agatha pulls out and you feel yourself clench as you see Rio’s swollen and red pussy looking thoroughly ruined. Agatha turns to you and your mouth falls open, a stream of begs and pleas for them to touch you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she says, walking to the nightstand again and pulling out another silk ribbon and a vibrator. You gulp as she comes back near you and you move further onto the bed. “Did you finally learn your lesson about misbehaving?”

You nod. “Yes, Agatha, I’ll be good, I promise, just please let me cum.”

“Oh, we’re going to let you cum alright,” Rio says with a smirk, coming over to hold your legs open. Before you can ask what they’re doing, Agatha turns the vibrator on and presses it against your clit.

Something akin to the noise a dying animal makes escapes your mouth and pleasure washes over you as you cum immediately.

But she doesn’t take it off.

Instead, she positions it so it rests against your pussy by itself and then Rio ties your legs together with the silk so tightly that your clit has direct stimulation.

You try to force words out but you’re already close to cumming again. You try to move so that you can get the vibrations to ease up, but there’s no moving with the restraints on your wrists and ankles.

You are truly bound.

“You wanted to cum so badly, angel,” Agatha says, walking to the door with Rio in tow. “You’re going to get as many orgasms as you could possibly want.”

You gasp, tears already pricking in your eyes, as you cum again.

Rio smirks and gives you a wave. “See you in a bit.”

And then they’re gone.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #agatha all along #agatha x rio #rio vidal x agatha harkness #rio vidal x reader #agathario #agathario x reader #rio x reader

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candy-rat · 1 year ago

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☀️ˏˋ°•*⁀➷✧Puppy Love✧

♡ Percy Jackson x Fem!Apollo Reader

♥︎ Summary: you attempt to teach the cute boy you may or may not have some feelings for how to better work a bow and arrow. || Percy blurb!

☆ Warnings: None!

(ofc i know the relations between Apollo, Zeus, And Poseidon but the readers relation w Percy and the reader is the same w him and annabeth so use that info as u must)

★ A/N: I’ve only ever read the first and a bit of the second book + the two movies so this is based off the new series(Walker Scobell) + plus I have the BIGGEST crush on Walker Scobell.

♪ Credits: Ty Bunny’s RPH for the divider<3

+Barely Proof read

It was another sunny day at Camp Half-Blood, kids either chasing each other around or actually putting effort to train and what nots.

Surprisingly the archery field was as empty as ever, which is why you find yourself here.

As the daughter of Apollo you tend to neglect your gift of archery rather finding yourself in simple socialization, but today you thought differently.

Your dad would be proud, wouldn’t he?

As you were in the middle of your archery session you swore you heard the sound of bushes rustling.

The sudden noise caused you to turn around, trying to identify where the noise was coming from.

You were met with the sight of a boy.

Not just any boy.

Percy Jackson.

With earlier memory you can recollect, the boy was definitely not the best with a bow and arrow, so why would he be here?

“Uh, hi” the boy spoke up.

“Oh uh, hi?” You responded in a confused yet optimistic tone.

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

You’ve seen the boy on multiple other occasions, you never really talked to him before.

To be honest with yourself, you probably had the slightest crush on the boy.

The tiniest one of course, you barely knew him.

“So, do you need something? Or?” you spoke, breaking the silence.

“Oh! Uh yeah I did, yeah.” He replied with a slight crack in his voice.

Another moment of silence.

“Uhm, what do you need, uh Percy was it?” You questioned.

You didn’t need to ask, of course you knew his name.

It’s not creepy, word just gets around you know?

“Yeah uh that- that’s my name, you’re (Name) right? Daughter of Apollo?” He asked.

“Oh yeah, that’s me.” You replied.

“You’re like really good at archery right?” He asked once more.

“You could say that, being the daughter of Apollo kinda you know comes with it, but my older siblings are definitely better.” You confirmed.

“Well I was uh wondering-“ he responded.

“Mhm?” You simply hummed in reply.

“If you could, i don’t know uh teach me how to get better at archery?” He finally let out.

You looked at your bow and back at Percy.

You wonder exactly why he asked you.

Maybe he just came here in hopes to ask the first person he sees, or maybe he was looking for you specifically.

That’s a nice thought.

“Really?! Okay, I don’t mind!”you replied.

“You don’t?!” He replied.

“Of course not! I don’t have much to do anyway.” You giggled.

Before anything you told him the basics, how to stand, how to correct your breathing, and how to aim better.

The day went on.

Percy missed the target completely most times.

But once he finally got remotely close, you had to say you were proud of the blonde.

You were happy to even spend time with him.

“There you go Percy! That was great, you’re getting better!” You chuckled, swinging you arm over his shoulder squeezing him a bit.

He froze at the sudden contact for a moment.

“Thanks! I really c-couldn’t have done it without you, you know!” He went on blushing.

“Awe don’t sweat it, it comes naturally so I never need to put much in to it, but thanks!” You thanked the boy, feeling your face heat up.

Percy handed you the bow back queuing the end of your lesson.

“You know if you ever want me to teach you again I’d be happy to, just swing by cabin 7 I’m usually there.” You mentioned.

“Yeah sure, but about that-“ he started.

“About what?”

“Well uh, seeing each other again you know? Like not during training” He blushed.

“O-oh! Yeah i wouldn’t mind at all, I enjoy your company!” You responded.

“Really?!” Percy added.

“Yeah really.” You confirmed.

“I uh- like being around you too.” Percy smiled.

The two of you got along perfectly.

Like a puzzle piece.

You definitely had a crush on him.

He might like you back.

Percy definitely is too scared to confess anytime soon.

And maybe that’s good.

Love takes time.

Especially puppy love.

A/n: innocent puppy love is deff the vibe I’ll always go for with my Percy fics so hopefully I’ll have time to do more (Miles 42 fic in the making!!!!)<3

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo series #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #walker scobell #Walker Scobell<3 #Writer #writers on tumblr #x reader #fanfic #x reader fanfiction

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neiptune · 8 months ago

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surreal, but nice

cw: 7k wc, female reader, strangers to lovers, osamu doesn't exactly know how to handle one of the most famous music artists in japan suddenly popping in onigiri miya, inspired by notting hill, my sappy entry for the romcom collab hosted by @bloompompom! thank you @yellow-sword-lily, this fic is also a little yours :)

Miya Osamu is a creature of habit.

He gets up fairly early, showers, never leaves the small apartment without fixing himself a nutritious breakfast, more or less knows and is therefore prepared to what to expect from each particular day.

Downstairs there’s his beloved shop, a dormant creature he gently stirs from sleep each morning. When he doesn’t have to head to the market to select and order the freshest products, Osamu starts the day by contacting all his suppliers and arranging the deliveries. He then checks the inventory, reviews reservations, welcomes the only other chef to discuss any special preparations or new experiments. It’s not unusual for him to check his emails, monitor the website and official social media of the shop, the one thing he actually hates doing because he knows damn well one negative comment will ruin his day, especially since there’s nothing he can do to rectify mistakes made days, sometimes weeks before.

He has a chef, one dishwasher, three servers, two food delivery drivers and that’s about it. Osamu Miya is the owner, manager, host, executive chef, server and cashier of onigiri Miya. He juggles management skills, culinary talent and business acumen just perfectly. He’s prepared and knows exactly what each day has in store for him.

Until you happen.

Osamu has been cooking for almost three hours by the time the shop officially opens at 11AM. It’s not unusual for new faces to come in from time to time, despite his clientele being more or less established, but it is rare to hear the little door chime ring so soon. Except if his dumb brother happens to be in town.

But you’re not his dumb brother. You’re a new and yet strangely familiar face, even hidden behind thick sunglasses and a beret that one could deem more appropriate to a parisian getaway rather than a Kansai one.

“Morning” you offer a little bow, hesitant by the door “you’re open, right?”

“Uh, sure” he smiles, still a little uncertain after a moment of astonishment “I don’t often have clients for breakfast. What can I get ya?”

“I’ve been told this is the best onigiri shop in town. I’ll let you decide”

You seem to consider your options for a moment, then decide to sit at the closest empty table. Osamu would usually provide more than a nod: he’d make conversation, ask questions. Forming bonds with whoever visits his shop and trusts his food is his favorite part of the day, as well as a great activity to engage in while his hands are busy putting the rice into molds.

“Close that mouth” is the only thing he utters under his breath, glancing at the server who set your table “yer catching flies”

“But it’s her!” Hiro squeaks as silently as humanly possible “I’m gonna ask for an autograph”

“You will do no such thing”

“We could hang it in the shop!”

“Go help in the kitchen, Minato called in sick today. I’ll handle this”

Hiro disappears behind closed doors but only after batting his freakishly long lashes to his boss, a heartbreaking disappointed look on his face.

Osamu takes a deep breath and squeezes the molds together, an action executed as gently as possible to keep the fluffy texture that makes his onigiri the best in town.

He knows you, of course he knows you. Not only your face was on any available surface for the entirety of the previous summer (posters, billboards, magazine covers to advertise your first ever concert in the Koshien stadium), he’s also pretty sure in high school Atsumu had perpetually ruined the walls of their shared room with some crappy adhesive squares used to hang your poster.

Osamu is not really a dedicated listener, he knows a couple of your most famous songs and that your success is damn near planetary. You have a house in Tokyo but spend most of the year in America, California if he recalls correctly, and you tour across Europe as well. Yet, it’s been easy to pick what to serve you. The gourmet options such as salmon roe or roast beef are off the table: they don’t make new clients feel special. What new clients need is a taste of authenticity, something that reminds them of home, and don’t you look just like the kind of person who could use some of that?

Osamu decides on pickled plum, tuna mayo and bonito flakes. One serving usually consists of three onigiri but he can’t resist adding an extra treat for you, a tenmusu onigiri. He’s recently perfected the recipe with an egg-free tempura batter that is still thick enough to absorb his special sauce.

He hopes it’s not creepy that he lingers by your table after he brings your meal: celebrity or not, you’re a new client. And Osamu can’t resist observing the wander taking over customers who are unfamiliar with his kitchen, as soon as they take the first bite. He hopes you are no exception.

“If this is an onigiri” you lock eyes with him and smile, glorious, radiant “what the hell have I been eating until now?”

“Probably not the best in town” he grins, proud, a slight blush already coating his cheeks. Damn it, he’s tempted to turn the baseball cap once more, let the brim shield his awkwardness. But that would be totally lame.

“Is it a family business?”

“No. It’s just… mine”

You hum, busy chewing on another bite. Then you swallow and ask another question, invite him to sit eventually, then apologize because he’s probably busy (he is) and has things to do (he does) but this is never going to happen again for Osamu, because he’s not Atsumu. And so he sits and makes conversation like a normal human being that definitely isn’t obsessively dwelling on how beautiful you are, how different your voice sounds when you’re not singing, how much he’d hate for a client to come in and pop that bubble. Which is exactly what happens and he doesn’t like it one bit how you interrupt your chuckle, lower your head, hunch your shoulders in an attempt to hide. He doesn’t like that he has to excuse himself, call Hiro back form the kitchen, make conversation with Suzuki-san, listen while he describes all his latest hospital visits in horrifying detail.

You look at him from time to time, the quiet shop owner suddenly turned chatty sparks your curiosity. He’s skilled with his hands and genuinely interested in what the person who must be an habitué has to say. He’s attractive, too. Especially as he tries to disguise the occasional glances directed your way or the disappointment that flashes in his eyes when you get up and start collecting your things.

“Can I get the check, please?” you approach the counter, pretend not to notice his hesitation. Osamu decides against indulging in the “it’s on the house” cliche, opts for treating you as any other client. With the exception of a small discount you won’t even notice.

“That was the best breakfast I had in a while” you collect the receipt and put in your pocket.

“You should come back, then. To have another” Osamu cringes internally as soon as the words leave his mouth and Suzuki-san’s chuckle makes him want to dig a hole to disappear into. But you smile, despite probably having heard the corny line a million other times, and tell him that you just might.

It would’ve been perfect: a beautiful ending to a glorious encounter. It could’ve been. If only you didn’t turn around so abruptly, a small shriek echoing across the shop as you came face to face with Mai, the sudden sound and panic causing her to jump and spill the fresh iced tea from the jug in her hand all over your painfully clean, crisp, starched, white button down.

You both freeze, your mouth open in a silent scream, an horrified look in Mai’s eyes that would’ve been comical on literally any other occasion. Osamu wishes he would’ve went with the “it’s on the house” cliche.

