#It's taking me ages to finish already. Backgrounds too? Not this time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vnti-vnxiety-recs · 25 days ago

Text

NIGHT OUT (M)

★ PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 3k

★ GENRE(S): smut

☆ SUMMARY: One night out with the girls couldn't hurt. Right?

★ ☆ WARNINGS: alcohol, unprotected sex, spanking, degradation, smut, mature, MDNI

☆★ NOTES: Based of this tiktok. Thanks to everyone who voted on Jaemin during the poll! I just wanted to write something quick while i worked on another WIP.

────୨ৎ────

“Girl, come on! We haven’t seen you in so long!” your friend pleads from the other end of the line.

“I know, but it’s already late, and you know how Jaemin gets about me going out without him,” you reply, glancing at the time and feeling the weight of exhaustion tugging at your eyelids.

You’re sprawled on the couch, half-asleep, with an old movie playing faintly in the background when your friend’s call interrupts your quiet evening. It feels like ages since you’ve had a night out with just the girls. After a rough encounter with a sleazy guy at a bar—once—Jaemin has refused to let you step out alone ever since.

“There’s nothing to worry about! You’ll be with us. Nothing is going to happen. He just worries too much,” she reassures you.

“I mean, yeah… but still, I don’t want to deal with him fussing over it,” you say, rolling your eyes in frustration.

“Well, he doesn’t have to know! It’s been ages since we’ve had a girls’ night,” she insists, her excitement palpable.

She has a point. You ponder it for a brief moment, weighing your options. “Fine, but I’m not trying to be out all night,” you concede, a reluctant smile creeping onto your face as you imagine the laughter and fun you’ve been missing.

────୨ৎ────

Your friends all arrive and start pregaming at your house while you finish getting ready. Sitting at your vanity, you apply the final touches to your makeup.

“We are going to have so much fun tonight!” Mia exclaims, a wide grin on her face.

“Do you really think it will be okay?” you start to feel a twinge of worry.

“Uh-uh! Stop thinking about him,” Chae interjects, unexpectedly shoving a drink into your hand. “You need to relax and have fun—just drink this!”

You take the shot in one smooth motion, and before you know it, another one has found its way into your grasp. By the time the Uber arrives at your place, you’re already feeling a pleasant buzz, and thoughts of Jaemin have drifted away.

You realize how much you’ve missed nights out with your girls. You pile into the back of the Uber, your thighs sticking to the leather seats of the car in your short dresses as laughter fills the air. Camera flashes erupt as you snap selfies, capturing the joy of the moment. Once you arrive at the club, you finish off Liz's flask, the alcohol warming you further, and soon you’re stumbling and giggling as you make your way inside.

As you step inside the club, the bass thumps like a heartbeat, reverberating through your body and igniting a surge of exhilaration. The lights flash in vibrant colors, creating a pulsing atmosphere that feels electric. The air is thick with a mix of perfume, sweat, and excitement; it’s intoxicating. You can hardly keep your feet on the ground as the music wraps around you, urging your body to sway and move. The heat from the packed dance floor envelops you, making your cheeks flush and your skin prickle with anticipation.

You lose yourself in the rhythm, laughing and dancing with your friends. Each beat sends shivers down your spine, and you feel alive, as if the worries of the day have been stripped away. You spin and twirl, your hair flying around you as everyone is lost in their own little world.

After an hour of dancing, Liz gestures towards the bar, and your group eagerly follows her lead, ready to replenish your drinks and fuel your night. The bar is bustling, with people ordering shots and cocktails, laughter echoing as drink orders are called out. Neon lights illuminate the area, and you spot a bartender skillfully shaking drinks, tossing bottles in the air like they’re mere toys.

As you line up behind Liz at the bar, Chae is busy scrolling through her phone, her fingers flicking over the screen. Suddenly, you gasp, your heart racing for a different reason.

“What?” Chae looks up at you, concern etched on her face.

“Jaemin texted meee!” you squeal, anxiety coiling in your stomach. “He’s asking what I’m doing. What do I sayyyy?”

Liz turns around, her expression shifting to one of playful indifference as she waves her hand dismissively. “Girl, just lie,” she rolls her eyes, clearly unfazed by the drama of texting your boyfriend while out.

You pause, biting your lip. Your fingers hovering over your keyboard as you contemplate what to say.

[10:23] what r u doing

[11:45] watching a movie whats up?

You’re about to tuck your phone back into your purse when it suddenly dings again.

[11:46] are you gonna be up? can I call?

Your stomach drops, and you feel a wave of panic wash over you. “Guys, he wants to call me,” you glance nervously at your phone.

“Girl, give me the phone!” Mia snatches it from your hands and types something quickly before handing it back.

[11:47] nah im about 2 go 2 sleep ttyl!

“MIA!” you yell, a mixture of frustration and disbelief in your voice.

“WHAT?!” she rolls her eyes.

“I don’t text like that! He’s going to know something’s up!” you groan, the last thing you wanted tonight was to get into it with him.

Looking back at your phone, you see you’ve been left on read. “Just ignore him,” Liz says, handing you a shot. “Drinks are here!” You force a smile, trying to shake off the anxiety while your mind races with thoughts of what he might be thinking.

You throw back another shot. Screw it, you’re already out; you might as well get turnt up and deal with Jaemin tomorrow. You make your way back to the dance floor, determined to forget about him for the night. Mia and Liz dance together, while you dance with Chae. You belt out the lyrics to the song, hyping each other up, and before you know it, you’re not even trying to push thoughts of Jaemin away—they’ve completely slipped your mind.

After a while, Chae motions to you, leaning down to shout above the music. “I need to use the bathroom!” she yells.

“Okay, I’ll go with you!” you reply, waving at Liz and Mia to catch their attention. You mouth "bathroom,” and they nod in understanding, giving you the thumbs up as you weave through the crowd. Following Chae into the stall, you pull out your phone and check for messages as she takes care of business.

[12:00] Baby, are you alright?

[12:30] Wya?

You groan, and Chae looks up at you as she flushes the toilet. You exit the stall and set your phone down to wash your hands, Chae doing the same beside you.

“He’s texting again?” she asks with a teasing smile.

You dry your hands, grabbing your phone as you think about how to respond on your way out of the bathroom.

“Yeah,” you manage to say, letting the words hang in the air as you step back out onto the loud dance floor. You bump into a few people, too distracted by your phone screen to pay attention to where you’re going as you try to formulate a response.

[12:40] I’m at home, about to lay down though. Im really tired gn.

You hesitate hitting send, wondering if you’re being too dismissive or if he’ll just worry more. But you’re too overwhelmed to care right now—after all, the music is pulsing, and the night is still young.

You hit send, and the message is instantly marked as read. You see the three dots appear, indicating that he’s typing.

…

Pause

…

[12:41] Turn around.

You suck in a breath and freeze. Your friends notice your sudden stillness, concern flickering across their faces as their eyes trail up behind you, mouths dropping open in surprise.

“Go, go, go!” Liz yells at Mia and Chae, pushing them through the crowd to give you some space, leaving you to face Jaemin alone.

You brace yourself and turn around slowly. Just as you suspected, Jaemin stands towering over you in the packed club. “Heeyy,” you coo, attempting to lighten the tension.

He doesn’t look amused. In fact, he looks like he just rolled out of bed, tousled hair and all.

“I thought you were at the house?” he asks, tilting his head with heavy sarcasm.

“Damn, I forgot… I forgot I was at the club and not at home,” you say with a nervous smile, trying to play it off.

“So you think this is a game?” He nods his head, and a humorless laugh escapes his lips. "That's fine but go say bye to your little friends.”

You curse under your breath and turn away from him. Spotting Mia, Chae, and Liz watching the encounter from a few feet away, you push through the crowd, ready to let them have it.

“This is all your fault!” You swat at them, frustration bubbling over.

“Ow!” Mia cries as you slap her arm, feigning injury. Chae and Liz are laughing as you hit them next.

“Your ass is grass next time I see y’all,” you glare at them, eyes narrowing as you try to hold back laughter despite the absurdity of the situation.

With one last look at your friends, you turn back toward Jaemin, who’s still standing in the same spot, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face.

As you approach, he leans down slightly so only you can hear, his voice low, “Just wait until we get home.”

A shiver runs down your spine, equal parts excitement and dread. You frown but nod your head, knowing you were going to be in so much trouble. Jaemin pulls you along until you're outside, opening the passenger side door for you. Once you’re settled inside, he reaches over and buckles you in, a gesture that feels oddly affectionate amidst the tension. He shuts the door and walks around to the driver’s side, the silence stretching between you as he grips the steering wheel tightly. You can see his knuckles turning white, a clear indication that he’s still upset.

The ride home is uneventful, your mind racing with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. You finally arrive at your apartment, and before you can say anything, he gets out and slams the car door shut. He strides over to your side and opens the door, grabbing your purse as he helps you out.

“Jaem, we just wanted a girls' night out! I’m sorry; don’t be mad,” you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible as you follow him up the steps to your apartment.

He doesn’t respond, and you roll your eyes, watching him dig in the bottom of your bag for your keys. He finds them and unlocks the door with a swift motion.

You step inside, almost relieved to be back in the familiarity of your home. But just as you’re about to take off your heels, he stops you with a firm tone. “Nuh uh, heels stay on, baby. Bedroom. Now.”

“But I said I’m sorry,” you whine, knowing full well what that tone means. You’re not sure if you’re ready for whatever punishment he has in store.

“Do I look like I’m messing around? Do I look like I won’t punish you?” He replies, his voice low and serious.

Feeling a rush of apprehension, you straighten up and tread towards the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as you wait for him. You can hear him close the door behind him before he stands between your legs, towering over you. You look up at him, giving your best puppy dog eyes, hoping to soften his mood a little.

Jaemin’s expression is still firm. “You think that’s gonna work on me?” he asks, lowering his voice even further. He grips your cheeks and holds your gaze. “You know liars get punished, right?” he asks and you nod your head.

“Do you deserve to get punished tonight?” He watches you and you nod your head again, your eyes beginning to water under the weight of his words.

“Don’t start crying now, baby. I haven’t even touched you yet,” he says, his tone laced with a mix of teasing and seriousness as he leans down to kiss the tears that have stained your cheeks.

He releases your face, pulling you to your feet before taking your place on the bed. “Bend over,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Your heart races as you comply, laying across his lap with your short dress riding up to expose your bare bottom. It’s just a thong underneath, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

“When I asked you where you were, what did you say?” He asks, punctuating his words with a sharp slap to your ass.

“Home,” you sniffle, the sting of his hand making you wince.

“Where were you instead?” He smacks the other cheek, the sharpness sending a rush of heat coursing through you.

“At the club,” you whimper, the reality of the situation hitting you hard.

“Why don’t I like you going alone?” He asks, his voice steady but firm, leaving you to ponder your previous choices.

“But I wasn’t alone, my fri—” you start to explain, but he interrupts you with a quick series of three sharp smacks against your ass, each one leaving a burning sensation that contrasts with the fluttering excitement in your stomach.