“Oh my god! Oh god! It’s you! I mean, I’m sorry!” Mai’s voice comes out an octave too high “my god, I’m so sorry!”

“Well, this is great” you frantically grab a handful of napkins from the counter and attempt to dab the mess on your shirt “I have a meeting in half an hour!”

“Please, take my uniform! I will pay for the dry cleaning!”

“Actually” Osamu chimes in as politely as possible, trying his best not to let his anxiety get the best of him “don’t take this the wrong way but, uh, I live upstairs. You can get cleaned up and…”

“You’re kidding, right?” your astonished look is almost glacial. It makes him falter just slightly.

“Or ya can leave with a giant orange stain on yer wet, probably uncomfortably cold shirt?”

“Miya-san!” Mai’s hiss and your shocked expression make him think that sarcasm probably wasn’t a good idea. Osamu sighs.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. These are the keys, you can go on your own, I promise the bathroom’s clean”

You eye him for a few seconds more, then decide against grabbing the keys from his hand.

“I’m gonna need a change of clothes”

Osamu blinks a couple times, dumbfounded. His clothes? You’re asking to wear… his clothes?

“Sure! Yeah, sure. Come on” now his voice sounds uncharacteristically squeaky and he clears his throat as you follow him up the stairs, Suzuki-san’s good grief still ringing in his ears.

Thank god he cleaned the entire apartment just the day before. As much as he likes to brag about being the tidy twin, deep down he knows he’s just as messy as Atsumu.

Osamu tries hard not to look at you, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed while he rummages in his drawers in search of something that could fit you. He shortly wonders if it’d be a good idea to offer a complementary bento box to make up for the disaster Mai caused.

“I’m genuinely sorry” he starts rambling because the silence is unbearable and some of Atsumu’s genes really do take over sometimes “the worst incident we ever had at the shop was my brother almost choking on his dinner. I had to perform the heimlich maneuver, it wasn’t pretty” god, where the hell are this clean, not embarrassing shirts?

“Guess this one will go down in history” your voice is less sharp now, which relieves him.

“Oh, no. I will never tell anyone about this, ever. Mai and Suzuki-san will have to sign an nda. A proper, legally binding one”

The laugh you offer sounds weirdly intimate in the small space of his bedroom, it makes the tips of his ears hot. Finally, he’s able to dig out a decent, basic shirt you accept by thanking him softly. When you lock yourself in the bathroom, Osamu rushes to the kitchen to tidy up the mess he’s left behind after that morning’s breakfast. No time to concentrate on how you’re actually, genuinely in his home, cleaning yourself in the same bathroom he showered in, without a shirt on.

No one’s ever going to believe him. Hell, he may not believe it himself by the end of the day.

“Hey” he jumps at your voice, sudden and closer than expected. You look good in his basic shirt, it suits you somehow. Did you shove your own in one of the bags you left by the door?

“Hey” Osamu says back and cringes for the millionth time “are ya hungry?”

You smile when he shuts his eyes for a second, right after the silly question leaves his mouth.

“Not hungry”

“Right. Of course. Thirsty? I have really good tea, from Shizuoka. And orange juice” he pauses for a second, then adds “or water”

Your smile grows, almost melts into a giggle. “Not thirsty either”

“Okay” he clears his throat “how about dessert? I made some mitarashi dango just yesterday”

“I have a meeting to attend”

“Oh. Sure, yeah, that makes sense” he wants to bash his head against the wall “I’ll walk you out. To downstairs” thank fuck ‘Tsumu isn’t there, he’d never let him live this down. Jesus.

You precede him to the door, gather your bags, then softly thank him for the shirt.

“Nice meeting you, Osamu” he nearly explodes when you say his name, no honorifics whatsoever. How do you even know? He hasn’t carried a name tag on his shirt for years.

“It was nice to meet you too” there’s no time to dwell on dumb, pointless questions “surreal, but nice”

He thinks if your smile could conjure waves, he’d gladly give up all the oxygen in his lungs and drown in them. Has someone ever looked as beautiful while smiling at him? He doesn’t think so. He can’t think. Not when you’re leaning closer, not when your arms are suddenly wrapped around his neck, not when you’re pressing your lips to his. Holy shit. You’re pressing your lips to his. And he’s forgotten how to breathe, let alone kiss. Osamu just freezes, like a marble statue, like a teenager who’s never touched a woman before. Right as he’s about to swallow the shock and fucking move, you’re already pulling away, eyes not leaving his despite the slight self-consciousness swarming in those irises.

And then you disappear, just like the dream he believed you were, all that’s left is an empty spot by the door and his heart slamming against a pathetically ill-equipped ribcage.

La Suite is one of the most luxurious hotels in the prefecture and Osamu feels out of place with the 30 onigiri order he’s carrying past a french restaurant and a traditional japanese one, all soft carpeting, dim lights and wide windows. So different from his.

He timidly explains that he’s there to deliver an order to a certain Bennet-san, who for some reason insisted he’d be the one bringing it to her hotel. They look at him funny but let him through and give the coordinates: top floor, superior double room. A woman meets him the second he steps out of the elevator and sternly asks him to follow her, a silly part of him wonders if he’s about to get murdered in one of the top 25 hotels in Japan. But then she knocks on a door right before swinging it open and he doesn’t even get to explain that he’s not supposed to get inside, she can take the bloody bag and he’ll be on his merry way, but once again Osamu fails to determine what the day holds in store for him.

Once more, it’s you. A less preppy version, one that seems so small in such a gigantic room, the sea breeze blowing from the terrace gracefully lifting up the hem of a tennis skirt you immediately fight to keep down as you promptly get up from the couch.

“Hi” he says, so dumbfounded he barely notices the door closing behind him.

“Miya-san” you bow, keep your eyes down, no sign of a smile he could by now deem familiar “I’m sorry for the trouble, I know the hotel is pretty far from the restaurant and you must be busy. This will only take a second”

Osamu’s brows furrow, confusion evident in the way he cocks his head. You don’t catch it, because your eyes are glued to the floor. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I don’t know what came over me, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me”

His eyes soften as part of the tension leaves his shoulders. Truth is, Osamu is glad you’re apologizing: despite how beautiful and dreamy you may be, life is not quite a movie and he doesn’t exactly appreciate being blindsided by a stranger. He doesn’t really understand what made you think kissing him would be a good idea (was his awkardness interpreted the wrong way? Did his stare linger on your smile a second too long?) but he’s certain you meant no harm. A shitty person certainly wouldn’t take time out of her day to leave an autograph on a napkin, especially right after half a jug of iced tea was spilled on her shirt just minutes before. To Hiro, with love.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Can ya look at me?”

You meet his gaze hesitantly, mouth a thin line of harsh disapproval directed at yourself. For a second, you remind him of someone and he almost breaks into a smile.

“Thank you for apologizing. We’re good”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah!” he chuckles “you didn’t have to place such a big order”

You blink twice, then start nervously fiddling with your fingers “ah, actually I didn’t do it to… well, those onigiris are just really good. I wanted to take some extra ones with me”

“You’re leaving?” he doesn’t mean to sound disappointed, especially not while you’re so intentionally keeping your distance.

“Kinda. My record label rented a house in the countryside, I’ll spend most of the summer locked in, trying to finish my new album. I couldn’t do it in America, I missed being home but didn’t want to endure Tokyo’s chaos so I ended up picking Hyogo. Sorry, you didn’t ask to know all that” you chuckle tensely “we leave tomorrow and I didn’t want to go without apologizing first. That’s all. You may go now”

Osamu hums. “I may go? As in I’m excused?” he laughs when your painfully stoic expression melts into sheer horror.

“No! Of course not, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You take yourself too seriously” he grins “I’m just messin’ with ya”

“That’s not very nice of you”

“Would you compare it to kissing a stranger out of the blue?”

“Oh god” you hide your overheated face in your hands “you said we’re good!”

“And we are” Osamu steps closer to gently place the bags still in his hands on the marble topped pedestal coffee table. It’s just fun to tease you, one of the many irritating habits he shares with his brother.

His brother. Osamu looks up, a risky desire taking shape in his head and threatening to spill over the tip of his tongue.

“I’m really sorry, Miya-san” you repeat and he doesn’t love that you’re now calling him that “uh, this is your shirt. Cleaned and ironed. Thank you for…”

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

You freeze, paper bag still in hand. “Uhm, nothing interesting”

“No packing?”

“My manager does that for me”

He chuckles. “Right. Chances you’d want to spend your last night in the city at an even less interesting birthday party?”

Osamu waits patiently while you weigh your options, recognizes the confusion in your hesitant stare but doesn’t quite understand why there’s a weary vibration to your voce when you accept, the slight disappointment that flashes across your features.

It’s only fair, you think as he parts from the room with a smile and the command to secure those onigiris in a fridge. If showing you off to his friends like some valuable conquest is the way he wants to even the score, you’re in no position to deny him. You’re the one at fault and you’ve been given a chance to make up for it by wearing the facade you wear best.

Then why does it feel so disheartening, this time?

When Shinsuke opens the door, he’s more surprised by your presence than the carefully wrapped gift in your hands. Not that he doubted Osamu: why send a message to the group chat telling everyone that a) he was bringing someone and b) they should’ve absolutely not behaved any differently than usual if not better (in bold), if he wasn’t actually going to show up with a plus one?

Still, a small part of him did wonder if Atsumu’s and Rintaro’s relentless teasing finally got the best of him. Shinsuke doesn’t think that his friend works too much or that he should start “looking around” before “his hair starts greying again only this once naturally”. He remembers Osamu rolling his eyes at his brother when he implied that at this rate he’s gonna have to tie the knot with the restaurant, only to then space out for most of the evening as everyone else found new topics to migrate toward.

In short, Shinsuke wondered if Osamu was going to come up with a last minute excuse to justify the empty spot next to him at the table. But it seems that spot is going to be taken after all, by you nonetheless.

“Nice to meet you, Kita-san” you smile after Osamu introduces you by your name and nothing else, not a wink, not even a subtle hint or a reasonable explanation “happy birthday”

Shinsuke accepts the gift with a polite thank you and he’s almost made sure you could preserve a nice, normal memory of stepping foot into his house for the first time, of course failing to consider the Hinata factor.

“Thank god, Osamu, I’m so hungry- holy shit! Is her your gift? I only brought a cap that says farm hair don’t care!” there’s a strange but seemingly friendly redhead looking at you with eyes so wide you fear they might roll out of their sockets.

“Shoyo, any chance you checked the chat today?” Osamu smiles at him widely but Kita recognizes the tension at the corners.

“What? Of course not, I was busy picking a cute gift” Hinata smiles too but his excitement is genuine “hello, nice to meet you! Please come in, you can help us set the table!”

You chuckle and meet Osamu’s horrified eyes for a second, his posture relaxes as your gentle reassurance puts him at ease. I’ll be in the other room, then. Leave it to Hinata to make a gigantic deal out of a special guest only to treat her as one of his buddies ten seconds later. You seemed comfortable, though, as one always feels whenever Shoyo happens to be around.

“Who is she?” Shinsuke doesn’t mean for his tone to be so conspiratorial but he keeps it low, just in case you might still hear them.

“A friend. Kinda. Ya wouldn’t believe me” Osamu takes his jacket off and hangs it by the door, then picks up the plethora of bags from the floor and makes his way into his friend’s kitchen.

“No, I mean… who is she? Why does Shoyo know her?” Shinsuke follows suit, intent on helping him distribute all the food he’s brought in the different plates he has prepared. Osamu shakes his initial surprise off with a chuckle.

“Only one of the most famous pop music artists in Japan”

Kita stills his movements for a second, then absorbs the new information with a simple nod. “Right. And you met her at the shop”

“How d’ya know?”

“Where else would you be meeting a pop music artist?”

“Don’t make it sound so obvious” Osamu pulls a face and Shinsuke’s eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Well, she’s here. With you. Is it like… a date?”

“No” the peremptory answer comes embarrassingly fast “it’s her last night in the city, she’s here because she didn’t have anything better planned”

“But you invited her”

“Yes”

“Because you like her”

“I don’t-” Osamu gestures vaguely with his hands “it’s not like that. ‘Tsumu used to have a poster of her face in our room, for fuck’s sake”

Kita hums. “So what you actually mean is it can’t be like that”

“I don’t see the difference”

“I do”

“Well-” a loud commotion Osamu has been trained for over two decades to instantly recognize as his brother’s voice, makes the words die in his throat. By the time him and Shinsuke return to the colorfully decorated living room (courtesy of an overly enthusiastic Hinata and one resigned Rintaro), Atsumu is already talking your ear off and seemingly invading your personal space multiple times as he follows you around the table you’re setting with Suna like a golden retriever on a sugar overload.

“Shoyo, you were supposed to keep her safe” Osamu glares at his brother and takes a mental note to scold Aran too, later. For snickering.

Hinata doesn’t get the chance to defend himself because of course Atsumu’s the only one who could outshine that intense excitement with his own.

“Samu! What the hell? If this is yer gift to Shin, what are ya plannin’ to get me exactly?”

“Can everyone stop assuming she’s here as a thing and not as a person?” it comes out harsher than intended and Osamu feels his face grow hot when all those present simply stare at him. When you stare at him.

Suna clears his throat.

“Cut him some slack, he came out of the bathroom and we could barely convince him she’s not a hallucination” you chuckle at that, which makes the ever stoic Rintaro look away with a faint blush blossoming on his pale cheeks.

“Wait” Atsumu looks at you, then at his brother and his brows become progressively furrowed “she’s here with you? As in, you invited her? And she said yes?”

Osamu wonders why he thought a simple admonishment in the group chat would be enough. He has half an idea of shoving an onigiri right into his brother’s loud mouth and not perform any maneuver whatsoever when the rice obstructs his airways.

“Actually, I wanted to come” you chime in so gently it takes a few moments for him to register the words “I’m leaving tomorrow and when Miya-san mentioned it was one of his friends’ birthday, I shamelessly asked if I could tag along. Hope I’m not a bother”

Kita is looking at you the same way Osamu is, puzzled. Hinata almost chokes on his coke and starts coughing profusely, so much that Aran has to lend him a napkin.

“A bother? No, of course not!” his nose might be on fire but by god, he physically cannot let you believe such nonsense for a second too long.

Atsumu’s mouth hangs wide open, brows still knit that make his expression overall hilarious “you make her call you Miya-san? Yikes, bro” he turns to you and makes a scene of slamming a hand on his chest “please, feel free to call me ‘Tsumu. I think we’re intimate enough by now”

“Given that we took five selfies and you made me sign my name on your abs, I also think we’re intimate enough” your grin seems genuine, which only startles Osamu more.

“Ya made her do what?” oh, there are probably not enough words in the japanese vocabulary for the way he’ll have to apologize at the end of the night.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind” you shrug “but if I could ask everyone a small favor…”

“Sure, anything!” Atsumu’s interruption only makes your smile grow wider “I’d really like to celebrate Kita-san’s birthday like you’d normally do. Please don’t make a big deal out of me, it’s his night after all”

“She’s asking not to be treated like a circus act” Aran whispers to Hinata, who blinks his big brown eyes in quiet understanding.

“Done!” Atsumu’s fist hits his chest right where the heart is as he solemnly declares “you’re one of the boys now, consider yourself a pal”

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu” he tries to keep his composure but nearly implodes as you direct your attention to Shoyo “no, Hinata-san, this doesn’t mean we won’t be taking that picture I promised. Don’t worry” your wink is the prettiest, most wonderful thing he’s ever witnessed and thank fuck he’s done drinking that coke because his airways suddenly feel clogged.

Kita thinks this is already the most entertaining birthday he’s ever celebrated.

And celebrate his birthday you all do. Normally, as per your request. You sit between Rintaro and Osamu at dinner and masterfully divert the attention from yourself whenever the questions start piling up. The uno reverse technique works well: your curiosity feels flattering and everyone is happy to satisfy it. The questions you direct are extremely specific, your laugh echoes alongside everyone else’s and Osamu can’t help but think that, in some odd way, you fit in seamlessly.

Keeping his eyes off of you isn’t but a strenuous fight with himself, it’d be lovely if looking would be the only activity he’d be allowed to engage in. It’s not hard to guess why hordes of fans and admirers are so enamoured: you’re such a natural. Polite, poised, funny, charismatic. Making you laugh feels like a privilege, having your brows raise in interest makes the story one’s recounting instantly fascinating. And yet you’re not doing any of that on purpose, he can tell. The one thing you’re being intentionally careful about is avoiding his gaze and making sure your arm doesn’t accidentally brush against his.

Osamu wants to ask himself why but also refuses to indulge in childish fantasies. What, he thought you liked him? Part of him believed you’d accepted to come to some stranger’s birthday party purely to spend an evening with him. Bullshit. Everyone in the world knows who you are and he simply owns an onigiri shop in Hyogo, one you happened to visit by sheer chance. He’s the guy you are so embarrassed to be seen with, you had to come up with a lie to justify your presence at the very same table that seems to adore you.

But when he jokingly throws a grain of rice at Aran, you hide your chuckle behind your hand. If he speaks, you always turn to look. Osamu doesn’t remember a social gathering where he tried to come up with just as many things to say, desperately conjuring genes that always weigh heavier in Atsumu. Unfortunately, the one person he could always count on, his dear friend and trusty supplier, decides his birthday night is the perfect occasion to stab him in the back.

“I’m sorry, I just need to ask” Kita refills your glass with fresh wine from across the table before retracting to his seat once more “your encounter with Osamu, how did it happen exactly?”

“Yeah, was his onigiri so good you wanted to-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Shoyo” Aran clears his throat as Suna, next to you, has a hard time swallowing his stir fry noodles.

“She heard my shop was the best in town, which it is, came to try it. That’s the story” Osamu wishes he could disappear into his kitchen as he often does when things at the restaurant get uncomfortable.

“I don’t buy it” Shinsuke shrugs “is that really the whole story?”

Kita’s knowing stare really hasn’t changed since high school and it seems you’re affected by it just as much as every other human. His eyes bore right into yours, trained to detect hesitation or even the hint of a lie, giving you no escape. Goddamn it, he’s still the team captain, there’s no running from him.

“Well” you gently swirl the glass in your hand, suddenly very much focused on the crimson liquid swooshing inside “I also kissed him”

This time someone does actually choke and, of course, it’s Atsumu. Right as Rintaro utters an ever quiet holy shit, he explodes in a coughing fit and Aran promptly strikes between his shoulder blades with the heel of his hand, perhaps with more force than needed. Thankfully, Atsumu manages to swallow his bite and, despite the tears threatening to run down his cheeks in all their shimmering glory, still conjures the energy needed to point an intimidating finger at his brother “ya bastard!”

“That’s a joke, right?” Hinata’s eyes have once again grown three sizes.

Kita doesn’t ask, the answer is written all over Osamu’s crimson red face. He was right, no one would’ve believed him.

“No, I really did” you take a sip from your glass and now everyone is looking at you like you’re some kind of alien. Except for Atsumu, who’s still glaring daggers at his brother.

“So this is… a date for you two?” Suna’s just as shocked as everyone else but seems to be the only person currently able to string words together.

“Oh, no” you brush the question off with a gracious wave of the hand “I just did it to thank him”

This time the silence stretches for a moment too long. Atsumu seems on the verge of passing out.

“You kissed him to thank him?” Kita cocks his head.

“Yeah. I mean, he was very kind. Have you never kissed someone to thank them?”

“Uh… no. I don’t think so”

“Really?”

“Do you…” Aran hopes to the gods that the words don’t come out the wrong way “do that often?”

“Aran” as much as Osamu wishes the earth could swallow him whole, he doesn’t want you to think his friends may be implying something they’re really not.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“It’s okay” you let our a nervous chuckle and because Osamu is sitting so close, he hears the shaky breath too “I know it was wrong. I tend to forget that’s not what normal people are used to. I apologized and now we’re good, right, Miya-san?” your eyes meet his and he feels his heart drop right into his stomach.

“Why are you used to that?” he asks instead of replying to your question and you just. Freeze.

“Yeah…” Hinata quietly chimes in “that doesn’t sound like something anyone should be used to”

For the first time, you don’t know how to respond. Osamu senses your panic, can read it in your eyes, but is too baffled to think of something smart or chivalrous to say.

“Holy shit, ya know what that means?” Atsumu slams both his hands on the table and both you and everyone else jump “it means she thinks I’m hot! In another life, I’d have a chance! Sorry, Shin, I know it’s yer birthday but I think this is the best night of my life!”

A quiet, astonished moment follows, then the table erupts in genuine laughter. You’re giggling so much you have to hold your stomach, Kita is shaking his head in resignation, Suna rolls his eyes with affection. Osamu settles for a smile as he relaxes against his chair once more. His brother may be loud and annoyingly inopportune, but his quiet support never once faltered throughout the years. One doesn’t need to be an old acquaintance to be taken under Miya Atsumu’s wing: if he senses as much as the hint of unease, his charismatic idiocy is summoned right away at the service of whoever may need it. Yet his loyalty remains unshakeable: Osamu knows that, in his stupid head, you’re already forbidden territory.

His mind is dizzy with confusion he doesn’t know how to properly address. As Kita blows out the candles on the cake he’s made, Osamu feels a wave of affection inundate his heart. He remembers that are nights like this that are worth being present, even if he has to get up at dawn or his sink is full of dirty dishes and he’s exhausted. Life only ever feels right when he’s with his friends or his family. It’s a routine he’s trained hard to get used to: work, work, work, carve out small moments to spend with those who come and go. It’s important for him to be there, when they come.

Osamu almost misses it, too focused on cleaning an extra plate or two in the kitchen, to make sure the birthday boy can get to relax once they leave. And then you call for him, a small crack in that poised facade of yours when his name almost slips out. You rush into the kitchen and urge him to hurry up, they’re already singing happy birthday to Kita-san. Come on, you’re missing it!

You probably wanted to go for his sleeve and found his hand instead, dragged him out of the room so quickly Osamu barely had the time to put the towel down. For some reason, once in the living room you don’t let go right away and neither does he. You only do so to clap with everyone else and even then it’s not entirely possible to establish who lets go first. Regardless, Osamu gives your hand a light squeeze and hopes you notice, despite there being no signs to indicate that.

You’re the first two people to excuse themselves: he refuses to let you go back to your hotel on your own, doesn’t give two shits that you have a driver or could well afford a cab because it’s a beautiful evening and Osamu is itching to have as little as ten minutes alone with you. He watches as you formally offer a hand to Suna and he grins as he shakes it, gently taking it in between his in a respectful attempt at suggesting that there’s no need to be so ceremonious.

You exchange quick hugs with everyone else, take the picture promised to Hinata, chuckle lightly when Atsumu timidly asks for a kiss on the cheek just because “it’s the american way of saying goodbye!” and of course you accomodate the request. Osamu is almost willing to bet you genuinely had fun but he also can’t seem to shake off the odd feeling suggesting you’ve somehow taken it upon yourself to just… appease everyone for the entire evening. Like some kind of duty. He doesn’t want you to think back to this evening like a task that had to be carried out.

“Oh my god, I cannot fucking believe it!” Atsumu’s shriek echoes loud and clear in the empty street as soon as Kita shuts the door and you meet Osamu’s exasperated glare.

“I’m genuinely not sure what I should start apologizing for” he runs a hand through his brown hair and his stress makes you smile as you fall into a comfortable walking pace.

“I should start by thanking you for inviting me. Can’t remember the last time I had such a normal night”

“My friends are many things but I don’t know if they really fall into the normal category”

You laugh at that. “I think they’re really nice. It was fun. I didn’t know there were two of you”

Osamu grimaces, lightly shaking his head “good call, he’s the thing I should start apologizing for”

“I liked Atsumu” of course you did, don’t they all? “you’re lucky to have such good friends and a brother. Is it true what they say about weird connections us twinless mortals wouldn’t get?”

He sighs. As much as Osamu hates stereotypes and all the disadvantages that come with not being able to be his own person, the curse of always being considered nothing but part of a set, he knows the bond with Atsumu is just as rare and irreplaceable as people make it out to be.

“Well, I can pretty much always read his mind. But it’s not a twin thing, s’just an Atsumu thing” he shrugs “most transparent, honest person on earth”

“You’re both very kind” your observation strikes him. It hits the nail on the head: he does his best but it’s unusual for someone to notice ‘Tsumu’s selflessness right away.

“Could say the same about ya” he’s eager to direct the topic to the thing he’s really interested in, the one person who refused every bit of attention directed her way throughout the night “that tea collection must’ve costed a fortune. Shinsuke loves tea, yer manager picked well”

You hum, gaze focused on your feet. “Actually, I picked it”

Another thing Osamu has in common with his brother, the ability to royally fuck up in such a short amount of time.