“Don’t fucking talk back,” he growls, pulling your hair back gently but firmly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. “Do I need to put that mouth to better use? Huh?”

“No, Nana,” you manage to reply, the nickname slipping out instinctively, a soft plea.

“That’s what I thought. Now answer my question,” he commands, his voice low and authoritative.

“Because it’s dangerous to go alone,” you respond quickly.

“Now count,” he instructs

He strikes you twenty times, ten on each cheek. He soothes your skin between hits, a stark contrast to the sharp sting. You count every single one.

“That’s my good girl. You knew better than that, yeah?” he says, his voice dripping with approval.

“Yes, sir,” you nod.

Once he’s satisfied, he helps you to your feet and instructs you to get in the bed. You sit awkwardly, the fabric of the sheets tangling with your heels, but you comply without hesitation. Jaemin remains at the foot of the bed, and you can’t help but watch as he strips himself down. Your breath catches in your throat as he strokes himself, his other hand gliding down his chest. You feel an intense desire to reach out, to bite into the skin of his pecs and to mark him as yours.

“Please, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise,” you plead, your voice soft, desperation lacing your words. You knew he wasn’t done punishing you.

“Turn over, hands behind your back,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

You pout at the prospect of him taking you from behind. You loved watching him fuck you; you loved the intimacy of Missonary even though you loved the fact you could feel him in your guts when he hit it from the back. Even so, you do as you are told and you feel the mattress dip from his weight. Once he gets his hands on you, he's unzipping your dress and pulling it off. He undresses you until your just in your thong and high heels. His eyes rake over your body before he lets out a needy groan. He pulls your thong to the side and lines himself up with your entrance before he pushes in. You moan at the stretch and he uses one hand to hold your hands behind your back as the other tangles in your hair. Your makeup is sure to have smeared against the sheets as he pushes your head into the mattress as he fucks you.

“Do you know what happens when you misbehave?” He asks you. “You get fucked like a slut”

His hips drive into you again and again. He was deep and you loved every second of it. The way his hips slammed into you had your eyes rolling and thighs clenching. When you try to close your legs, he uses his knee to kick them back open. You wanted to touch him or atleast dig your fingers into the covers to hold on to something as he fucks some sense into you. You could feel how upset he was; he hated arguing and yelling; he was the type to fuck and make up; take out any frustrations on your greedy cunt and talk after.

You loved it

He lets go of your arms and pushes your back down into a deeper arc and you can finally grip the sheets. You could feel your thighs tremble and each time they slipped down the mattress or your legs threatened to give out, Jaemin was gripping your hips and pulling you up again to meet his thrusts.

His grunts turn to moans and they grow in pitch and you can tell he's at his limit. Usually at times like this he would slow down his pace to last longer or rub your clit to get you there but today you were his to use.

“Bad girls don't get to cum,” he says breathlessly.

After a few more deep thrusts, he's pulling out of you and coming all over your back. You look over your shoulder at him, makeup smeared and cheeks tear-stained. He coos and laughs at you as he leans down to kiss your lips.

“Stay right here; I'll be right back,” he says before leaving another kiss against your cheek.

He steps into the bathroom and emerges with a warm wet towel. As he gently cleans you up and removes your makeup with soft wipes, he works deftly to slip off the high heels that have been pinching your feet. Once he’s finished, he pulls you close, wrapping an arm around you as you nestle against him. He starts to play with your fingers,

“I didn’t mean to lie to you. You know I would never hurt you, right?” you say, searching his eyes for a sign that he understands the gravity of your words. Your heart races, hoping he can see just how honest you’re being.

“Well, let’s talk about it in the morning, okay, baby?” He replies, his voice warm and soothing.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too,” he responds.

As his embrace fosters a sense of safety, your worries begin to melt away. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you find comfort in the rhythm of his breathing before drifting into sleep.

#jaemin smut #jaemin fanfic #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fic #jaemin x reader #jaemin imagines #jaemin hard hours #jaemin hard thoughts #nct dream smut #nct dream x you #nct dream imagines #nct dream fanfic #nct dream hard hours

311 notes · View notes

suns-pott · 10 months ago

Text

Leona and Malleus Mayhem! - Self Aware!Yandere!Leona and Malleus x reader

A short drabble inspired by Yuri and Natsuki's fight in ddlc hehe

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

You logged in to Twisted Wonderland as usual, deciding to reread Malleus's Ceremonial Robes vignette. Everything was going well until Leona and Malleus's argument as the scene transitioned to Malleus's groovy CG.

Leona: ...You thinkin' you're gonna get it next time? Well, sorry to break it to you, but no one's ever gonna invite you. The player's never gonna want to see you in those robes again, so just put 'em away for good already.

Malleus: ...... Have you finished being catty? Wild beasts certainly like the sound of their own howling. And they like seeing me in these too, you know. They've even added me as their home character in these robes.

That's odd... The dialogue is different. Why are they referring to you as the 'player' now?

Leona: Oh? I didn't realise you were so focused on trying to impress them, lizard.

The scene transitioned back to the Diasomnia lounge; Leona looked smug, and Malleus looked surprised, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Malleus: Eh? That's not...

Malleus closed his eyes and uncrossed his arms, opening them again to a neutral expression.

Malleus: Maybe you're just jealous that they appreciate my appearance in my ceremonial robes more than they appreciated yours.

Malleus looked smug once again, grinning with a hand placed on his hip. Leona suddenly looked angry, his ears twitching in annoyance.

Leona: Huh?! And how do you know that they didn't appreciate my ceremonial robes more? Are you that full of yourself?

Malleus: ...If I was full of myself, I would deliberately go out of my way to take naps around campus and act abrasive towards everyone!

They both seemed to be getting heated now, Malleus had lost any trace of amusement as he looked angry.

Leona: Tch, well, you know what? I wasn't the one that magically grew 5 centimeters bigger as soon as the player started showing up!

Malleus looked shocked now, the accusation was completely unexpected for him, and for you too.

Malleus: Kingscholar...!

Lilia's sprite suddenly moved into frame, his hands on his hips as he had a neutral expression, clearly wanting to break up the fight.

Lilia: You two, this is-

He was cut off by Malleus and Leona speaking in unison, Lilia's textbox moving forward without you tapping the screen to continue at all. In fact, no attempt to reach the menu or skip past was effective, now you were locked in this interaction.

Leona & Malleus: This doesn't involve you!

Malleus: Taking out your own insecurities on others like this, you really act as young as your age, Kingscholar.

Leona: Me? Look who's talking you wannabe edgy bastard.

The screen glitched, the edges of the screen darkened and tv static played over everything for a moment, before disappearing in an instant, both characters looked absolutely enraged.

Malleus: Edgy? Apologies that my natural charisma is too much for someone of your mental age to comprehend!

Leona: See? Just saying that proves my point! Most people learn to get over themselves once they move on from Freshman year, you know.

Malleus: If you want to prove anything, then stop harassing others with your sickeningly obnoxious attitude! Do you think you can counterbalance your toxic personality just by dressing and acting favorably to the player?

The background was slowly starting to fizzle out as the static returned, the character sprites and the textbox were the only things unobscured.

Leona: Whoa, be careful or you might cut yourself on that edge, Draconia.

Malleus seemed to be much more riled up now, and Leona looked smug once again.

Leona: Oh, my bad, you already do, don't you?

Malleus: D-Did you just accuse me of cutting myself? What the fuck is wrong with your head?!

That's new... None of the characters have cursed in the game before, and now that the vignette has gone off the rails, anything could happen. Your screen continued to glitch, everything around Malleus and Leona was getting fuzzy with more static, only their sprites and the textbox was able to be seen.

Leona: Yeah, go on! Let them hear everything you really think! I'm sure they'll be head over heels for you after this!

Malleus looked surprised again, now seeming to actually acknowledge you now.

Malleus: (Y/N)...? He's just trying to make me look bad...

He now addressed you by name, well the name that you put into the game for the protagonist anyways. His tone was strangely meek, unlike that of his usual character, his formal way of speaking has disappeared, now focused on defending himself to you, until Leona cut in again, also addressing you more directly.

Leona: That's not true! He started it!

The screen glitched again, two boxes appeared in front of the characters, one read 'Malleus' and the other read 'Leona', one on top of the other as you now had a choice to make.

Which will you choose?

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #x reader #leona kingscholar #yandere leona kingscholar #malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia #self aware au #self aware twst #self aware twisted wonderland #yandere x reader

838 notes · View notes

mikkomacko · 7 months ago

Note

a request for mob boss Nico, is there ever a time where the boys call y/n for help because they trusted her and didn’t want to upset Nico?

Oh definitely it happens all the time. They use her to soften up blows to Nico when they mess up or help clean them up if things get out of hand.

The first time they realized they could call her though was when her baby Holtzy needed help

——————————————————————

Alex Holtz joined the Devs after he got into legal trouble back home and reached out to Jesper for help. He had been disowned by his family and was living on the streets, and he made a mistake that was gonna haunt him forever now that he was aging out of being a juvenile. So Nico and Jesper brought him in, sent out the private jet and moved him to Jersey where he moved into a loft with the Hughes boys.

Bad idea off the bat but they’re all young and Nico thought they’d click (They do, a little too well).

Late on a Friday, you and Nico were sprawled out on the living room floor with piles of Lego pieces between you. You were racing to see who could build their set the fastest, not that it mattered because there was no real prize, but you two loved the competition.

Nico was finishing up one of the succulents on his set when a ringing phone interrupted the romcom you’d put on the background. Assuming it was work phone based on the hour, you went about your business until Nico fumbled with his silent phone and looked at you in confusion.

“S’yours baby.” He catches your attention, and you look over to the coffee table where you left your phone. Sure enough it’s vibrating across the glass, the screen lit up with Alex’s name.

Quickly, you grab the phone and slide to answer.

“Hi Holtzy, you ok?”

Immediately you know something is wrong. You can hear it in his breath, how it shakes and quivers. And you can hear the frantic voices in the background, whatever boys he went out with tonight obviously panicking.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s the matter?”

By now Nico is on his knees, watching you with concern. You can tell he’s ready to jump up and run, to fix whatever is going on. But Alex didn’t call him, he called you.

“I-something happened,” his voice is small and weak through the speaker and it makes your chest ache. “I didn’t mean to, I just-“

He’s cut off by a sob, one so shattering you can feel it in your own chest. “Ok, it’s ok. You wanna tell me where you are? I’m gonna come get you, ok?”

“Nico will be mad, he won’t want you here. I shouldn’t have-“

“Alex, he doesn’t care. We care about you, kid. Tell me where you are and I’m gonna fix it, ok?”

And Alex has always been good at responding to authoritative tones, better than any of the other boys that are his age. But he’s let down a lot of grown up’s in his life and you know how scared he is to do that to you and Nico.

He mumbles out an address not too far from the loft, telling you he’s in the lot out back with Jack and Luke.

“Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

Alex sniffles, chokes back another cry. “No, no drive safely. I can be ok.”

“I’ll be there in ten, don’t move and don’t touch anything ok? Unless someone’s gonna hurt you, you stay put.”

Mumbling his agreement, you tell him you’ll see him soon and hang up. Nico, having picked up on the conversation, has already collected the keys to the Range Rover and his gun, his feet tucked into his shoes.

“Where are we going?” He asks you and you pull on a jacket and shoes. Taking the pocketknife he holds out to you, you tuck into your pants.

“I’ll give directions.”

~~~~

Whatever Alex and the Hughes boys had been doing, they ended up outside an abandoned factory in a lot that is closed off.

Not that it stopped them seeing as the gate has been pried open and Nico is able to drive into the gravel covered lot.

You can see the Hughes boys kneeling over something on the sidewalk, barely illuminated by the street light. Alex is sitting a few feet away, curled into himself against the brick wall of the building. Before Nico can even stop the car, you’re jumping out.

Whatever scold Nico shouts after you is lost.

Jack and Luke look up at you helplessly when you jog up to them, panic stricken in the poor light. It only takes you a second to see why.

There’s a man under them, one that’s strangling out breathes and covered in blood. He doesn’t appear to be awake, but you realize the two brothers are both pressing their hands into the wound on his abdomen.

“Oh fuck,” you mumble, crouching down to feel for the man’s pulse. It’s weak, but it’s there so you rise again, wipe the blood on your finger onto your pants.

“Keep holding, I’ll be right back.”

Jack and Luke call after you but you don’t hear them. You’re too busy approaching Alex, sinking down to your knees in front of him. He doesn’t lift his head out of his hands until you gently touch his knees.

The sight of him almost has you in tears. His eyes are red and puffy, cheeks splotchy from crying and he’s matted his hair with the blood that was on his hands.

Somehow, he looks even younger than he actually is.

“Alex, are you ok? Are you bleeding?”

He shakes his head, a fresh set of tears streaming down his face. “I don’t know what happened, one minute we were joking around and then he was talking shit and shoving Luke and I-“

“You did what you had to,” you assure him, reaching for his hands. “You were protecting family, Alex and that’s what we do.”

You stroke over his knuckles, nod along as he tells you about how he just went blank, he was so angry he couldn’t even see anything and then the man was bleeding and they didn’t know what to do.

So Jack dragged him into the empty lot and told him to call Nico. He couldn’t though, he couldn’t let Nico know that he messed up so badly already.

You wait for him to finish talking, push his hair off his forehead. “It’s ok, it’s ok,” you assure him. “You did exactly what you were supposed to. You were smart and you were quick, and you protected Luke.”

“Nico told us to protect you,” he mumbles sadly “I shouldn’t have brought you into this but he’s so scary sometimes. What if he sends me back?”

You squeeze his fingers, make him look at you. “Holtzy, you’re a Dev.” You say firmly, “Nico knows what that means, we all know what that means. You’re here, you’re with us no matter what. And if you think me being here is putting me in danger, you’re wrong. It’s my job to protect all of you.”

Finally he relaxes, shaking as you rise and help him to his feet. You cup his face, wipe away the tear tracks on his face before pulling him down into a hug. He squeezes you back, grateful.

“Go to the car, there’s clothes in the back.” You instruct, nudging him towards the parked vehicle. “Ignore Nico, he’s just a driver tonight, ok?”

You can see the reluctance in his eyes but he nods anyway and drags his feet to the car. Taking a deep breath, you join Jack and Luke again, and Nico who’s now crouched down with them.

“He ok?” Nico asks you, glancing towards Alex. You nod, rolling up the sleeves of your hoodie. Accepting the answer, Nico hands you the med kit he’d brought out from the car.

“Didn’t know the plan,” he tells you “you gonna fix him or are we leaving?”

Jack and Luke look between the two of you, and then at each other. They’re obviously thrown by Nico’s behavior, and it’s then that you realize this is the first time one of them has called you in crisis.

“Fix him,” you decide, flipping open the large box and digging out everything you’ll need to clean him up and stitch him. “And when he wakes up, you’ll make sure he forgets everything.”

Nico’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised and impressed with your answer. “Yeah?”

You nod, pulling on some gloves. “But make sure he knows that if he ever touches Luke or even thinks about Alex, I’ll personally be undoing all the hard work I did on him tonight.”

You don’t miss the smile that rises on your boyfriend’s face, how his eyes crinkle and dimples sink into his cheeks. “Sure thing, boss.” He agrees, moving around you so he can pull your hair back for you and tie it up.

Pressing a kiss to your head, he rises to his feet and moves towards Alex and the car.

“Nico,” you stop him, and he turns to look at you. “He’s shaken and he’s sorry. Be a friend.”

Biting back another grin, he nods. “And clear out the backseat, these three are coming back with us.”

He nods and turns on his heel, doing as told. Certain that he’ll listen to you, you get to work on fixing up the man below you. And you swell with pride when Jack and Luke follow your lead like obedient soldiers.

#him and i #him and i asks #mob boss nico hischier #nico hischier #requested #him and i chats

204 notes · View notes

doeeyeseddie · 9 days ago

Note

Piaaaaaa "brushing their arm against the other's, hoping the other would finally catch their arm and hold it close" please, we already know they constantly brush arms anyway!

fridaaaa this took me, once again, many months to get to and i sort of only vaguely filled the actual prompt, but i hope you still enjoy it <3

5+1 things, rated t, wc: 4k

[read on ao3]

Eddie’s first day as a probationary firefighter is…interesting. Captain Nash welcomes him with the same warm smile he gave him the first time they talked, then leads him inside and shows him around the app bay.

“We’ll give you the full tour later,” he promises, “after you’ve met the rest of the team. You’re the first one here, if you want, you can change into your uniform now.”

He points towards the locker room – which has glass walls for some reason – and Eddie nods.

He’s just finished buttoning up his shirt when Captain Nash ushers a group of firefighters inside. Eddie runs a hand through his hair to make sure it’s tidy and smiles as Hen and Chimney introduce themselves to him with warm smiles and handshakes, welcoming him to the team.

There’s a third person with them, hovering in the background and glowering at Eddie. He’s young, probably around Eddie’s age, tall and very built, and despite his hostile expression, he doesn’t give Eddie the impression of being an asshole. It’s like the expression doesn’t fit on his face, like he’s not used to wearing it.

Chim grabs him by the arm and pushes him forward, giving Eddie a commiserating smile.

“And this guy is Buck,” he says. “He was our probie before you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie says politely, stretching a hand out to offer a handshake. “You’ll have to show me how things work around here, then.”

Buck glowers down at his hand, and when he finally grabs it, he squeezes it too tightly, like he’s trying to prove something. Eddie squeezes back, amused by the pretense this guy is clearly putting on.

Behind Buck’s back, Hen rolls her eyes, but she’s also wearing a fond look, which only confirms Eddie’s assumption that Buck isn’t half as bad as he’s pretending to be.

From Captain Nash, he knows that they’re supposed to work together a lot of the time, so that’s gonna be interesting. He doesn’t know why Buck is acting like this, but he’s gonna find out, and then he’s gonna figure out a way to work with Buck anyway.

He didn’t come here to make friends, but he’ll be spending 50 hours a week with these people, and he has to trust them with his life for a lot of that time, so they at the very least need to bury whatever hatchet Buck is carrying right now.

Eddie lets go of his hand with a nod and a polite smile, and gives himself a week to figure Buck out.

II.

The days between the accident and the funeral are kind of a blur.

There’s too much to do and think about, too many decisions to make, too many people to call, too much to organize. He has help – Abuela, Pepa, the entire 118, but it still feels too much.

Shannon was 27, she didn’t have a will, they never talked about any of this. How is Eddie supposed to know how she would like to be buried, or if she’d rather be cremated? What kind of music she would want them to play at her funeral? This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not for a very, very long time.

But it did happen, and now Eddie is somehow supposed to know all this about her, his wife, the woman he’s only just let back into his and Christopher’s lives, the woman who asked him for a divorce and completely pulled the rug from under his feet just a day before she died.

Sometimes, he feels like he didn’t know her at all.

His parents are here “to help”, which should be a relief but really isn’t. They never liked Shannon and aren’t making a secret of it, even now that– now that she’s gone. So Eddie can’t involve them in the funeral planning, and he can’t even leave Christopher with them because he’s scared that they’re gonna take the opportunity to grab him and run, and someone needs to make sure that Shannon’s memory is honored, but she didn’t have any family except him and Christopher, and Chris is seven, so Eddie has to be the one to make this funeral beautiful, something she’d deserve, but he doesn’t know– there’s so much–

“Eddie,” someone says next to him, snapping him out of his spiral. “Come on, breathe with me.”

Eddie stares at Buck’s chest as it rises and falls with exaggerated breaths, trying to match him. When did Buck get here? He doesn’t remember letting him in, doesn’t really remember what he was doing before he started hyperventilating on his couch.

“Chris,” he gasps when he realizes that also means he’s not sure where his kid is. And of course he’s the kind of father who would do that only days after his kid lost his mom, maybe his parents are–

“Is with Hen and Karen,” Buck says firmly, grabbing his forearm. “He’s gonna spend the day with them and Denny, probably getting spoiled rotten. I borrowed Pepa’s key when we went over there so they could pick him up, she told me you might not open – sorry for barging in here, but I’m glad I did. I know you– I wanted to– Bobby and Athena are running interference with your parents. And I’m here to help you with all that.” He gestures towards the couch table that’s covered in forms, leaflets from funeral homes, and cards from grief counselors. “After Abby’s mom– I helped plan her funeral. So I’ve got some experience.”

Eddie just stares at him, biting the inside of his cheek hard to stop himself from crying. He trusts Buck, but he still doesn’t want to cry in front of him, doesn’t want to cry in front of anyone. But he does think that maybe he should give Buck his own copy of a key, so he won’t have to borrow Pepa’s next time.

Buck squeezes his forearm and gives him a small, sad smile. “We’re all here for you, Eddie. I got your back, remember?”

Eddie blinks against the tears in his eyes and swallows around the lump in his throat that’s keeping him from saying anything.

Instead, he twists his arm from Buck’s grip and grabs his hand instead, squeezing it in a silent thank you.

Buck squeezes back and keeps holding on.

III.

Buck gets to go home earlier than anyone expected, but Eddie has been to his new apartment, so he isn’t surprised when Buck texts him a picture of his couch with a sad face. It’s not ideal, but at least he has a bathroom downstairs and a girlfriend who can help if he struggles with anything.

Until he doesn’t have that girlfriend anymore.

Eddie doesn’t find out until after his shield ceremony, days after, actually, once his parents have finally gone home to Texas.

Buck says he’s fine, obviously, but Eddie starts going over every day he doesn’t have a shift anyway, because he knows Buck and can see how much he’s struggling with the whole situation, with the uncertainty of when and how he can return to work.

He brings Christopher most of the time. They’re not having the best summer either, Eddie still worries that he’s not doing enough to help Christopher deal with his grief, when he can barely keep his own head above the water of grief, guilt and fear.

Carla is doing what she can, watching Christopher whenever Eddie’s working, she found him a grief counselor and is even looking into more permanent therapists.