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, happens all the time”

“What happens?”

“People assuming things” you’re not mad, there’s just a sad vibration to your voice. If he could punch himself in the face, he would.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Osamu hates the smile you toss at him. He hates it so much he stops in the middle of the sidewalk and watches you turn around, confusion flashing in your disenchanted eyes.

“There’s a pretty cool park ‘round the corner. How about a detour? If you’re not too tired”

You hum in agreement, ask him to lead the way. Careful, Osamu, you’d like to say. This same polite regard is what got me in trouble the first time.

The park, which is more of a garden really, is a slice of eden in the jungle that any city inevitably ends up feeling like. Lowlands, an abundance of irregular but colorful flowerbeds that seem to glow in the dark, the warm air of the evening saturated with the sweet scent of lime trees, a gravel path you both follow all the way to a small, wooden playground. It’s only natural to gravitate toward the swings, relish in the comfort of the stillness the evening offers. It always feels like the earth rotates slower, pace decelerating to give you more time to enjoy the things it’s hard to appreciate during your hectic days.

Osamu approaches the swing like an old friend, takes hold of the chains with both hands. He lightly pushes off the ground with his feet while pulling back, giving you a perfect view of his perfect profile.

“I don’t want to assume” he says quietly “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yeah” you rest your head on the chain you’re holding, still looking at him who won’t look at you.

“Why did you tell ‘Tsumu you asked me to come tonight?” the actual question dies in his throat. Were you that embarrassed of being there with me?

“You seemed pretty self-conscious. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable” and I guess that way, you got to seem cooler.

Osamu almost chokes on his own spit from how surprised he is by your answer. What the fuck.

“I wasn’t-” not for the reason you seem to believe “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable!”

You smile, patiently waiting for the moment where he’ll finally turn to meet your gaze instead of persistently staring at his feet. “I don’t think I ever felt that comfortable in a room filled with men”

“That shouldn’t be an exceptional occurrence”

“Right. But it is”

He spends a few moments trying to come up with the right words, a handful of seconds spent with part of his brain wishing he could have a talk with all the men who made you feel unsafe. How many? Where, why? Are they the reason why Osamu wants to get so desperately close and yet keep a respectful distance, not to scare you off, not to be another name added to the list of creeps you surely hate?

“Why did you kiss me?” those are far from being the right, considerate words he was trying to summon, but they bubble up from his throat before he can stop them.

You hum, pensive “I don’t know. You’re pretty, you’re gentle, I thought t’was what you expected to happen. It’s what men usually expect in return”

“In return for what?” he fights the urge to keep his eyes down, confident that the darkness will conceal the redness of his cheeks. You think he’s pretty and the first thing his dumb brain is able to link the revelation to, is Atsumu. Shit, he was right, this means you do find him attractive as well.

“Anything, really” your chuckle is devoid of actual humor “I know this night was supposed to make up for it but I didn’t expect to have so much fun. Regardless, I hope we’re even now”

Osamu furrows his brows.

“Ya think that’s why I invited ya?”

“Why else?”

He almost laughs, incredulous. You hide that mistrust really well, Osamu has to give it you. It feels unfair that life has given someone who seemingly has everything, so many reasons to think you can only be seen as an empty shell, some trophy with the sole purpose of being flaunted.

“You said you were leaving. I didn’t like the idea of not seeing you again”

“Really?” your lips curl into a small smile “the weird girl who jumped you on your first meeting?”

“You’re weird” he concedes “and selfless. Intelligent. Maybe jokes are not your forte but, hey, ya get to look like that” your laugh compliments his really well and Osamu can’t help but think he’d like to sit in a park, in the middle of the night, and talk and laugh and be with you just once more.

You briefly wonder if the man sitting so close to you is aware of just how devastatingly charming he is. Part of you wishes he’d want to take you out on a proper date, let you meet his friends on different occasions, include a weird stranger in such a well balanced life. Part of you also knows you’d never want to ruin that for him. Not for someone like Osamu. People who are unfortunate enough to stumble across you are almost always harassed away, it’s a life you’re used to and can’t bring yourself to run from. It’s who you are and, most importantly, all you have. It’d be too dangerous for your heart to desire anything different.

But he’s looking at you as if you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, land emerged from the sea millions of years ago for his eyes only to experience such a sight. No one’s ever looked at you with such wonder.

“I don’t want to assume” he holds your gaze locked to his, swing dangling lightly as he leans closer “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yes” you utter a little too breathlessly.

“Can I kiss ya?”

You hum in affirmation and close your eyes, heart beating a little faster than what you’re used to as you sense his proximity. He smells nice, radiates warmth and his soft hair tickles a little when his lips gently press to your cheek.

Osamu smiles when he catches a glimpse of disappointment flashing over your features, the first of many clues he wants to learn how to interpret correctly. The cracks in a facade he’d make his personal mission to tear down.

“I know you have to go away tomorrow” he gently moves a strand of hair away from your forehead “but I wondered, if you didn’t, whether you might let me see ya a little. Or a lot, maybe”

You lean into his touch, calloused fingertips still barely grazing your skin.

“A lot sounds good”

#osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x you #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu x reder #romcomcollab

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boldlyvoid · 2 years ago

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Falling For You.

[REQUEST] spencer reid x BAU!reader but they're in a secret relationship, and basically she gets him to watch all these romcoms, so when he makes a reference to something like Notting Hill or You've Got Mail and then the whole secret is blown.

warnings: mentions of lila archer, spoilers for 90s/2000s rom-coms, co-workers to lovers, love confessions, implied smut, secret relationships.

word count: 2.4k

It was no secret that the newest team member had a thing for romantic comedies. From the little jokes she made with Penelope to the quote from Pretty Woman on her travel mug, she was a walking Rom-Com reference.

Hotch understood some of the references, JJ would talk her ear off about her favourites, and even Emily and Derek would jokingly re-enact that scene from When Harry Met Sally every time they had a team lunch. It was only Spencer who didn’t get the jokes, and after having to explain them all to him 1 too many times, she finally invited him over to watch some.

The first one they watched together was Can’t Buy Me Love. Patrick Dempsey, a loveable nerd has been saving up all summer to buy the telescope of his dreams when the girl next door accidentally ruins her mom's favourite dress and needs to buy a replacement… he ends up buying it for her on the condition that she pretends to date him so his Senior Year can be his best year yet. Spencer likes the movie overall, he wishes someone in his high school took enough pity on him to make him popular. But his favourite scene is when they go to the abandoned airplane graveyard and watch the stars in his homemade telescope.

“I can make one of those,” Spencer whispers to her.

“Really?”

He nods, “It would be pretty easy… maybe we could go star gazing someday too?” He asks, biting the bullet and making this movie date the first of many dates they’d go on.

—

The next movie they watch is Never Been Kissed. Drew Barrymore is a nerdy reporter who goes undercover at a high school and gets to relive her teen years while falling in love for the first time. Spencer likes this one because he can relate, he never had his first kiss until well into his 20s… and she was an actress, too. When he explains that to Y/N she can’t believe it, but he has the magazine photos of them saying goodbye after the case to prove it.

“Have you kissed many people since then?” She asks, wishing he’d move a little closer to her and steal one.

He nods, “a few.”

“anyone good?”

He shakes his head, “no, I’m saving the best kiss for last.”

She looks puzzled? “What?”

“My best kiss will be from the girl I end up marrying,” he gives her a smile and moves his hand over to hold hers.

“Oh,” she bites back a smile and looks down at their interlocked fingers. “Have you at least met her yet?”

“I think so…”

“Well, then shouldn’t you kiss her to find out if she’s the right one?” She teases, leaning into his space even more.

“I suppose you’re right,” he teases, he cups her face with his free hand and rubs his thumb over her cheek, “are you sure you’re okay with this?”

She nods and leans in all the way this time. Effectively pressing their lips together. And even for a first kiss, it sure does feel different. It feels like her last first kiss ever.

—

Keeping it a secret at work is hard when all they want to do is stare at each other with googly-eyes, they’ve fallen head over heels for each other and not told a single soul. No one knows about their movie dates or their real dates either. No one knows they’ve spent a whole night kissing or that they really, really, don’t mind sharing the hotel room with the two queen beds. And they definitely don’t know that they only slept in the one. Together. The whole week they were away.

After the case ends, they head back to her apartment for their mandated 48 hours off with the pan to watch as many movies as they can.

The third movie they watch is You’ve Got Mail.

“Rival bookstore owners hate each other in real life, yet on the internet manage to fall madly in love with one another. Based on an older movie called The Shop Around The Corner, it’s a beloved story brought to life once again by the one and only Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.”

She explains every movie like this before they put it on. He’s honestly only watching them because he loves listening to her talk about them.

“You see, they both have partners in real life but they email each other every day, as friends… but you know what it's like in movies like these,” she smirks. “Best friends who have a lot in common find it easy to fall in love.”

“That they do,” he agrees.

He raises his arm over the back of the couch and she sits back, leaning into his side just as his hand lands on her shoulder. They snuggle up close, she hits play and he watches with glee, not knowing this was going to become his favourite movie by the time it’s over.

His favourite line is when two cars honk at each other and their drivers get out to argue, followed by Meg Ryan saying “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” Which is something Tom Hanks says to her in an email earlier that morning.

He loves the way the old man recalls a woman of his past and called her “enchanting” because what a wonderful thing to say about a woman.

He giggles when Tom Hanks tosses aside Pride and Prejudice cause he just doesn’t get it the way Meg's character does. But ultimately, he picks it back up because he wants to get to know her through her reading history.

“I sympathize with Frank,” Spencer whispers as he brings out a typewriter when they have a perfectly good computer at her house.

“I know,” she laughs. “I love the tablets at work, I can’t believe you still have Penny paint the files out for you.”

You are a lone reed standing tall, waving boldly in the curet sands of commerce. Frank compliments Kathleen, or at least he tries to.

Spencer giggles again. “I remember what it was like being a lone Reid,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She gets all flustered, so madly in love with him that she wants to scream it from the rooftops but it feels way too soon. They’re only 3 movies into their relationship. Maybe at 10, she’ll tell him. Till then, she looks over at him and steals a real kiss.

Kathleen is so passionate about her books in the same way that Y/N loves her movies. Spencer sees so many similarities between them that it’s really no wonder that Tom Hanks’ character falls in love with her. Passionate, kind, beautiful women will always have a place in Spencer's heart.

Their 4th movie is another Meg Ryan classic; When Harry Met Sally, and now Spencer understands why Derek pretends to have an orgasm when he eats a good salad…

Their 5th movie is Notting Hill and Y/N can tell he doesn’t like it very much because unlike William Tucker, the actress who kissed Spencer never talked to him again after that.

Their 6th movie, however, is Pretty Woman. And while they shared a bed all through the last case, they’ve never really slept together. So watching a movie all about sex and falling in love really didn’t help the frustration they were both feelings. By the time the movie ended, it was almost midnight and they should’ve been getting ready for bed.

She gets up and heads to her room, expecting him to follow but he just stands in her doorway, watching with a bit of anxiety in his gut.

“So…” Spencer asks. “What happens after he climbs up and rescues her?”

She stills, her heart fills with love and she quickly makes his way to him. She cups his face in her hands, staring up at him. “She rescues him right back.”

“Indeed you have,” he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “You know what all these movies have in common?”

“What?” She has no idea where he’s going with this.

“They all fell in love pretty quickly, I mean just look at Vivian and Edward, it took them less than a week,” he explains. “So I don’t feel too crazy when I say… I love you, Y/N. I love you so very much.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispers between kisses.

They kiss and kiss and he walks with her, leading her toward the bed where they fall in and make love for the first time. It's hot and close and emotional. It's slow and steady and perfect. It’s everything both of them have dreamed of when they finally met the one.

—

On their second day off they watch How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, 13 Going On 30, 50 First Dates, A Walk to Remember, 10 Things I Hate About You, and The Holiday. They would’ve gotten to more if they weren’t so wrapped up in one another. By the time they go back to work, they’ve gotten through half of her list of favourite movies.

He’s not sure if it’s luck or coincidence or what… but their next case happens to be in New York.

When they land, they get into their Bureau-issued SUVs and weave in and out of traffic on their way to the scene. They’re honked at multiple times and Spencer just smirks to himself. It’s not until they get out and they’re honked at once again, with some guy yelling at them to get out of his way, that Spencer turns to her and says. “Don’t you love New York in the fall?”