None of it changes the fact that they’re grieving.

But when Christopher gets to hang out with Buck, he lights up every time, and so does Buck, which makes this a two birds with one stone kind of situation. Hanging out with Buck helps them both, too, makes their grief not the first thing on their minds for a little while.

Buck can’t move much, so they play board games and try to find one they all enjoy equally – it’s not easy, since Eddie likes luck-based games (he plays poker with his abuela and tía whenever he can), Buck prefers trivia and games relying on knowledge, while Christopher likes strategic games most.

But everyone gets to pick sometimes, and when they don’t want to play board games, they switch to video games instead.

Eddie knew that Buck and Chris get along well, they have ever since the first time they met, when Buck drove Eddie to Chris’ school after the earthquake during Eddie’s second week at the 118. But with how much time the three of them are spending together now, he can see them growing closer every day – and he loves it.

Buck is his best friend, and he genuinely cares about Christopher in a way that feels completely independent from Eddie.

One evening, while they’re playing a few rounds of Christopher’s current favorite video game after dinner, the kid falls asleep between them on the couch.

Buck smiles down at him and lowers the volume of the TV, which means he loses even more clearly to Eddie, but he had the win in the bag anyway, he’s sure.

Buck rolls his eyes at him when Eddie celebrates his victory with big, silent gestures, but he’s smiling, too.

Eddie grins at him, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind Chris, and Buck twists a little to face him. His leg, resting outstretched on the couch table in front of them, moves with him, and Eddie slides Christopher’s glass of water out of the way in a practiced move.

“I know you’re here to keep an eye on me,” Buck says, “and I should probably be annoyed. I– I was kind of annoyed, at first. But it’s hard to stay annoyed when he’s here, right?” He nods down at Christopher. “And I guess you’re okay, too.”

“Wow, thanks,” Eddie says, but he knows his glare isn’t convincing. “To be clear, we’re all keeping an eye on each other.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Buck reaches for Eddie’s hand, still on the backrest between them, and squeezes it – just for a moment, like he’s trying to get Eddie’s attention, like he doesn’t already have it anyway. “Thanks.”

IV.

Everything sucks.

It’s the uncertainty that gets to Eddie most, the not knowing how to help, how to stay safe, how to keep his loved ones safe. How long this is gonna last.

Every day, they have to see people die from a virus they know nothing about, and can’t do anything against.

And afterwards, they can’t even go home.

Christopher is part of a high risk group, and Eddie risks exposure at work every day, so obviously, he can’t endanger him by living with him. Chimney feels the same way about Maddie, and Hen also wants to keep her family safe, which is how the three of them ended up at Buck’s apartment, where they’ve been camped out for the past three weeks.

It’s generous of Buck to let them all stay with him, but the loft is not made for four people to live there, and they’re all feeling it.

Eddie loves his friends, but spending every minute of every day with them is starting to wear on him. They all try to give each other space, using the balcony as an extra room or going for runs outside, but there’s only so much they can do.

He hates being separated from Chris, it makes him feel like he’s breaking his promise to never leave him behind again. Christopher says he understands, but Eddie worries anyway. He trusts Pepa, who’s working fully remote and offered to stay with Chris, and they talk every day, but it’s not the same as being there.

Whenever he talks to Chris on the phone, he feels better in the moment, but worse the second they hang up. While they’re talking, he can almost pretend that things are normal, but it all comes crashing down afterwards.

He hasn’t hugged his son in weeks, and he has no idea when he’s even gonna see him in person again.

Buck joins their calls most of the time, at least for a few minutes, and he sits next to Eddie on the bed now, shoulders slumped where they’re touching Eddie’s. In a world where he has to keep his distance from almost everyone, except the patients he’s treating and the people he’s living with, touching and being touched by Buck is a real comfort.

“This won’t be forever, Eddie,” he says, almost desperately.

“But for how long?” Eddie asks, and it comes out sounding a little wobbly.

He’s not embarrassed by it anymore – Buck’s seen him in all kinds of situations, and they’re currently sharing a bed, so he’s seen him cry anyway.

“I–I wish I knew,” Buck says. “I wish I could– fix this.”

Eddie wipes at his eye and laughs a little. “The whole pandemic?”

“If I could, yeah.” Buck shrugs.

Eddie presses even closer to him for a moment, a gentle pressure of their shoulders, arms and thighs against each other. “I wish you could, too. But even if you can’t – I’m glad you’re here.”

“Of course.” Buck smiles at him and places his hand on Eddie’s thigh, palm up.

Eddie smiles back and grabs his hand, squeezing tightly.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I think it’s our turn to make dinner tonight – you ready?”

“Ready when you are,” Buck says, but he doesn’t let go until Eddie does.

After Chris has gone to sleep, after Eddie has finally stopped crying, after Buck has wrapped his knuckles and cleaned up the worst of the mess in Eddie’s bedroom – the shards, the pieces of drywall, the fallen furniture, he makes up the couch for Eddie to sleep on. Eddie wants to help him, to tell him that he’ll just sleep in his room, but he can’t seem to move from his seat at the dining table.

Everything feels like too much, his hands hurt and his head worse, and he can’t stand the thought of Buck leaving. He’s exhausted, but he knows he won’t sleep if Buck goes home now.

But he can’t ask him to stay, not after Buck already dropped everything because Eddie couldn’t keep it together. He probably had plans, and Eddie ruined those too.

He can already feel the hot burn of tears behind his eyes again and drops his forehead onto his arms, folded on the table in front of him.

Buck’s hand lands on his back, warm, then travels up to squeeze the back of his neck gently.

“You ready to sleep?” he murmurs, and Eddie makes a noncommittal sound. “Come on, you must be exhausted.”

Eddie shrugs and Buck’s thumb brushes along his hairline.

“You don’t have to go in there, I can get you anything you need,” Buck says quietly. “And I’ll be right next to you in case you have a nightmare.”

“You’re staying?” Eddie asks, lifting his head. Buck’s hand stays where it is.

“Of course, Eddie,” Buck says, like it’s that easy.

And maybe it is that easy, Eddie thinks when they settle in next to each other in the living room, Eddie on the couch and Buck on a makeshift bed next to it. He’s pushed the couch table to the side to make room for it and it looks like he’s dragged Eddie’s mattress here, so at least Eddie doesn’t need to worry about him sleeping on the floor.

They’ve been by each other’s side through so much shit, maybe it’s not such a surprise that Buck wants to be here now too. He’s just not sure he deserves it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, staring up at the ceiling instead of looking at Buck. “You had plans– I’m sure you didn’t want to–”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Buck says firmly. “Of course I’ll come whenever Christopher calls. O–or if you need me. I’m here, okay?”

“I keep thinking about her,” Eddie mumbles, pressing the heels of his hands to his burning eyes. “Mills. Last August– I should’ve– if I’d picked up the phone earlier–”

“This isn’t on you.” There’s rustling and then Buck is gripping Eddie’s forearms, trying to gently pull his hands away from his face. “I d-don’t know what Mills was going through, but I know that you couldn’t have known how bad it was. It’s sad, and it’s unfair, but it’s not your fault. And I know you’re feeling all these things now, but Eddie– I’m so happy you’re still here. I need you to– know that. Okay?”

Eddie finally lowers his arms, but instead of letting go fully, Buck just grabs his right hand and holds on. His eyes are wide and scared, and Eddie has scared too many people he loves tonight.

“Okay,” he says, even though– well. What makes him special? Why should he be the only one to get out? He’s not a better person than any of them, he doesn’t have a right to happiness or whatever he’s been deluding himself into believing he could have.

But he knows that he can’t tell Buck that now (or ever), knows that it’s a dark road to go down.

Maybe for tonight, with Buck by his side, he can keep the thoughts at bay for a little bit longer. After that– he has no idea. But Buck is still holding his hand, and Eddie may not deserve him, but he trusts him.

He thinks it may just give him enough hope to get through this night.

+ I

“This was nice,” Buck says, holding the door for Eddie as they leave the restaurant. “You, uh, you really didn’t have to pay, though.”

“I wanted to,” Eddie says with a smile, glancing right towards their cars and then left to where the beach is only a short walk away, and finally back to Buck’s face, finding him already looking back. “How do you feel about taking a walk?”

Buck grins, turning left. “Let’s go.”

They’re not on a date, or at least they haven’t called it that, but Eddie has been thinking that it feels like one all night. Technically, they’re two friends trying out a new restaurant together. They drove here separately, no one pulled anyone’s chair out, they talked the same way they always do.

But Eddie spent half an hour picking something to wear tonight, Buck is wearing a shirt that looks new and gorgeous and fit for a date, and every time their eyes caught across the table, Eddie thought that maybe, Buck wouldn’t pull away if he reached out and took his hand.

It’s not the first time Eddie has thought that. Ever since Buck and Tommy broke up, it’s felt like maybe they’re heading towards something, familiar touches lingering and turning into something new, gazes catching and then holding instead of looking away.

Buck was upset for a little while afterwards, but he admitted to Eddie that it was more about another failed relationship – and his first one with a man, after he thought he’d finally figured out what was missing, than about Tommy as a person.

He went on a couple of dates, with men and women, but nothing ever stuck.

Eddie was going through his own stuff at the time – he eventually came out to Buck a week before Chris finally came home, and Buck hasn’t been on a date since.

Sometimes, Eddie wonders (hopes), if the two things are related.

Still, neither of them has called tonight a date – yet.

Eddie glances at Buck’s profile while they’re walking, and wonders what he’s waiting for.

Yes, it’s scary because Buck is the most important person in his life right after Christopher, but it’s also not, because this is Buck. Who has been by Eddie’s side through the worst, most painful, most humiliating times of his life, and is still here. Buck, who Eddie trusts with his life, and his son, and his heart.

Buck smiles at him and Eddie smiles back, heartbeat picking up. He’s doing this, he’s gonna tell Buck how he feels. Any minute now, he’s gonna be brave enough.

“Hey,” Buck says, “it’s just me.”

“I know,” Eddie says, and his heart thumps against his ribs. He lets his fingers brush against Buck’s on their next swing and watches as Buck bites his lip, smiling down at the ground. Hushed, like a confession, he adds, “Are you nervous, too?”

Buck looks back up at him then, eyes glittering in the dark. “Y-yeah. I am.”

They’ve reached the edge of the beach by now and bend down to take off their shoes without having to talk about it.

When they start walking again, they’re even closer than before, the backs of their hands, their elbows and shoulders all brushing with every step.

Eddie keeps stealing glances at Buck, and almost every time, Buck is already looking back.

There aren’t many people at the beach at this time of day, so they don’t come close to anyone else, and all they hear is the sand beneath their feet and the waves crashing a few feet away. The moon is big enough to be reflected on the sea, a beautiful sight, but Eddie still can’t look away from Buck for long.

“So, this is, uh, kind of romantic,” Buck blurts out after a few quiet minutes. “Right? I–I’m not misreading that?”

“No,” Eddie says. “I mean– you’re not misreading it.”

“But you’re nervous.”

When their knuckles brush again, Eddie stretches out his fingers and catches Buck’s, holding on. Buck’s own fingers tighten immediately, and it gives Eddie the last bit of courage he needs.

“Well, yeah. Buck–” He stops walking, and Buck follows, turning so he’s facing Eddie. He’s close enough that Eddie can see his expression despite the dark, and he looks terrified, hopeful, nervous and excited at the same time, all of which Eddie feels, too. Eddie takes a deep breath. “I’m nervous because– nothing…no one’s ever been this important.”

A smile spreads out across Buck’s face, slowly deepening the crinkles around his eyes. “So this was a date?”

“Did it feel like one to you, too?”

Buck’s smile widens. “Yeah, i–it did. And I’m–I’m nervous too, of course. Eddie, if we do this, there’s no going back for me. I can’t– lose you. You and Christopher, you’re too important.”

He pulls on Eddie’s hand a little, and Eddie takes another step closer, drops his shoes in the sand and places his free hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb resting against his collarbone.

“It’s the same for me,” he says quietly. He shivers when Buck grabs his waist, the warmth of his hand seeping through Eddie’s shirt. “I– We don’t know what’s gonna happen. But, Buck– I love you. I love you so much, I have for…way longer than I was aware of it, and I just don’t see that going away. And I don’t think it’s fair to us to deny ourselves when I really think we could make each other– so happy. I know I can make you happy, and I want to prove it to you every day of my life, Buck.”

Buck is just staring at him with a dazed expression, his lips slightly parted, and Eddie suddenly can’t stand not kissing him for a second longer.

He slides his hand from Buck’s shoulder to the back of his neck, watches Buck’s eyes flutter shut and feels his fingers tighten on his waist, and then he’s finally, finally closing the distance between them.

Buck makes a soft sound against his mouth, like he’s still somehow surprised this is happening, but he gets on board very quickly, and Eddie stops thinking entirely.

When they pull back breathlessly, Eddie’s hair is a mess – he can feel the loose strands on his forehead – his lips are still tingling, and Buck’s got both arms wrapped around him tightly.

“In case that wasn’t clear,” Buck gasps, and lifts a hand to cup Eddie’s cheek. His thumb brushes over Eddie’s chin and caresses his lower lip, and Eddie presses a kiss to the pad of it. “I love you, too.”

#buddie #911 #buddie fic #911fic #pia writes #ask #leothil #frida tag

124 notes · View notes

kookslastbutton · 1 year ago

Text

enamored ༓ myg (m) | one

✑ Summary: Min Yoongi is nothing like what you imagined him to be when you saw him preform at the local cafe in town. Yet little by little he surprises you with his true self, until somehow you find yourself completely enamored with him.

pairing: new independent artist!yoongi x veterinarian!reader

genre/AU: fluff, angst, eventual smut, strangers2acquaintance2lovers, mini-series

word count: 4,643

Warnings: Nothing too heavy but oc is around 25, mention of unhealthy past relationships, yoon is a struggling artist, talk about social insecurity, cats, the rest of the fluff stuff is for you to find out haha

now playing: cold/mess

a/n: Due to me and my fellow Yoon enthusiasts missing myg, I bring us this three-part mini-series. I'm not sure how this will go but hope you enjoy! 🥰 Lowkey has me thinking of Yoongi pre-debut days.

Tonight’s the first night the local coffeehouse you and your friend, Nara, visit for weekly rant sessions is showcasing musicians of all backgrounds, statuses, and genres. And you are very much looking forward to the absolute cutie pictured in a fluffy sky-blue cardigan, a big gummy smile on, and undeniably soft, chocolate eyes.

His arms casually rest atop his guitar followed by the words ‘Agustd’ in scripted font underneath. You’ve never heard of him before but you’re convinced that he’ll play something light and uplifting given the aesthetic of his image displayed on the TV screen.

“God it’s packed like a football stadium here,” Nara interrupts your gaze on the tv from across the table. She sits with her hands folded on the wooden surface, a giant diamond sparkling on her left hand.

“You’re telling me,” you tsk. “I already came close to bumping into a middle-aged man with two lattes in his hands and a couple of college girls attempting to film a TikTok on our way in.”

It’s no exaggeration to say the cafe itself is swarming with new faces who are eager for a night of leisure while overworked baristas rush to fulfill orders. You have the innate instinct to offer them your help, though they’d likely advise it’s better for you to remain seated.

“Have you ever been to a football stadium though?” You ask more condescendingly than intended, but you find her analogy amusing since she’s never been one to pay attention to sports.

Nara rolls her eyes at your light probing. “No, but I’ve seen pictures. You know how big of a fan my Yunjun is of football. He’s gone to the United States to watch the super bowl eight times now.”

She says it proudly, but the reality is that her lovey Yunjun has not once invited her to go with him. Instead, he takes three of his closest friends and disappears to the other side of the world for two weeks. Everyone knows the super bowl only lasts one day so why the hell is he there for that long? Likely to get drunk with his buddies, that’s why.

“You know I don’t like him,” you say bluntly. “Why are you marrying him again?” Nara’s confident smile turns into a defensive scowl as she proceeds to tell you, once again, all the ways that Yunjun “completes her”.

On and on she continues for ten minutes straight until her voice slowly drowns out to the clapping and cheering of the crowd behind her. A young woman named Yuri just finished performing a few of her original songs and is thanking the audience for listening. You lightly clap along in politeness.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Nara pipes up once the crowd falls silent again. “Yunjun is extremely thoughtful. Yesterday he messaged me to meet for lunch without me having to ask first.”

“Uh huh…” you drawl out, eyes shifting between her and the distracting movements of bodies behind her. The young woman who just performed steps off the stage while a young man steps forward to take her place.

You struggle to keep eye contact with Nara as said man lazily slumps himself on the wooden stool at the front of the room and balances his acoustic guitar on his knee. He looks like he just rolled out of bed ten minutes ago; hair tousled about, a big black sweatshirt covering half his body, and possibly the most somber facial expression on.

Is that the same guy from the promo image? Agust something?

You lean your head to the side and past Nara’s head to get a better view.

It is him but he looks so starkly different from his photo on the TV screen. His mood is much more melancholy than you imagined, like Grumpy Bear from Care Bears.

It makes you wild with curiosity.

You find yourself placing a hand under your chin, intent on listening to his every word. By now, Nara's noticed your interest in the musician so she's stopped talking and pays attention to him as well.

“Hi, I’m Agustd and I'm an independent artist,” he introduces himself in a low voice, lips pressed to the microphone. His focus is set on the audience in front of him at first but then, as if feeling your heavy stare, he flicks his eyes directly into yours. "I'm also known as Min Yoongi."

You feel your stomach flutter at the gesture which only seems to grow in intensity when he doesn't bother to remove his gaze from you.

He can't actually be looking at you, right?

"I'm starting off with a song I wrote a few years ago titled Seesaw," he continues. "I wrote it while going through, what I thought was at the time, a hopeless period of my life. Please enjoy." And with that he begins strumming on the chords of his guitar, eyes slowly closing to immerse himself in the beautiful music.

Everyone is on the edge of their seats as much as you when he leans further into the mic, lips gently parting.

"In the beginning, well, it was fun

Just going up and down itself

Before we knew, we both became sick of

meaningless waste of emotions

A repeated seesaw, seesaw game

Having come this far, I got sick of, got sick of it

A repeated seesaw, seesaw game

We’re both got tired and became sick of it..."

As Yoongi continues to preform with closed eyes and breathy voice, you take in the rawness of his lyrics. Seesaw tells about relationship that's grown draining; that the weight of staying in something so tiring should come to an end sooner rather than later.

It resonates with you deeply as you've experienced first-hand the challenges of staying in a bottomless relationship. You didn't want to acknowledge it at the time, but you put in all the effort when you and your ex were together. And though it was three years ago since your break up, the constant feeling of exhaustion and being less than haunts you every night.

The vibrations in Yoongi's voice echoing off the mic tells you he's been through similar pain. So much so that it thrums in your own chest and you realize how wrong you'd been to think he'd compose a lighthearted song.

"How crafty the heart of a person is

Though we know one will get hurt if the other is not there,

because we both don’t want to be the bad guy,

we continue to awkwardly pass the buck, umm umm

and end up becoming exhausted, ironically reaching the paralleled balance

Ay, this is not the kind of balance that I wanted..."

With every line, you notice Yoongi's delicate fingers struggling to hold down each chord. It's clear that he's thinking about whoever this song is about in this very moment. Nevertheless, he presses on with a fervent spirit until the end.

You and a handful of people are the only ones who clap when the last line of Seesaw is sung. The rest of the audience is oddly reluctant to applaud and your best guess is that they weren't expecting to hear something so profoundly reflective. The musicians before him had been far more upbeat so to speak.

"Thank you," Yoongi mutters with hesitance. He scans the mute crowd who seemingly cause the air to grow thicker by exchanging awkward glances with one another.

Without another word, Yoongi surprises everyone by standing up from his stool and walking over to the seat he was sitting in before coming on stage. He picks up a few loose papers, and his keys, and zips his guitar into its case before heading for the exit.

"Didn't he have more songs to play?" Nara turns to you with a frown on her face, puzzled at the turn of events.

"I thought so too," you reply, fingers restless as you watch him leave the cafe. "You know what...I'll be right back." You're unsure what prompts you to follow him out other than your unsettled conscience telling you that this isn't the first time he's gotten this type of response and that he deserves better.

"Excuse me, Agustd? Or Yoongi?" You're sure he can hear your voice call to him as he opens the rear door of his beater car. His head whips in your direction immediately.

"Yeah?" He answers simply yet when he sees the white of your eyes, he does a double take; stunned that the only person he cared to recognize the whole night followed him out.

Typically with small gigs like this Yoongj doesn't take much note of the crowd unless they're booing him off the stage. And even then he plays it off. But somehow, your relaxed gaze soothed him, so he remembers you—he remembers the way you made him feel.

"I just wanted to say you sounded good. Better than good actually," you correct yourself, words sputtering out a little too fast. "Seesaw is amazing and you're a genius to have written it."

Your hands get clammier as you approach him. You hope this doesn't sound dumb but something in you won't let him leave without giving him at least a shred of honest encouragement.

The corner of Yoongi's mouth barely quirks up before it quickly falls back down. He sets his guitar in the back seat of his car, then shuts the door and gives you a nod. "Thanks but you don't have to say that."

He moves to the driver's door and reaches to grip the handle but out of nowhere, you stop him by placing a hand over his wrist.

"I mean it," you assure him.

Yoongi doesn't move a muscle as he glances between your hand around his wrist and your seemingly oblivious face. For three seconds you stare at each other with intense eyes, wordless as you take in each other's micro-expressions.

Through the physical contact, you can both feel the rapid beating of each other's hearts but you're unsure if it's simply nerves from an embarrassing situation or something else entirely.

"Sorry." You finally come to your senses and retract your fingers. "I just wanted to tell you that I connected with the lyrics of your song. Not everyone does and that's okay but it really is amazing Yoongi. So don't pay attention to those rude people in there okay?"

At this, Yoongi's expressions soften and a timid smile forms on his plushy lips. He runs a hand through his messy hair, smoothing down some of the loose strands sticking up.