She giggles and shoves him, “Shut up.”

“It’s not the fall?” JJ remarks, not knowing why he’d say such a thing or why she’d react like that.

“Hey, isn’t that…” Emily thinks it over for a second. “That’s a line from you’ve got mail!”

“How would Spencer know that movie?” JJ laughs it off.

Spencer turns to beat red with embarrassment. “I’ve seen it…”

“You’ve seen you’ve got mail?” Derek even rides him for this slip-up. “And when do you have time to watch rom-coms?”

“I’ve seen the original,” he lies. “It’s based on The Shop Around The Corner. My mom liked it before she got sick.”

“Okay,” they drop it there.

Thankfully.

And by the time the case ends, 3 days have passed, the unsub has been booked into Jail at 9am and they’re free to go home. If they want to. Derek suggests they all go out for breakfast, and Hotch says he rather go home and sleep. JJ wants to go shopping and Emily’s right there with her.

Spencer on the other hand, he opens his phone and sends Y/N a message.

“There’s a place in Riverside Park at 91st street where the path curves and there’s a garden. I’ll be waiting there for you.”

She digs her phone out of her pocket seconds later and smiles, a small sigh leaves her as her shoulders slump. She’s so in love with him it's unreal.

“What about you, Y/N?” Emily asks her. “Do you want to come with us?”

“No… no, I have a friend in town I want to meet up with.”

“Looks like it’s just me and you for breakfast, pretty boy,” Derek teased, wrapping his arm around Spencer.

He shakes his head, “Actually, I was thinking about going on a little sightseeing adventure, you know I only come to new york for work.”

“Fine then,” Derek drops it and he, Emily and JJ watch as Spencer and Y/N head off, out of the precinct and in different directions. “I bet you ten bucks they’re meeting up.”

“Hold on,” JJ says as she calls up Penelope. “Hey, yeah, can you tell me where Spencer and Y/N’s GPS pings in 20 minutes?”

“I can… why?” Penny asks nervously.

“No reason. Just a hunch.”

When Penelope eventually calls her back all she has to say is Riverside Park at 91st Street and they know.

—

Y/N gets there first, she’s never seen this place in person before. The flowers are even more vibrant than in the movie. There are bees dancing around every other flower, couples walking around hand in hand, people on dog walks and moms with their strollers. It’s just an average early morning in New York.

And then she sees him. He comes rounding the corner, he’s carrying a bouquet of flowers wrapped in newspaper… at least she thinks they’re flowers.

What they don’t notice is their friends on the other side of the garden, watching them get closer and closer until they’re chest to chest. He wraps his free hand around her waist, she cups his face in her own hands, and she stares up at him like he hung the stars just for her.

“I wanted it to be you,” Spencer whispers what was originally Meg Ryan's line. “I wanted it to be you so badly.”

“You sure did save the best for last,” she knows exactly what he means.

Just as they lean in to kiss, as his lips meet hers, they hear it. Someone is playing “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” just for them. They smile into the kiss, shocked that their life is playing out like a perfectly written movie and then they see them.

It’s their own friends who played it. They’re clapping in the distance, “Woo!!” Emily cheers.

“We knew this would happen!” Derek throws in for good measure.

They can’t help but laugh, Spencer pulls her in for another kiss, a longer, more hearty kiss. He loves her and he wants everyone to know.

When she pulls back, she looks as though she could cry, so he extends the bouquet to her. It’s a bunch of yellow, newly sharpened number 2 pencils tied up with string.

“Don’t you love New York in the fall?”

“Not as much as I love you,” she says as she takes them, gladly. “Not even close.”

General Taglist

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86

#Spencer reid #Spencer reid smut #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid self insert #Spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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cultivating-wildflowers · 9 months ago

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my tulips are blooming!

woke up to soft thunder and a light rain. the world is drenched and the sky is gray and all of the colors are more vivid by contrast and there are mourning doves in the trees.

#I’ve been waiting for them!!#for some reason I only have two tho I’m sure I planted more then that #also showing color: the one anemone that keeps turning up year after year #and the forget-me-nots #I have a feeling the forget-me-nots have crowded out everyone else #meanwhile the irises and roses look like they’re gonna make a good showing this summer #and I still can’t get rid of the dayliles but at least they’re colorful

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domreader-headcannon-scenarios · 28 days ago

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Kinktober day 10 knotting, Raphael + Beelzebub

Cw: cum eating, knots, threesome

Bell offered Raphael another drink, while you sneered knowing what’s in the concoction, Raphael didn’t know or really seem to care. Maybe it’s because Beelzebub willfully drank the same thing.

You ignored the drink Bell tried to hand you as you undressed Raphael, he’d only been without his cage for a few days and Beelzebub wanted to try something ‘new’ with the angel.

Beelzebub had gotten impatient while you undressed Raphael and just ripped the drunk angels clothes off. Raphael didn’t even seem to care. The angel was laughing and giggling as if you’d ticked him, it took Beel grabbing the angels manhood and begin stroking it, when aroused united the base of his cock swell a bit.

You shake your head and look to Beel. “You want him to experience knotting don’t you?” The demon nodded as Raphael groaned and rolled his hips to get more friction. You take over and let one hand stroke him while the other begins rubbing the knot. “I should probably get it in me right now, he’s a quick shot after all.”

You tease making Bell laugh, you use his pre to lube. You watch Raphael pant and squirm as Bell helps you undress, the angels cock throbs at the sight of your bare body, he purrs, eye dilating at the sight of your core, Beel helps you ease the angel’s cocks into your body.

Raphael loudly moans, the glass he was drinking from placed to the side. You gently begin bouncing on his cock. “Fuck! Yess!” Raphael whines, bucking into you greedily. “So warm…” He pants out, nuzzling you as he presses down on your hips.

Beel took the angels man hold by surprise by pinning his hands to the couch, earring a huff in annoys as Beel teases. “Hands off the merch, you can look all you want but no touching.”

You huff out a laugh, feeling his cock throb inside of you, you move a little faster. You feel the angel tremble, out of pleasure or frustration you couldn’t tell. He looked pissed with Bell but submitted, not struggling as the demon loosely holds him down.

With a whine, the angel tries bucking into you, his wings come into view, flapping as he nears his peak. While you ignored it, right as you feel him climax, you slam your hips down, letting his knot slip into you right as it starts swelling.

To your surprise as Raphael cries out in bliss, you hear glass smash, Bell is the first to reply. “Watch your wings Angel, you broke the glass, don’t worry, I’ll give you something else to drink.”

Beel said, grinning he unzipped his pants catching the angel off guard, he released the angel only for Raphael to try to wiggle free, whimpering at the tugging on his cock. Beel chuckled a bit at the angels confusion, it was amusing to you too, maybe angels weren’t familiar with how nots worked.

Raphael hissed. “It’s stuck!” his attention drawn ty the space where you two are connected, not paying attention to Beel undressing. “Can you…let go…if my..?”

You laugh and Beel suddenly mounts Raphael, sitting in his chest, he presses his cock against the angels lips, earning a growl. “Ral, you’re the one not letting go of them.” Bell says, insistently pressing his cock against the angels lips even as he speaks.

“I’m not holding them! I’m st-“ He groans out but is interrupted when Bell uses the opportunity to shove his cock into the angels mouth. You lightly shove him.

“Rude, you could have asked him to suck on you, I’m sure he’d be willing if he knew it was your cum he was drinking.” You tease, you know the two of them are fine with odd foods and beverages, true Raphael liked the drink.

But judging by the sheer he likes it less from the source.

#nsft #kinktober #kinktober 24 #WHB #what in hell is bad #raphael x mc #sub raphael #raphael x reader #beelzebub x reader #Beelzebub x mc #dom reader #bottom reader #cw knotting #Raphael x reader x Beelzebub #Beelzebub x reader x Raphael #polyamarous

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awkward-walking-potato · 5 months ago

Note

saw you wanted some wade requests so.... how about wade x a scatterbrained (probably has adhd) reader who always calls themselves stupid whenever they forget what they are doing \ walk into a room and forget what they were supposed to do?

Forget-Me-Nots

You stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring blankly at the open refrigerator. The cool air wafted over your face as you tried to remember why you had walked in here in the first place. You were sure it was important—maybe something for dinner? Or a snack? You couldn’t recall, and the longer you stood there, the more frustrated you became.

With a sigh, you closed the fridge door and leaned against the counter, muttering to yourself. “Ugh, I’m so stupid. Why can’t I remember anything?”

“Did someone say ‘stupid’? I’m pretty sure that’s a code word for needing more Deadpool in your life,” came a voice from the doorway. Wade strolled into the kitchen, a lopsided grin on his face as he made his way over to you. “What’s going on, babe?”

You glanced up at him, feeling a bit sheepish. “I came in here for something, but I completely forgot what it was. I feel so dumb. This happens all the time.”

Wade’s grin softened into something more tender as he reached out to ruffle your hair playfully. “First of all, you’re not dumb. Not even close. You’re just running on a different frequency than most people—one that happens to be way more interesting, might I add.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, even though the frustration still lingered. “I don’t know, Wade. It just feels like my brain’s always all over the place. Like I can’t focus on one thing for too long, and I keep forgetting stuff.”

Wade’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to you. “Well, that’s where I come in, babe. Ta-da!”

You looked down to see a small, brightly colored sticky note in your hand. On it, in Wade’s messy handwriting, were the words: You came in here for the snacks, didn’t you?

You blinked in surprise, and then a laugh bubbled up from your chest. “Wait, how did you—?”

“Because I know you, that’s how,” Wade said, looking way too pleased with himself. “And also because I’m a genius. But mostly the first thing. I figured you might get sidetracked, so I wrote you a little reminder earlier. Just in case.”

Your heart melted at the thoughtfulness behind the gesture, and you looked up at him with a mixture of affection and gratitude. “Wade, that’s so sweet of you. And, yeah, I was definitely thinking about snacks.”

Wade’s grin widened. “Called it! Now, let’s raid the pantry and find something good. I think we’ve got some chocolate stashed away somewhere.”

As the two of you searched through the cabinets, you couldn’t help but feel a warm glow of appreciation for Wade’s efforts. He didn’t just see your scatterbrained moments as a quirk to be tolerated—he saw them as an opportunity to show how much he cared about you. It was one of the many reasons you loved him so much.

Later that evening, as you were getting ready for bed, you found another sticky note taped to your bathroom mirror. This one read: Brush your teeth, beautiful. And don’t forget to floss—I know you hate it, but your smile’s worth it.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you did exactly what the note suggested. Wade had a knack for knowing exactly what you needed, even before you realized it yourself.

Climbing into bed, you found yet another note tucked under your pillow: You’re not stupid. You’re amazing, and I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you. Now, get some sleep—dream of me, will ya?

You clutched the note to your chest, feeling your eyes well up with tears, though they were the happy kind. Wade always knew how to lift your spirits, to remind you of your worth, even when you were feeling down on yourself.

When Wade finally joined you in bed, you turned to him and snuggled close, wrapping your arms around him as you whispered, “Thank you, Wade. For everything.”

He kissed the top of your head, his arms encircling you protectively. “Anything for you, babe. You’re my whole world, scattered brain and all. And don’t worry—I’ve got plenty more notes where those came from.”

You smiled against his chest, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you drifted off to sleep. Wade might have been unpredictable and wild, but when it came to you, he was steady, thoughtful, and endlessly loving.

The next morning, you woke up to find a sticky note on your nightstand: Good morning, sunshine! Remember to take your meds and have breakfast. I made pancakes—don’t let them get cold!

You grinned, feeling a surge of affection for your wonderfully chaotic boyfriend. With Wade by your side, you knew you could face anything—even the most scatterbrained of days.