"I appreciate you coming out to tell me this...wait what's your name?"

"__."

"__. Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed my music but don't worry, I don't take it personally when people dislike my songs. It just means it wasn't for them." He shrugs carelessly but there's a hidden sorrow laced in his tone. He holds his chin high yes, but his heart is so deep in his chest.

"Hey," you start. "If I was a music manager I'd sign you on immediately. You don't happen to have that song recorded do you? Uploaded to music platforms or anything?"

"Yeah, I just put it on Spotify actually. I also have some CDs." Yoongi pauses and wets his lips. "If you're interested," he finishes with slightly averted eyes.

"Call me old fashioned but could I get one of those?"

"What?" He taken aback by your response.

"A cd. You said you have one?"

"Uh sure, yeah just a second." He walks to the trunk of his car, opens the lid, and rummages around until he pulls forward a small cardboard box. "I don't have great packaging yet but here's one." Yoongi holds out a plain white sleeve with a disk inside. "Hope you don't mind but I signed my name on it. Thought it would make it personal or something."

You take the disk from his hand and cheese at him. "Wow, I can't believe I'm getting an autographed version right off the bat. How much?"

Yoongi shakes his head. "You can have it."

"No, really how much?" Taking this man's cd without paying him a dime does not sit well with you. Regardless, Yoongi continues to insist.

"It's on me. Maybe when I get to the point where I can have concerts you'll come." He jokes but you remain serious, digging into your pocket for your wallet. You take 26000 won out ($20) and shove it in his hand. "Hey wait!" Yoongi calls after you when you quickly start backing away from him.

"No takebacks!" You holler. "I'm sorry to leave so suddenly but my friend's waiting for me inside. It was nice meeting you Yoongi and I look forward to when you become a raging success. Until then, I'll be streaming your songs on Spotify! Treat yourself to something nice alright?"

He steps forward, mouth falling open as if to say something but nothing comes out. Your face is already turned away from him as he watches you trot back to the cafe'. He rolls the cash in his hand and stuffs it in his back pocket, hoping that maybe he'll cross paths with you again.

A week passes and you've not forgotten your interaction with Min Yoongi. You wish you hadn't run away like you did but it's true that Nara was waiting for you inside. Any longer and she would have sent a search party for you–she's on the extreme end.

Plus, you didn't want him giving the money back to you. It was a noble gesture to hand it over to you for free but it wasn't necessary. Yoongi is an independent artist who's working to establish himself in the music industry and you were more than willing to pay for good music.

You're currently sitting in your car, replaying the affair in your head for the umpteenth time while you wait for your pizza to be ready. You were told you'd get a text notification though it's taking longer than usual, given how much louder the growling of your stomach has gotten.

Finding new ways to distract yourself gets more challenging with each passing minute. You open the glove department of your car and pull out Yoongi's cd, admiring the beautiful signature marked in black ink on the disk.

Seesaw - Agustd 2018

It's crazy of you but you kind of miss him. Yoongi wasn't like anything you expected him to be, so deep and grounded while at the same time warm-hearted. He was incredibly handsome too. And when you touched his arm, eyes piercing into his, it was like you were being magnetically pulled to him.

Is that possible though? Sharing a magnetic force with practically a stranger?

Your contemplation is interrupted when the sound of your phone notification rings off. Finally, your order's ready. You toss the cd back into the glove box and head inside the pizza shop.

"Hi, welcome to Little Slice of Heaven," the young lady at the counter greets you with a cheery smile. "How can I help you?"

"I have an order for __." You open your wallet and hand over your credit card. She takes it from you speedier than you like, ringing it up then returning it to you with a paper receipt.

"I'll go grab it for you." She swiftly turns around, nearly bumping into one of her coworkers. "Shit sorry!" The person gives a small grunt in response before mumbling an 'its fine, I got it'.

"Order for __."

You stash the receipt in your pocket, then look up to take the boxes of steaming hot pizza. "Yes, thank you so m–," You freeze at once at the familiar face in the iconic navy blue Little Slice of Heaven uniform.

"Yoongi?" He seems to be just as motionless as you when you say his name. "I didn't know..."

"I just started," he answers shortly. "It's uh, good to see you again. How have you been?"

"Oh you know, still alive. Pizza helps me." You chuckle to help break the ice. Yoongi doesn't laugh but you do catch his eyes softening the smallest bit. "What about you? How have you been?"

"Good. Music's good too." He runs a hand through his hair, a habit you're beginning to pick up from him. "I–sorry I must sound like an idiot. I didn't expect to see anyone I knew here tonight."

"You don't sound like an idiot. You said you just started working here right?"

He nods.

"Yoongi!" An older man with a navy blue visor on his head calls from one of the pizza ovens in the back. "I need you to deliver this to the lovely couple sitting at table 8. Times ticking!"

Yoongi looks at the man, then at you. He knows what he needs to do except the thought of letting you leave after getting the rare chance to see you again causes him to linger in place.

"It's okay," you try to ease him, despite also feeling conflicted to leave. "You're working. I come here often so I'll see you around." You're only able to take two steps before the same voice hollers to you.

"Wait, __. What are you doing tomorrow at 6?"

"It's Saturday so, probably watching re-runs of Friends. Why?"

For the first time, Yoongi lets out a hearty laugh and you're instantly reminded of his photo from the cafe last week; the one of him in the sky-blue cardigan with his guitar. His expression exudes the same joyful aura as if his two personas suddenly merge as one.

"I love Friends," he says. "The whole Ross and Rachel thing is driving me mad though, like why won't they–"

"Yoongi the food needs to go now!" His coworker yells at him again, wiping his sweat fro his brow. "Tell your girlfriend or whoever that is that you have work to do!"

"She's not my girlfriend!" Yoongi responds with rosy cheeks. "Sorry, I gotta get back to it. I know Friends is tough to compete with but do you think you'd have an hour to spare? We could–I could get a pizza for us to split. Already got your order down." He gives a lopsided grin as he jokes lightly.

"Okay." You break into a smile. "I wouldn't dream of passing up my comfort food." You sound calm but the back of your mind reels with uncertainty. Is he asking you out or is it the so-called "hang out", sometimes masked as a pre-date?

He reaches for the pad of paper on the counter next to him, scribbles something down, and tears it off to give it to you. "Here's my number. Feel free to text me if anything changes. No pressure though."

Once you take the paper from him, he disappears into the back of the kitchen before you can get another word out. Min Yoongi, you hum silently, timid yet takes initiative. Cute.

You decide it's better to see Yoongi's proposal as a hang out rather than a date. It's not like he came out and said, "do you want to go out" or anything. So at 6 pm on the dot, you agree to meet him at Little Slice of Heaven. As promised, he brings a pizza for you to share.

He's already changed out of his work clothes by the time you arrive; sporting a white t-shirt, jeans, and a thin chain necklace. The basic look works on him.

"So I didn't get to ask you yesterday," you start, turning to Yoongi who sits on the swivel stool next to you. "How do you like it here and what made you come?"

He shrugs and places a slice of pizza on his paper plate. "Pays the bills. I was working as a waiter down on main street a few months ago. I chose to leave that place due to poor management and...I lack social skills, evidently."

"Come on, you do not." You refuse to believe it. "Anytime we've talked it's been pleasant so any naysayers probably don't even know what side's up."

Yoongi snorts in amusement. "We've only had two conversations __." He says it flatly yet it doesn't keep your cheeks from feeling flushed, warmth blooming in the pit of your belly. Your name sounds different from his lips this time.

"You're right, and both times you've shown great social skills."

"I think you're stretching it a little. As I recall I was a bit more reserved with you than usual. Must have been awkward for you."

"Not in the slightest," you deny. "There's nothing awkward about being reserved. In fact, sometimes it's better and it typically means you're a better listener than most. And if you were so awful, you wouldn't be working here right? This is food service too."

"Thanks for saying that." He glances down at his hands in his lap, unsure of how much you're saying rings true, then looks back up at you. "I don't need to talk with people as much as I do a server though. It's more like I hand them their pizza and wish them a good life."

"Well, I guess you make a point there. But trust me Yoongi, you don't lack social skills. Can I ask you something though? Weirdly off-topic."

"Shoot."

"It's about your photo from the cafe last week. It showed you in a blue cardigan with a smile on your face except when you came in to play that day..."

An unexpected grin forms on his face as he finishes your sentence. "I looked like I hated my life or something right? Or like Grumpy Bear from that kiddy cartoon, Caring Bears.

"Care Bears."

"Right, Care Bears." He chuckles lightly. "The music I tend to write shows my raw feelings and experiences. A song like Seesaw, as you've heard, is no exception, but I don't think my overall theme has to be dark as well. The image you saw shows the current version of me, the one who's liberated from those past experiences."

"That's extremely meaningful, Yoongi."

"As far as why I showed up in a giant black sweatshirt, it's because I wanted to dress comfortably. I always get a little nervous performing in front of a live audience so it helps. Especially since I'm only a new artist without a label supporting me. I was also a little sleepy from mixing beats the night before too, I won't lie."

"That makes so much sense. How long have you been making music for?"

"Since a teenager. Like thirteen."

"Seriously?" You nearly fall off your chair. Yoongi is a born genius it seems.

"Yeah. I never pursued being an independent artist until now. Resources and connections were pretty grim for me. Since becoming an adult I've made some progress. Still working to get my name out there though."

"I understand." You nod along. "Being an independent artist, you must have to do a lot to gain exposure. Have you considered uploading videos of yourself playing your songs on social media?"

"I've done some and they've been good. I'm actually trying to send my songs to a few record labels but I haven't heard back from any yet. It's been a good six months so I don't know. There's still one that I'm holding out hope for. I only sent my music to them a week ago."

"That's a shame they didn't contact you. Just means they missed out on Agustd which they will, without a doubt, be regretting later. Do you have an estimate on when the newest label will reach out to you?"

"No clue. They say it takes anywhere from a week to three months. By the way," he pauses. "I have to ask. Do you really like my music? I don't mean that rudely or anything."

"Hell yeah, I like it! You're honestly insanely talented and love it actually."

"God," Yoongi fakes an eye roll. "Don't tell me you're my first groupie."

You both share a laugh that can only be described as natural.

"Enough about me." He speaks first after your laughter settles down. "What do you do? Have any crazy hobbies?"

"I'm afraid I don't have any crazy hobbies at the moment. I work as a vet downtown and I don't have much free time unless it's to binge-watch movies on the weekend. I love my job though."

"Ah," Yoongi narrows his eyes as if coming to a drastic realization. "It's all coming together."

"What is?"

"The reason why you're so kind and stable." He gathers several napkins and hands them over to you when some of the water from your glass accidentally spills on the table. "No you have a bright energy to you, but it's not hyper. It's like you really care in a hospitable way. You work with animals which requires a lot of heart. Do you have any pets at home?"

"Yeah, I actually have two cats. Both siamese. I want to get a dog but right now I wouldn't be around to take care of it well. Cats are a little more independent." You wipe up the water with the napkins and continue. "Thanks for saying all that Yoongi. I'm not sure stable is the best way to describe me."

"Well, for what it's worth you're the most stable person I've met. I think everyone needs someone like you in their life."

"I–what kind of people are you hanging around?" You feel flustered so you do the first thing that comes to mind, nudge his shoulder playfully which he laughs at. "I'm not all that. I have faults like anyone else."

"Name one." He taps the table with a finger to make a point. "Dare you."

"I don't know, I dislike vacuuming my rug."

"Oh my god." He covers his mouth to feign shock. "Scandalous. I don't think we should eat together again after that. Wow."

"Stop it, that was a dumb one. I have stuff I swear. If this were a first date I'd be a bit appalled that you're asking me to list my faults. It isn't usually the time you try to pick each other apart."

"Actually, it sort of is to an extent. You have to observe each other right? So those so-called red flags will come up sooner than later to keep you from unnecessary pain and heartache later."

You maul on his words. "Point made. Wish I knew that three years ago," you hum. Yoongi seems to agree with you from the way he quietly nods.

"Ex-boyfriend?" he asks.

"Yup, what about you? Ex-girlfriend?"

He nods again and it puts an end to any further talk about exes or past relationships.

"By the way," Yoongi folds his arms against his chest. "I have a cat too. I got him two years ago at a shelter. He's pretty much my best friend."

The excitement on your face is impossible to conceal. Min Yoongi has a cat? You need to know everything about said cat right now.

"What's his name? Is he a long hair? You give me long-haired cat dad vibes." You're hasty— so sue you, you're a vet. Animals are sort of your wheelhouse.

"His name's Kiwi and he's an overly fed Russian Blue. He's six years old." Yoongi laughs and leans towards you with mirthful eyes. "If you want, I can introduce you to him." He cocks a brow and your shoulders perk up.

"Honest? I would actually die to see your cat."

Yoongi slides off his chair and tosses the empty pizza box in the trash. "Let's go to my place then."

"What?" You crickle the napkin in your hand and toss it on your paper plate. "Now?"

"Yeah now's as good a time as ever." He takes his keys from his jeans pocket and gestures for the door. "Don't worry, I won't make you stay for long."

a/n: thanks for reading! lmk what you think 💞

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts smut #bts au #bts fanfic #fic:enamored #kookslastbutton

548 notes · View notes

emmasbrain · 7 months ago

Text

Miscommunication (the fun kind) Part 2

This is part 2, trust when I say it makes very little sense without part 1.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Synopsis: You meet him for your date, but it’s cut a little short.

Warnings: None I can think of other than cringe writing.

A/N: This took ages man, I don’t know what happened but I just felt a block so many apologies for taking so long.

As you click the little green button, you feel unnecessarily nervous. “Hello.”

“Hi.” He replies, and the smile that graces your lips can be heard from the other end of the phone.

“Doc. I’m glad you called.” You try to play it cool, but you know he can sense your excitement anyway.

“I’m glad you asked me to. Look, I’m on my way to a case right now, but I was thinking that when I get back we could do something? Go for dinner, maybe?” He sounds as nervous as you feel, and your heart spikes a little.

“Dinner sounds great. Have you thought of a place?” You do a little spin in the living room of your small apartment and you hear chatter in the background of the call.

“There’s this little restaurant that I normally get takeout from. I know them pretty well so they’ll keep me a table on short notice. They’ve got everything so statistically there’s bound to be something you like.” The way he speaks reaches a spot in your brain, fast and passionate, even about the most mundane things.

“I know I’m gonna like it because you do, and I trust your taste.” You bite your lip, wondering if that was too much.

“You should, I’m very particular.” His voice betrays the fact that he’s grinning, and you match his expression.

“I like particular. Particular is good.” Your voice has dropped a little subconsciously, and he’s about to reply when you hear the familiar voice of Agent Hotchner alerting Spencer that they need him.

“I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you when I’m home?” You almost sigh in contentment at just the sound of him, but you snap out of it quickly to reply.

“I’ll be waiting patiently, Doc. I’ll see you.” You hang up, and stand in the middle of your living room for what seems like an hour but truly is only a few minutes. Why are you so attracted to this guy you only met a few nights ago?

But you feel as though you know him, from the way Penelope has talked about him, from the time you spent together. You feel as though you know them all.

—

You just sent in the final draft of your latest article. This one had been an absolute nightmare, being asked to write a piece on climate change. Your editors loved you for your fresh takes, but after so long there was no angle on climate change that hadn’t already been written. They seem fairly happy with it, but you can’t help the nagging feeling of wishing you could have done the proposed piece on how tourism is ruining the economy like you had wanted.

Through the annoyance of knowing you could have done better, you still feel slightly more at ease knowing the article is finished and out of your hands, and that you can relax and drink your fourth mug of coffee for the day. It’s eleven am.

But as you stand to stretch your achy muscles and make some fresh coffee, your phone rings. You know who it is before you even pick up, but make sure to check anyway just in case.

‘Spencer’ flashes on your screen, and you immediately sit down on your sofa, hitting the answer button and taking a readying breath.

“Hey Doc.” Your voice is unintentionally airy, but he doesn’t seem to notice - or he pretends not to - as he replies.

“Hey. I got back from work late last night, but I didn’t wanna call in case you were asleep. I was just wondering what you had planned for tonight?” The grogginess in his voice is evident, and it raises a question before you can even think about answering his.

“Spencer, how long ago did you wake up?” The simple question makes him go quiet for a moment before he speaks.

“I woke up just before I called you.” He sounds nervous to admit it, like he’s embarrassed to be caught thinking of you so soon into his day.

“Must have been thinking about me in your sleep then. And to answer your question, I’m free tonight.” You can’t hide the tinge of satisfaction knowing he thought about you maybe as often as you thought about him.

The small breath he sucks in doesn’t pass by you. You may not be a behavioural analyst but you are a damn good journalist, and you know what that little breath means. It says “you caught me”. Was he really thinking of you in his slumber? You note it down in the back of your head to try and slip out of him later.

“Would you like to go for dinner to that restaurant tonight?” He seems to have composed himself as he asks his question, and you try not to sound too enthusiastic as you eagerly say yes. “Okay, great- that’s great! I’ll pick you up at six… I don’t drive.” The defeat in his voice makes you laugh.

“How about I pick you up?” You suggest, calming his nerves. “You can tell me where to go.” Truthfully, you had already planned to drive him. Penelope told you once how he doesn’t drive, and you called her two days ago to reconfirm. This information, however, is not something you feel the need to tell him, because it seems a little obsessive - but you were just thinking logically of course - and you don’t want to weird him out quite so early.

He seems to be okay with the idea, and you’re thankful that he doesn’t take it as a blow to his ego like most men would. The call ends after a few short pleasantries - that are actually pleasant - and you immediately get to work.

You throw open the doors of your wardrobe and go straight to the dresses, very slowly narrowing it down to two options. A flowy red dress that you almost go with, and a simple black silk dress that ends just below your knees.

This one is for special occasions, and you deemed this a pretty special occasion. As you rummage through your box of shoes and stack of earrings trying desperately to find earrings and heels in the same colour, you come across a pair of purple strapped heels that you know you have drop earrings in a similar shade to. You just can’t find them.

Suddenly you notice that it’s 12:30 and your brain short circuits. Your entire room is thrown upside down and inside out until you find the earrings you’re looking for, and then neatly arranged back to its original state, all within thirty minutes. Now you have your little purple dewdrops and your outfit is complete, but you have four and a half hours until you need to leave and you know you’ll need it, albeit mostly to panic.

Four hours passes and you’ve showered, shaved, styled your hair and put on some light makeup. Your nail polish is just dry and you have your dress on, so you buckle your heels and stand. Twenty five minutes before you can leave. That’s not bad. You just have to wait twenty five minutes… But what if traffic is bad? You should probably leave fifteen minutes early for that, right? And if you think about it, the time between leaving your house and getting to the car wasn’t considered in the time it would take you to get there, and if you drag it out that’s a good five minutes. So really you only need to leave in five minutes. But what’s the point of waiting five minutes really? You should just leave now. Good idea.

As you park at his apartment building you realise you may have been a little over eager. The drive was ten minutes shorter than expected, so you’re around thirty minutes early. Which is embarrassing, so to speak. But you decide to head up early, a gut feeling telling you that it’ll be beneficial.

As you knock, he immediately opens the door and then a sheepish look comes over his face. “I saw you get out of your car.” He nervously rubs his hand on the back of his neck and it makes you smile. Then you take in his attire. He looks similar to when you met him in the bar, although he’s wearing white converse to match a white shirt underneath his brown suit. He’s also sporting a watch, and - most importantly - glasses. Damn those fucking glasses.

You realise you haven’t responded and are now intensely looking at his eyes, and he looks a little uncomfortable.

“Shit- sorry. I was just looking at you- I mean you look good- Great! You look great. You look… pretty. I like your glasses, do you wear them often?” Although you can feel yourself rambling into oblivion, you somehow can’t stop the flood of words that come out of your mouth.

His mouth opens for a moment as though he might speak, and then it shuts again. He stands aside to let you come in. “I never let you in.” He comments, sounding apologetic.

You shake your head in reassurance. “That’s alright, I wasn’t sure if you would even be ready since I’m so early. I never meant to be, I just kind of over thought it and now I’m here.” You wring your fingers together. Spencer noticed that you do it as a nervous habit when you met in the bar.

“I was ready an hour ago, I’ve just been reading while I waited for you. You can sit.” He motions to his sofa, and you sit next to the armrest so that you can turn and lean your back against it to face him sitting a little away from you. “You look beautiful. You remind me of a painting called ‘Madame X’, you probably know it. You could almost be a modernised retelling. Did you know that the painting caused an extreme public discourse as people thought the artist, John Singer Sargent, made the woman look deathly pale and scandalously unclothed.” He says all this with a little grin, and you can’t help but grin along with him.

The decision to tease him comes before you can truly think about it. “You think I look deathly pale and scandalously unclothed, Doc?” As the words come out of your mouth, he pales slightly.

“No, of course not! You remind me more of the principle. The woman was so beautiful she was renowned for her looks. Painters had all but begged her to do a portrait before, but she declined until she found Sargent. But even then, the people of Paris thought the painting didn’t do her beauty justice. Despite this, the painting became famous and beloved for hundreds of years around the world, and to this day is still considered a work of true historical art. A timeless beauty. That’s how I think you look.” His passion for little things shines through again, and your mouth is left slightly agape from his words.

“That was…” You can’t even think.