#marvel imagine #x men imagine #deadpool imagine #deadpool x reader #deadpool oneshot #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson imagine #wade wilson

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peterm4rker · 25 days ago

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from the rooftops || m.l

seventeen. surprise picnin (written)

🕸🕷✮⋆˙ wc. 1.5k w. curse words! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

mark felt like his heart was about to fall out of his ass.

no one had ever told him that picking up the girl he liked was going to be scarier than fighting villains who were quite literally out to kill him for no good reason, and he really didn’t appreciate it. his leg was bouncing up and down as he parked his car in front of your apartment building, his hand shaking as he texted you a quick ‘i’m here’ before getting out of his car, flower bouquet in hand.

the flowers were also a cause of his nervousness. he had spent hours trying to decide if taking flowers to a hang out that was not specified to be a date was too much, but he had spent too much time and money to bribe renjun to tell him your favorite flower, even when he had no idea where he had gotten that information. so he stood next to his car, a bouquet of carnations and forget me nots in hand as he nervously watched the door, waiting for you to come out of it.

you weren’t the most calm in the world, either. you had wracked your head trying to figure out what to wear, because although very cute, mark’s words had not been very helpful to your decision. you had settled in casual clothing while praying to every single being out there that it hadn’t occurred to mark to take you to some place expensive or fancy at 11:30 in the morning. you didn’t really help yourself ease your nerves, either, because you should’ve known that calling rei and chanhee would only end one way; with you wondering if this friendly little brunch hang out was supposed to be a date. he would have clarified if it was, right? maybe hinted at it or something…

your thoughts were cut short as your eyes found mark through the glass doors, a smile unconsciously taking place on your lips as you watched him seemingly talk to himself. the flowers on his hands made your heart shrink in adoration for him, how on earth could someone be that cute? you swore you could squeal at the way he smiled when his eyes met yours.

“hey, ynnie” he breathed out, sounding a little more nervous than he usually did.

“hey, markie” you smiled and grabbed the flowers as he handed them to you, your eyebrows shooting up as you noticed they were your favorites. “thank you so much, these are my favorites” you commented, your smile widening at the smell of the flowers.

mark suppressed the need to whip out and take a picture that he would post on every single platform available just so people could be blessed by the astonishing sight that was your face, opting for the safest option. “i’m glad you like them” he smiled as he moved to the side, opening his car door for you like his mom had always told him to do.

“thank you, what a gentleman” you almost giggled, getting into the car and taking advantage of the few seconds where he couldn’t see you to gush silently. “where are we going today?” you asked once he got into the car.

“it’s a surprise, so if you could please not pay attention to the road it would be great” he chuckled lightly, and you moved your body so you would be facing him instead of the road as comfortably as you could with the seatbelt on.

“you want to be mysterious soo bad, don’t you?” you asked with a teasing voice, eliciting a small laugh out of him as he began driving, already knowing he made a grave mistake when he noticed that you would now be staring at him the whole drive there.

“sure, let’s say that”

…

“okay, close your eyes because we’re close” he said, interrupting the small laughs that you earned with the story you were telling him after a drive where he almost killed you about four times since he kept getting distracted by your stare.

you obeyed him without a single word, closing your eyes and hugging the flowers closer to your chest with anticipation. mark forced himself to not stare at you too much so he could park safely, telling you to wait and rushing to open your car door “keep your eyes closed, okay, i’ll guide you there”

you nodded and looked for his hand as you got out of the car, feeling sparks fly the moment your skin made contact with his. he guided you slowly towards the place, stopping where you deemed the middle of nowhere before letting you know you could open your eyes.

nothing could prepare you for what you saw when you did. a blanket laying on a small, secluded area of the prettiest park in town with a picnic basket laying on it “i asked hyuck to set it up while we drove here” he said, shyly stepping away from you.

“it’s so pretty, thank you so much” you smiled, still astonished at the amount of effort he had put into a single hang out.

“it’s nothing, really” he commented as he went ahead and took a seat on the blanket, patting the place at his side to ask you to sit next to him. “come on”

you couldn’t even hide the love in your eyes as you took a seat next to him “so, what are we going to eat?”

…

the time passed with not a single moment of awkward silence between you. it astonished you still how easy it was to talk to mark. he always made sure to listen to you and not talk too much about himself, even though you could easily sit there and listen to him for years on end without getting bored.

“and then she got arrested a few years later” he concluded his story, chuckling slightly at the sight of you with your jaw slack.

“that’s a crazy story, are you okay?” you asked, half jokingly and half serious.

“yeah, me and hyuck laugh at it all the time so don’t even worry about it” he reassured, his heart warming at your concern.

“you and hyuck have been through everything together, haven’t you?” you asked before biting a piece of watermelon.

“we have, he’s been my best friend since we were like eight” he nodded, a fond smile overtaking his face “we both used to get bullied so we kinda teamed up and became really close. he is kind of weird sometimes, but there is not a single dull moment with him… he’s also the smartest person i know, even when he acts like he isnt”

you listened closely with a smile on your lips as he spoke about his friend, finding it adorable “i can see how much you guys mean to each other, and i know it’s such a beautiful feeling to have a person like that”

mark hummed in agreement “you’re like that with rei, no?”

“yeah, i am… i mean, i’ve known her forever and at this point she’s more my sister than my friend” you smiled “but i’m lucky enough to have two people like that, chanhee is lowkey the reason i’m still alive”

he smiled fondly as he watched you, stars dancing in his eyes because of how incredibly marvelled he was by the simple sight of you.

“i get it, i should thank him for keeping you alive for long enough to meet me, then” he smiled, and you felt your heart skip a couple of beats.

“yeah, i guess you should”

…

“thank you for everything, mark, i had a really good time” you thanked as he opened your car door, now in front of your apartment once again.

“of course, ynnie, it’s my pleasure always” he smiled softly, his voice tender.you couldn’t help but feel like your heart was going to burst out of your chest at the way he was looking at you. did he look at all his friends like that? “i should go, my bio paper is waiting for me”

“sure, i should go inside,” you muttered, your voice as soft as his. neither of you made a move to leave the position you were currently in, simply staring at each other’s eyes like it was your life line.

“okay, i really do have to leave” he chuckled as he finally broke eye contact, knowing that if he looked at you for longer he might do something he would regret.

“okay, go, bye” you said with a light tone, moving quickly to leave a kiss on his cheek before waving at him and almost running into your apartment building, leaving mark with a dumbfounded face as he watched you walk away.

he was going to burst.

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★ blue's corner ;; i hope you guys enjoyed this !! stay hydrated and eat well today<3 ★ tag list ;; @winwintea @neozon3nha @kittydollzz @spacejip @injunnie-lemon @jovialdelusionbouquet @n0hyuck @julsinglee @leejenoenthusiast @morkiee @taroddori @mrsjohnnysuh @sunghoonsgfreal @dr3amersdiary @grlscrushing @flaminghotyourmom @johnsuhsbanana @stqrgr7 @sibwol @synthwxve @222brainrot @jeonghansshitester @gomdoleemyson @ninahorikoshifr @chriscentric @flamingi @yizhrt @clean-soap @haechology @hyuckies18 @yutasloverr @kukkurookkoo @beanpd @remgeolli @pikibell @marksendgame @vantxx95 @iwantmarklee ★ back to the main masterlist ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any content !!

#mark #mark lee #mark smau #nct dream #nct dream smau #kpop #kpop smau #nct #nct smau #mark texts #mark x reader #wayv #mark social media au #nct dream social media au #nct social media au #🕸🕷✮⋆˙ peterm4rkerswrld #🕸🕷✮⋆˙ from the rooftops #🕸🕷✮⋆˙ mark

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firenati0n · 3 months ago

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forget-me-nots, breeze, forehead kiss - a triple drabble for @hollivens 💐

It’s a cloudless day, sky an endless cerulean as Henry walks home from the shelter. He’s holding a bouquet of blue forget-me-nots, courtesy of a delivery from Alex. Every year on this date like clockwork, he receives flower arrangements at work—some from shelter staff, a particularly colorful one from Pez, but a striking blue one always from Alex.

His eyes sting as he rounds the corner to the brownstone. It’s been years, but he isn’t ever sure what the morning will bring on this day. Maybe it’s sinking into his bed, watching his father’s movies with memories flickering behind his eyelids, faded with time. Or, it’s a day of courage, spent in the shelter or in a park, David and quiet contemplation keeping him company.

Today, in the gentle breeze, there’s a whispered affirmation—you can do this, I believe in you, I am always with you, I’m proud of how far you’ve come.

He wipes at his eyes before rummaging for his keys, a futile exercise—the door suddenly swings open to a beaming Alex.

“Just in time,” Alex says, before pulling Henry in by the sleeve of his coat. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Between the caress of his father outside and the comforting smell of Alex’s efforts inside, Henry knows—he will be okay.

Alex carefully watches the flicker of emotions cross Henry’s face before pushing himself up on his toes to give Henry a forehead kiss, tender and sweet. He always knows, because he’s Alex, and his fidelity to Henry’s emotions knows no bounds. And isn’t that lovely? The knowledge that Henry is never alone, that no matter how the day goes, whether he’s cocooned in a blanket or braving through the workday, he always has this to come back to. A bouquet of flowers, a forehead kiss, and Alex’s cooking—home.

#rwrb #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #triple drabble #roop writes #drabble #hollivens #idk what this is but i like it and it's the most i have written in day so #thank you poms <3

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moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami · 7 months ago

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heartthrob ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

note: the year is 2007, and as all romcoms do— none of this makes proper sense. (inspired greatly by notting hill, 1999)

summary: a coffee shop, the owner, hollywood's most famous actor, and a meet-cute

warnings: a cuss word here and there

genre: romcom

“Hello,” A baritone voice came after the telltale toll of the shop bell— baritone yet young, vaguely familiar but definitely not someone she knew well. “Are you open?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute!” She yelled back from the kitchen. She pursed her lips as she gave the cupboard a final thrust, the dodgy thing has always been a right pain in the arse.

“Hi, how can I help you, sir?” She asked cheerily as she emerged from the side door, the soles of her boots tapping loudly against the aged wooden floors.

She paused in her steps when she saw the sopping wet figure at the door, standing awkwardly and apprehensively at the threshold. Droplets of water trickled down from the sleeves of his coat down to the WELCOME rug placed conveniently at the entrance. “Oh, gods! Are you alright?”

“You don’t happen to have any tissues in here, do you?” He asked with a tight smile.

“Unfortunately, no. We’ve run out at the moment.” She scrambled to grab the nearest tea towel from the cabinet before rushing over to help him. “This’ll have to do.”

“Thank you.” Their fingers grazed as he took the fabric from her hold. “I’m sorry for making such a mess.”

“It’s fine! The floorboards needed a bit of a clean anyway.” She joked with a half-hearted grin in an attempt to ease the atmosphere. “I can have your jacket dried in the back if you want.”

“Oh, I can’t possibly intrude any further.” He waved his hand to veto her suggestion before tending to himself once more.

“You’re not from here, are you?” She asked with a sudden interest. With each minute he spent in her presence, she felt like she was closer and closer to figuring out exactly who this man was. She’d seen him enough times, surely. His name was at the tip of her tongue.

“The accent wasn’t a dead giveaway?” He grinned at her.

“Well, you get your occasional round of Americans here and there.” She shrugged her shoulders. “The sunnies were a bit on the nose though.”

He clicked his tongue, quickly pulling the pair down his face and placing it against the neckline of his shirt. “The weather report said it was going to be sunny.”

“Weather reports are dodgy.” She raised her eyebrow knowingly.

“I’m guessing it doesn't rain often where you’re from?”

“Twice every year,” He pursed his lips. “But I’m never around enough to know how true that actually is.”

“Sounds like you travel a lot.”

“A fair amount. My work keeps me away from home.”

“Ah,” She nodded her head. She must’ve seen him in a travel advert somewhere. “What do you do exactly?”

“Well, I’m an actor.”

She stopped to look at him more carefully, tilting her head sideways from one direction to the next to get a hint. She met his gaze momentarily, her eyes squinting as she wracked her brain for any clue of who he might be. He looked at her expectantly.

The dozens of movie posters she'd seen at the cinema came to her with a dazzling clarity. Ecstatic by her epiphany, she slammed her hand against the counter loudly— inducing a painful bang and an equally pain-stricken howl almost immediately.

“Are you OK?!” He asked with a panicked edge to his tone. He shoved the tea towel down his pocket carelessly as he ambled over to her. “I don’t know the emergency numbers here so I’m gonna have to either carry you or drag you— whichever comes first.”

She laughed loudly in amusement whilst nursing her hand, the pain slowly ebbing away as he continued to fuss over her. “I can’t believe it! Luke Castellan is in my depressing little shop!”

“Wait, fuck, are you sure you’re OK?” Luke mouth twitched, as if contemplating whether this was an appropriate time to laugh. He looked at her as if she’d gone insane. Maybe she did, maybe she actively was. This oddly seemed like the stuff of delusions.

“Yes, I’m fine!” She flipped her wrists as if to show him. “Healthy as a horse.”

He cracked a smile at her comment.

The bell let out a loud clang as a young man peeked his head into the shop, his umbrella left out in the street to protect him from the rain. “Luke! I’ve been trying to contact you for the last hour!”

“I suppose that’s your cue to leave then.” She smiled bashfully, the embarrassment catching up instantaneously. She was rubbish at this.

“I guess it is.” He hummed lowly with a grimace. He gave her a once over. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Luke, maybe hurry the fuck up?” The young man grumbled impatiently.

“Right,” She nibbled on her lower lip. “Thanks for coming around.”

“I’ll come back and actually buy something.” He said as he turned to leave.

“I’ll put you up to that.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

She was in the middle of a yawn when a loud voice called from across the street, a familiar tea towel gripped between ring-clad fingers and a head of black curls bobbing through the crowds.

It was still quite early in the morning, but Notting Hill was buzzing with life.

“Hey!” Luke yelled as he hurriedly walked towards her, expertly maneuvering himself between the masses of people and the stalls that lined the road. “I accidentally brought this with me. I had it cleaned and everything.”

“Thank you,” She said as she received it. The keys to the shop dangled between her fingers, waiting to be used. “You could have done away with the old thing.”

“It felt right to give it back.” He gave her a smile, more performative than yesterday— dazzling and charming, nothing less from an actor, of course. “It might have been sentimental, being in a display cabinet and all.”

“Well, it’s memorabilia from a royal wedding some decades ago.” She responded with a blush. “My mum likes to collect these things.”

“At least it’s got some national value to it.” He raised his eyebrows.

“There’s that, yeah.” She chuckled. “My mum’s gonna be relieved, I’m sure. Thank you, Luke— may I call you Luke?”

He stared at her for a moment; what for? She wasn’t exactly sure, but it was certainly magnetic. She couldn’t move away and it felt like everything else aside from the man in front of her was a blindspot. Her eyes met his, and Luke’s grin grew imperceptibly wider and her heart thumped indescribably faster.

“Sure, yes, definitely.” Catching himself, he stood straighter. His face looked ruddy, either owed mostly to the sunbeams warming his skin or the excitement thrumming underneath his flesh. “I’d like that.”

He stuffed his hand into his pocket, just in time to tend to his phone’s shrill ringtone and its incessant vibrations. Luke groaned as he pulled it out. “It’s probably my manager. I have to go, unfortunately.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, equally as red as his cheeks despite the lack of direct sunlight against her skin. “Sorry to hear that. Have fun spending the afternoon slaying monsters.”

“The movie's about a bunch of kids on a cruise ship actually,” He laughed as he began to walk away backwards, his eyes completely fixated on her.

“Well, have fun doing that then.” She waved him off with an amused smile.

“I doubt it.” He winked at her before turning around at the curb then jogging down to god knows where.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Hey, mum.” She greeted when she walked into their shared flat, the whistle of the kettle loudly whooshing from the kitchen. “Did someone ring the shop while I was gone?”

It took her mother a minute to respond, too enraptured by David Beckham’s impeccable left-leg hurl into the opposing team’s goal. She listened attentively to the live play-by-play narration as she made herself a cup of tea, the announcer was basically gripping his seat with anticipation. Telltale cheers of a victory echoed through the walls.

“Mum?” She called again.

“Oh, yes, sorry, dear!” Her mother replied distractedly. “There was a young bloke that called… think he mentioned his name was Luke.”

Thank the gods she was alone in the kitchen because the silent giddy squeals and foot stomps were definitely concerning. Christ, was this real life?

She cleared her throat and feigned nonchalance. She drummed her fingers against the marble surface of the counter, her nails absently digging against old remnants of a sticker. “And what did he say?”

“He said he’s staying at the Ritz under Hermes, so give that name to the concierge if you wanna call.” A beat. “Have you gotten yourself a boyfriend?"

“He’s not.”

“Be more definitive,” Her mother snapped. Teasingly, she added: “Not ever or not yet?”

“I’m not so sure, actually.” She clicked her tongue, wracked by pensive thoughts of juvenile daydreaming. She was getting ahead of herself, surely. She needed to approach this from a rational perspective: Luke Castellan had a whole life in Hollywood, decidedly not London. He had a bombshell girlfriend back at home with a career just as luxurious as his. He was a star burning brightly and she could barely get herself to flicker.

“Doesn’t sound like a ‘not ever’ to me.” Her mother responded with a lilt to her voice.

She swallowed thickly at how foreboding it sounded.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson series #pjo tv show #pjo series #percy jackson

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thepixelelf · 1 year ago

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Oh Baby, You Part 42 - Recovery Mission?

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Wonwoo turns the small bundle of forget-me-nots in his hands. He knows flowers alone aren’t enough, but he grazes his fingers over the bit of white ribbon holding the posy together. You’d always loved the little bits and bobs you could collect over time. There was once a red ribbon wrapped around a gift he bought you back before he left for Mongolia — courtesy of the store’s gift wrapping station — which you saved and tied in a cute little bow on one of the drawer handles in your old apartment. While he was gone, he would look forward to seeing it in the background of video calls. Like it was a part of him that he left behind to stay with you.

Shit. He feels like an idiot.

In the elevator mirror, he meets Chan’s eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

He shrugs. “Are you?”

Looking back down at the flowers, Wonwoo lets out a long breath. “What if they don’t want to hear it?”

“Well…” Chan gives his head a pensive tilt. “Don’t you think you owe it to them to try? Even if they turn you away?”

“You’re…” Wonwoo doesn’t get to finish. The elevator door opens, and even though his apartment — and yours, by association — is around a corner and hidden from sight, he hears your voice. And someone else’s.

Stepping out of the elevator, Wonwoo stops just before rounding the corner and peeks for a half second around it. A vaguely familiar man is standing right in front of you, holding a bouquet of white flowers, while you linger in your doorway. Though Wonwoo quickly ducks back behind the corner, he knows you well enough to tell that you’re tired, and you don’t really want to be talking to that person.

Chan follows a little too quickly. “What’s—”

Arm shooting out, Wonwoo stops Chan from revealing himself in the hallway. “Who is that guy?” he whispers.

Chan peeks around the corner. “Oh, that’s Choi Seungcheol.”

“Mingyu’s rival?” The corners of Wonwoo’s lips quirk downward. “Why would he be…?”

“Remember when I made you take me to the hospital? They went on a date that day.”

“A date?” Something bitter settles at the bottom of Wonwoo’s stomach. He risks another look around the wall. Damn. The guy does look good in a suit.

Chan shrugs. “MT didn’t really seem into it. My money is on him trying to dig into the whole baby scandal. He’s totally got that ambitious business villain from the dramas vibe.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“I think he’s trying to get information on them so he can dethrone Kim Mingyu.”

Wonwoo frowns. “By dating them?”

Shrugging again, Chan leans against the wall with his arms crossed. “It’s just a guess. I’m trying to not snoop anymore.”

Wonwoo gestures a finger between them. “What do you call this, then?”

“Recovery mission?”

“You—”

“Look,” your voice comes from down the hall, slightly louder. “Seungcheol. I already told you. I know what you’re after.”

“I won’t try anything from now on.”

“Sure, sure. And I’m just supposed to think you want me because— what? My dashing just-made-a-microwave-meal-for-dinner-after-not-sleeping-for-twenty-two-hours looks? My abandoned bachelor’s degree? My complete disinterest in diffidence?”

“Dividends.”

“Exactly, Seungcheol. You’d never convince anyone you could want anything from me except for information on my child. Which will get you nowhere, by the way.”

“I’d like a chance to try again. To show my better side.”

“And I should give you that chance because…?”

Wonwoo peeks just in time to see Choi Seungcheol throw you a disarming smile and hold his bouquet out.

“Tulips?”

His feet start moving before he realizes it, and Wonwoo steps between you and Choi without a second thought. “They were saying no,” he asserts.

“What the...” you whisper your surprise.

Choi just furrows his brow. “Who are you?”

“No one,” you answer for him, slightly brushing him aside even as he glares down Choi. “Listen, I think you should—”

“The name’s Wonwoo.” And because he’s stupid, he goes on to say, “I’m Orion’s father.”

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oby tagging 1, 50/50: @shiningstar-byulxx @shuabby-woowoo @90s-belladonna @xavi-in-kpopland @kachren @xmessaroundx @chwevernonlover @kwanisms @dalamjisung @1ntaktak @crazywittysassy @butterfliesinthenightsky @ddaengpotate @dorrysstuff @ckline35 @vanishingboots @potatofrieswithketchup @minhwa @oncecaratorbit @sugacookees @royal9 @doodlelibrary @myjaeyunn @yksthings @jundundun @amosmortese @jaeskz @seungmintree @woozarts @my-chaos-in-stars @yoonychoik @ksywoo @kellesvt @candidupped @sharkipoonis @wooahaeproductions @capsiclesworld @hellodefthings @sunshineshouchan @calumsfringe @caratinluv @pinkysinnerbaby @winterwallacehenderson @jvhoons @woo8hao @sxftiell @wondering-out-loud

#seventeen smau #seventeen social media au #svt smau #svt social media au #wonwoo smau #wonwoo social media au #jeon wonwoo smau #jeon wonwoo social media au #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

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waitingandwishing · 21 days ago

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(Cross posted on Wattpad)

Prev - Next Chapter

"I was requested by Jayce Talis to enter," Y/N spoke, her tone steady but soft.

The guards exchanged uncertain glances, their eyes lingering on her unusual white hair. It stood out, stark and striking, carefully brushed unlike her usual matted hair.

Her outfit was similarly transformed. Gone was her usual Zaun attire: the utility belt, fitted black pants, and boots.

Instead, she wore a cream-colored satin blouse, its high shine catching the light. Ruffled layers trimmed the chest and sleeves, exuding an elegance unfamiliar to the woman from the Undercity. Tailored black slacks completed the ensemble.

In her hands, she clutched a bouquet of forget-me-nots, their delicate blue petals trembling slightly with her grip. The flowers felt symbolic— bitterly ironic given the years and the silence that had grown between her and the man she was about to see.

Three rings adorned her fingers, the same jewels still attached to them. To an untrained eye, they were merely jewelry, but to Y/N, they were something much more.

"Name?"

"Y/N." She replied softly, her voice carrying a hint of hesitation.

The guards studied her for a moment longer before stepping aside and opening the heavy doors. Y/N stepped through into the room, bracing herself for what lay beyond. The air was cold, likely to manage the nosebleeds, and the windows were tightly shut.

"Jayce said I’d be having a visitor," A soft voice called out, pulling Y/N’s attention to the frail figure in the bed. She nodded, taking in his features as she moved to sit on the stool beside him.

"I didn’t think it’d be you, though," The voice continued, tinted with a mix of surprise and warmth.

"Hi, Viktor," Y/N replied gently.

"It’s good to see you again," Viktor said with a faint smile, his voice carrying a quiet rasp. "I’d greet you properly, but—"

"You’re dying," Y/N interrupted, her voice cracking with the weight of those words.

"Obviously," Viktor replied with a dry chuckle, though the humor failed to mask the reality of his condition.

Y/N’s heart clenched at the sight of him. Bedridden, a tube fastened to his nose, his skin pale and gaunt. He was far weaker than she remembered, far removed from the Viktor who had once returned her pocket watch with that same kind smile. Her lips trembled, betraying her urge to cry, something she seldom allowed herself.

"Are those for me?" Viktor asked, gesturing weakly toward the bouquet.

Y/N nodded, setting the flowers carefully on the table beside him. For a moment, she simply stared at them before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you remember… When we first met?"

Viktor’s expression softened. "Of course. You were running from a group of people you’d just stolen from and—"

"—Crashed into you," Y/N finished with a bittersweet smile.

"Yes," Viktor continued, his eyes glinting with fondness. "Then the next day, you presented a new cane to me that you made yourself."

"I felt bad," Y/N admitted, her voice filled with a quiet sincerity. "I dragged you into my mess, and had to make it right somehow."

"After that," Viktor said, his gaze distant, "We became best friends."

Y/N followed his line of sight to the closed window. Her voice was barely audible as she asked, "I’m asking for a lot but… Can we rewind, Viktor? Do you think we could redo this?"

Viktor reached out a trembling hand, brushing it through her hair with a faint smile. "I’m not sure I have enough time to rewind," He murmured. "But… Perhaps we can be friends again."

Y/N hesitated only for a moment before leaning in, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. It had been so long since Viktor had felt such warmth, and for him, it was a comfort he didn’t know he needed.

"I’m sorry," Y/N whispered against his shoulder. "I’m sorry I didn’t write to you. I’m sorry it came to this."

"I’ve missed you, Y/N," Viktor replied softly, his voice trembling as he held her. His arms, weak and unsteady, wrapped around her in return.

Y/N fought back tears, knowing it would be selfish to cry when Viktor was the one dying. Still, her heart ached with regret and longing.

Her gaze dropped to her rings, their stones glowing faintly, as though responding to her thoughts. ‘You can fix this…’

"I can fix this," She whispered, pulling back to look Viktor in the eyes. Her hand reached out, cupping his pale cheek.

Viktor blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

For a moment, Y/N hesitated. Could she tell him? Would he understand? Mages were hunted; their very existence was a crime. But this was Viktor, the man she had trusted with so much before. The man she still loved.

"I…" She faltered, her mind a storm of conflicting thoughts. ‘But you can’t tell him. You can’t.’ Finally, she said, "I want to help. I’ll find a way. I always do, my love."

Viktor nodded, a faint smile gracing his lips. "It’s good to see you again, mojí drahoušek." As she caressed his cheek, Viktor raised her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her trembling fingers.

_____________________________________________________

Y/N huffed as she stepped through the dimly lit door, relieved to finally shed the uncomfortably elegant clothes she had worn in Piltover. The cool air of the room wrapped around her. “Bluejay?”

Silence greeted her at first, thick and oppressive, before a voice emerged from the shadows.

“Where were you?” Jinx’s voice drifted through the room, quiet and dull, almost lifeless.

“In Piltover,” Y/N replied, frowning as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

A dry, bitter chuckle echoed. “Really?” Jinx’s voice sharpened, her words laced with venom. “Is that another lie like everyone else gives me? Or is it just the vague truth?”

“Bluejay, what are you—” Y/N started, her voice faltering in the face of the palpable tension.

But before she could finish, a blur of blue hair and movement exploded from the shadows. Jinx slammed into Y/N, tackling her to the ground with a shocking force. The cold press of a knife blade bit into Y/N’s neck, and the glint of Jinx’s wide, frantic eyes loomed above her.

“Where were you?!” Jinx screamed, her voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

“In Piltover.” Y/N cried, struggling beneath the smaller girl’s wiry strength. “Jinx, what are you—”

“LIAR!” Jinx’s voice broke into a ragged, furious shout. “EVERYONE LIES! Everyone leaves! You promised you wouldn’t leave me!”

Jinx’s grip loosened slightly as she stumbled back, clutching at her head with trembling hands. Her breaths came fast and shallow, her chest heaving as she muttered under her breath.

“You promised…” She whispered, her voice cracking. “Shut up! Shut up, all of you!”

Her fists clenched tightly against her skull, and she began to hit her head, frantic and desperate to drown out the chaos that only she could hear. “Let me think! Let me think!”

Y/N’s heart wrenched at the sight of her sister unraveling before her. Carefully, she sat up, her movements deliberate and slow as she reached for Jinx’s wrists.

“Jinx,” Y/N said softly, her voice calm despite the fear roiling in her chest. “It’s just me… It’s Y/N. I’m right here.”

Jinx’s wild eyes flicked to her, darting back and forth as though she wasn’t entirely sure if Y/N was real. Her breath hitched, her hands trembling violently as she rasped, “Why did you leave me, Ma? You promised… Y-you said you wouldn’t—”

Y/N took hold of Jinx’s shoulders, grounding her with a steady touch. “I would never leave you, Jinx,” She said firmly, her voice unwavering. “I would never hurt you. I would never betray you. I’m always on your side, no matter what.”

Jinx’s trembling hands slowly lowered, her manic energy giving way to something softer, something broken. Her wide, frightened eyes filled with tears as her lip quivered. A choked sob escaped her as she leaned forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Y/N.

“Where did you go?” Jinx’s voice was small, fragile, like a child seeking reassurance.

Y/N held her tightly, one hand smoothing down Jinx’s messy blue hair as she whispered, “I was in Piltover. I was visiting a sick friend and just wanted to see him before he… Before he died.”

Jinx pulled back slightly, her expression conflicted. Her gaze flicked around the room as though searching for something unseen, before landing back on Y/N.

She gripped Y/N’s arm tightly, her fingers digging into her skin. “You’re not lying, are you? You wouldn’t… You wouldn’t lie to me, right?”

“Never,” Y/N said without hesitation, her voice laced with sincerity. “I’d never lie to you, Jinx. I promise.”

Jinx stared at her, her teary eyes studying Y/N’s face for a long moment before she nodded shakily. Her erratic breathing began to slow, and the tension in her grip loosened. She hugged Y/N again, burying her face in her friend’s shoulder like a lost child finally finding safety.

“Don’t leave me again,” Jinx whispered, her voice trembling but firm.

Y/N’s arms tightened around her. “I won’t,” She said quietly, stroking Jinx’s hair. “I’ll always come back for you. A bird can’t fly without both of its wings, right?”

“Right.”

“Now… Tell me what’s wrong.” Y/N’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as she gently stroked Jinx’s hair. The tension in the room seemed to loosen just slightly under her calming touch, though Jinx’s trembling hadn’t completely stopped.

“Sevika said…” Jinx hesitated, her voice barely audible. Her fingers clutched tightly to Y/N’s shirt as though letting go might make her crumble. “Vi’s back.”

“What?” Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “But… Silco said she was dead.”

Jinx’s jaw tightened, her hands clenched into fists. “Yeah… But Sevika said she was back.”

Y/N studied Jinx’s face carefully, her hand still stroking her hair in soothing motions. She tilted Jinx’s chin up gently, coaxing her to meet her eyes.

“Do you… Do you want to see her again?” Y/N asked, her tone cautious yet supportive. “It’s your choice, Jinx. And if you want to see her, I’ll be there with you.”

Jinx’s expression flickered with hesitation, but eventually, she nodded, “I want to see for myself,” She said, though her voice lacked the confidence Y/N had hoped for.

Before Y/N could reply, a frown crossed Jinx’s face, darkening her expression. “But…” Jinx added quietly, her fists tightening again. “Sevika said she was with some girl. An enforcer.”

Y/N blinked, the words taking a moment to sink in. “Vi’s working with an enforcer?” She repeated slowly, trying to wrap her head around the idea. “That… Doesn’t really sound like Vi.”

“Yeah, well, people change,” Jinx muttered, her voice low and bitter. She looked away, her eyes tracing patterns on the floor as her fingers absentmindedly traced lines on her own skin. “We’ve changed.”

Y/N tilted her head, leaning closer to catch Jinx’s eyes again. “Are you talking about appearance-wise or personality-wise?”

For a moment, Jinx stayed silent, but then a faint smile crept across her lips. “I dunno,” she said softly, glancing up at Y/N. “But I still prefer your longer hair.”

Jinx let out a soft laugh and reached out to ruffle Y/N’s hair playfully. It was a rare, genuine moment of lightness between them, and Y/N smiled too, feeling some of the tension in her chest ease.

“Sorry about… Earlier, I guess,” Jinx added, her voice quieter now, tinged with guilt.

“It’s fine,” Y/N replied with a chuckle. “You know I would’ve pushed you off if I could.”

Jinx’s smile grew as she pouted in mock indignation. “Yeah… I know.” She leaned back slightly. “Let’s go find Vi.”

(Idk Jinx is kinda OOC??? Like idk really know how to write her character tbh 😭)

_____________________________________________________

Jinx held Y/N’s hand tightly as she pulled the trigger of the smoke bomb. She turned to look at Y/N, eyeing the three rings on her finger. “Y’know, I’ve never seen those in action.” She said.

“Well, don’t be upset if it’s not up to standards, alright?” Y/N said, placing a hand on Jinx’s shoulder, “And don’t be upset if Vi doesn’t come either. Sevika might’ve been wrong.”

Jinx nodded as she held the blue smoke up, her hand shaking slightly as it puffed out the last remnants of it. A raven cried out loud as she waited for a second before yelling and throwing it off the building.

“Maybe she’s not here.” Jinx muttered. Y/N nodded, taking her hand to walk back before hearing a voice she’d never thought she’d hear again.

“Powder?”

Jinx turned around slowly, wondering if Vi was real or not. She turned to Y/N, who nodded with a small smile. “Vi?”

“Oh, Powder!” Vi teared up, rushing over to hug Jinx tightly.

The blue haired girl stayed frozen, wondering if this was just an illusion to make her feel safe or not. She dropped the gemstone to the ground as tears ran down her face and she finally hugged Vi.

“I’m so sorry Powder, I… I tried to come back. I promise, I did. But I… I got arrested.” Vi trembled, placing a hand on Jinx’s cheek.

“Marcus?” Jinx realized.

“I don’t know. I… It doesn’t matter. I just… I never thought I’d see you again.” Vi’s latched onto Jinx tightly.

“Are you real?” Jinx asked.

“Yes, of course. It’s me, Vi, your sister.” Vi smiled through her tears. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Things changed when you left. We changed.” Jinx said, tears cascading down her face as she started to cry.

“We…” Vi turned to finally look at Y/N, her eyes widening. Her hair was cut shorter and her eyes were darker, if she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought it was someone else.

“Y/N!” Vi said with a smile as she hugged the older girl. Y/N smiled, slight resentment still settled in her chest as she hugged her back.

“Hi, Vi.” She said quietly, turning to Jinx to come closer.

“I know you two did what you did to survive.” Vi said, turning to Y/N. “Thank you, Y/N, for taking care of her… But what matters is that we’re here together.” She hugged both of them tightly.

Footsteps pounding on metal was the first thing Y/N heard before seeing an enforcer girl standing behind Vi. Jinx quickly held up her Machine gun and Y/N raised her hand slightly, gems glowing blue.

“Who’s she?” Jinx asked Vi.

“Who are you?” The woman asked, her accent clear. She was from Piltover, that much was obvious.

“It’s okay. She’s a friend.” Vi reassured the two of her sisters.

“Sevika wasn’t lying? You’re with an enforcer?” Jinx asked, backing away into Y/N for support.

“Vi, why’re you working with an enforcer?” The white haired woman asked.

“Your sister is Jinx?” The enforcer spoke, “And those jewels on her ring, those are the same gems as what she stole!”

“Caitlyn, just listen, we can work this out.” Vi said, panic rising in her tone.

“This is a trick! You’re playing me! You’re playing us!” Jinx realized, raising her machine gun higher once again to aim at the both of them, “Shut up! I’m in no mood!”

“We didn’t say anything.” Caitlyn frowned.

“I wasn’t talking to you!” Jinx pointed the machine gun to the enforcer.

“Powder, it’s okay.” Vi raised her hand.

“Stop calling me that. It’s Jinx now. Powder fell down a well.” Jinx snarled.

“You’re not a jinx. God, I never should have-”

“Stop talking to me like I’m a child!” Jinx yelled, pointing the machine gun to Vi’s neck. “Was that why you came? For this stupid stone?”

“No, I don’t even know what that is, I…”

“You’re a class act, sister.” Jinx chuckled, “Sister. Thought I missed her. Bet you wouldn’t miss her! Why has Y/N been a better sister than you?!”

Vi turned to Y/N, with desperate eyes. And all of a sudden she was back with Vander, back to cleaning Vi’s face full of soot and wrapping her injured hands. She was back there, and frozen. “Oh, Vi…” She whispered, her resolve cracking at the sight.

“Powder, Y/N! I’m here for the both of you. Only you two.” Vi smacked the gun away from her face, stepping forward and outstretching her hand to Jinx. “You can fire that thing if you want, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to abandon you again.”

Jinx paused, frozen before yelling, “Everyone shut up I need to think!”

“Y/N… Please…” Vi’s voice cracked and Y/N felt her hand tremble at the sight.

“I’m not mad at you, I forgive you, Vi. For what you did… It wasn’t your fault.” Y/N said, reaching a hand out towards her. “Come with us, Violet.”

Vi backed away, her eyes widened. “What happened?” She whispered.

taglist: @night-fall-moon @cyberwears @g0ul666 (If you'd like to be added tell me in the comments!!!)

#arcane #arcane x reader #x reader #jinx arcane #jinx #vi arcane #vi #violet arcane #violet #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn #viktor x reader #viktor #viktor arcane #jayce arcane #jayce talis #jayce talis arcane #caitlyn kirraman #caitlyn kirraman arcane

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