“A lot, I know. I tend to ramble a lot. I don’t really notice that I’m bothering people until it’s too late.” He rubs the back of his neck again, and the thought of people being bothered by him sends multiple emotions running down your spine.

You reach over and grab his hand with one of yours, the other going to touch his face. “I was going to say, that was awfully considerate of you. Never assume that you’re bothering me. Talk quite literally as much as you please, I want to know what you want to say… If we weren’t on our first date I’d readily teach you exactly how much I enjoy when you talk, but that can be saved for another time, maybe.” Your voice drops nearer the end, and he picks up on it as he sucks in a breath and nods vigorously.

“Definitely- I mean yes, sure. I will keep that in mind.” He’s still nodding as you smile at him, a proper smile.

“You’re pretty when you get flustered. You get all red, from the tops of your cheeks all the way down your neck.” You silently wonder if it goes further. You wish you could check. The hand on his face trails down his neck as you speak, emphasising what you mean.

He gets redder. How can he get redder? “Pretty. You’ve used that word on me twice now.” The comment seems to be more of an observation than a question, but you answer it as though it is one.

“I think you’re pretty. Handsome is a word I dislike. It reminds me of Ken, like Barbie and Ken. You’re not a doll, you’re a man, who just so happens to be pretty. I could call you beautiful instead, I’d say that adjective very accurately describes you too. Gorgeous, if that’s something you prefer.” You relent as the redness gets impossibly worse, and it makes you feel a little guilty. “Sorry, Doc, I just like seeing you flustered. I’ll call you handsome or something more masculine if you’re more comfortable with that.” You give him a little smile and pull your hand from his face.

He wouldn’t say it out loud but he wishes you would keep it there. He grasps your other hand tightly in his, and he shakes his head. “I don’t mind. You can call me whatever you feel like… You’re wearing purple. Purple is my favourite colour.” He looks away for a moment, and it warms your heart.

“Purple suits you, as a favourite colour I mean. Mine is green.” Your voice holds a gentleness in it that comes with caring for someone. It’s baffling. You’ve known him days. A week at most. You shouldn’t feel so… warm around him.

“Green makes sense. I think purple looks best on you though, which is definitely coming from a place of bias.” This makes you laugh, small and breathy, but he smiles at the sound.

You don’t realise how much time has passed until you hear a buzzing noise, and you both realise it’s a phone ringing. It’s coming from the other room so you assume it’s Spencer’s and he quickly gets up to answer. You can’t hear much from the wall between you, but when he comes back through looking thoroughly disappointed, you can tell it’s a work call. “Serial killers don’t stop for first dates sadly.” You remark, and he looks a little surprised.

“How did you know?” He questions, coming closer to you and you stand up to face him.

“I may not be a behavioural analyst, but I can tell what that face means. It means ‘I’m so sorry but I have to go stop murders’.” You smile to try and reassure him, but you can see the cogs whirring in his brain.

He seems to be thinking too many thoughts to process, but suddenly he dips down and kisses you. It’s short, but it’s soft, and you have a look of surprise on your face as he pulls away. “I wish we had gotten to go on our date, but I really wish that this doesn’t stop us from going on another one.” He looks at you in anticipation, and you melt.

“I wouldn’t pass it up for the world, Doc. Why don’t you go get ready and I’ll drive you there. We can plan the next one in the car.” You kiss his cheek and go to sit back down, and he shuffles away to his bedroom with a stupid smile tugging at his lips.

A/N: So… thoughts on part 3 with newly established relationship reid x reader ? Equally, thoughts on me adding smut somewhere along the line?

#criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #fem!reader

175 notes · View notes

ickie · 7 months ago

Note

could you write something about charles getting home from a race late at night and reader trying to stay up for him🫶🫶🫶

♡ ickie writes: blurbs !

pairing: charles leclerc x reader summary: being without charles for two weeks was hard, but it seemed like waiting for him to get home was harder. \ word count: 0.5k warnings: none !notes: hey friends :) send requests here for blrubs/more short form stuff like this ! i have some longfrom fics in the works <3 want to be added to my taglist ? fill out this form !

your eyes felt heavy, eyes trained on the screen ahead of you barely taking in any of the plot of the episode of criminal minds that was playing in the background. it was almost 2 in the morning, and your body had wanted to go to bed hours ago... but you had promised charles you'd be awake for him when he got back. the two of you haven't seen each other in nearly two weeks, and it felt like two weeks from hell.

you weren't usually someone who was clingy, especially with charles. you had gotten used to his constant travels during the f1 season, usually making due with figuring out times to facetime, to call, to just chat, and normally that worked for you... not this time though, you felt the weeks dragging, your bed feeling empty and cold, an you couldn't even get yourself to drown in work.

as you began to nod off, finally allowing the sweet abyss of sleep take over you when you heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door which immediately had you waking up as you felt your heart rate speed up.

"mon ange..?" charles questioned as he opened the door while you basically sprinted up from your seat on the couch.

"charlie! i missed you, oh my god.." your arms wrapped around him before he could even put down his luggage, squeezing him like he was a soldier returning from war, which for some reason it felt like.

"i missed you too." he hummed, his arms wrapping around you as he discarded his luggage to the floor, he had other matters at hand.

the two of you stood in the doorway for a few moments, just taking eachother in, happy to be in eachothers arms again. "did you miss me?" charles questioned, clearly already knowing the answer.

"yes, obviously... it felt like you were gone for ages." you mumbled into his chest, finally pulling away to look at him. "i really did miss you." the words come out of you with a sigh, taking in his features.

he leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to your lips while one of his hands moved to cradle your face. "i missed you too," he reassured, pressing a kiss to your cheek, nose, and then another to your lips. the kiss began to get heated before you pulled away once again, cheeks flushed.

"i'm tired, char... can we go to bed and finish this in the morning? and we can talk about the race, too... i know you wanted to talk to me about that." you hummed before pulling him by his hand towards your shared bedroom, charles murming a response of agreement behind you.

it was nice to have your bed not feel empty again. it was nice to fall asleep with your boyfriend's arms around your body. it was nice to be able to fall asleep listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

you slept like a baby that night.

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x reader #answered .#anonymous #ickie writes: blurbs !

326 notes · View notes

solar-wing · 1 year ago

Text

⚣ Remember 🥷🏻

⚣🥷🏻A/N → This was a bit of a challenge for me for some reason. Maybe it's because we still don't know how exactly Jason died or what he was like when he was on the team so I had to go off what we know about Jason already. Plus, the fact that he doesn't have his memories really got my creative juices flowing. I did not proofread thus like the others cause I'm trying to focus on finishing my other fics. Also, here it is again for you @acoustickitten Anyways... WARNINGS: Emotion & Angst, Mentions of Death, NSFW warnings included on Patreon NSFW Version Here👈🏽

⚣🥷🏻Summary → When Jason died, your world fell apart. You and he had a special bond that you didn't share with anyone else on the team. So, when the chance to be reunited with him came as an invitation to Ra's Ah Ghul's island, you quickly took the chance to be with your old teammate, friend, and crush. Only you didn't expect to find him different than you remembered.

⚣🥷🏻Words → 4.2k

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🥷🏻

You were so glad you hadn’t given up.

When your previous team appeared on Infinity Island to rescue their friends, the Red Hooded Ninja battled with Nightwing, your old leader and friend. Ra’s ordered you to stay out of sight, as he didn’t want your former teammates to know you were here yet. Your mission was too important for them and yourself. So, you watched from one of the windows as your friends fought with your League allies.

Back in 2013, you had been recruited to the team by the Justice League when they discovered you on the streets of your city fighting crime with your meta-abilities. You could see into and read people’s thoughts, much like Miss Martian. Except your powers seemed to be stronger, seeing that you had the ability to control and enter someone’s mind at will and manipulate their thoughts. Along with flight force-field manipulations, you were quite the adversary. So when Batman, Captain Marvel/Shazam, and Black Canary showed up one day to offer you the chance to use your powers in a team environment, you figured, why not?

You were alone, having lost your family at a young age, and your adoptive family wasn’t much better, seeing you and your abilities as freaky. They just wanted to get whatever money they could off of you. So you accepted their offer and took on the mantle of ‘Psicon.’ Besides, living in the Cave was awesome. The Team was way more welcoming, and you felt like a part of a family for the first time, growing a special relationship with one of the members, Jason Todd, aka Robin.

Both of you and Jason had similar backgrounds and connected from that. The team often joked that the saying was true opposites attracted because you two couldn’t be more different from each other. Strong in your own rights, you were reserved, while he was outgoing. You thought with a slow, calculative mind, and he was impulsive. You were no pushover, but you mostly kept your thoughts to yourself, whereas he was very outspoken.

But, you found joy in your differences with each other. You shared similar interests and grew a strong bond. Over time, your feelings became less platonic and more romantic, which your friends loved to tease you for. Dick, Kid Flash, aka Wally, and Artemis mainly, before the latter two left the team for college.

You hadn’t known if Jason felt the same towards you, but Dick encouraged you since the two had a special relationship, both being Batman’s sidekicks and sharing the mantle of Robin. Not at the same time, of course. When Dick picked up the mantle of Nightwing, Jason had become the new Robin.

You were planning to confess your feelings to Jason but never got the chance.

A mission you weren’t on had gone left, and though you never found out what had went wrong, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened when everyone had returned except for Jason. Dick tried to comfort you as he felt your pain, along with Batman, but it did little to help. You were heartbroken.

Jason was the only one who knew your history, as you hadn’t told anyone else. He knew some of your deepest secrets and insecurities had helped you through dark moments, and now he was gone. And it wasn’t just for you, as your friends and teammates had noticed your impact on him.

Maybe that’s why some had joked about how Jason held a soft spot for you. He was always nice to you, of course. But, he always had a level of sass and bluntness he’d give others but never towards you. Your friends, even Bruce, had mentioned how they saw that you’d tapped into a more gentle side of Jason none of them ever could see or would be allowed to see, at least.

So, no. Dick couldn’t understand where your pain. No one could.

After that, a distance grew between you and the team since everyone refused to tell you what had happened. Then, in 2015 a little over a year later, Batman recruited a new Robin, Tim Drake, and you had fucking lost it at that point.

Furious at Bruce and Dick for being so willing to replace Jason, you went off on them, feeling they had dishonored him. Your teammates tried to calm you down, but your fury had been on a different level none of them had seen before. Even Conner was unsettled at the rage spilling off you, being considered the literal definition of anger issues himself. It was safe to say you had no relationship with Tim. While you weren’t hostile or bitter towards him, you had no incentive or want to build a friendship.

At some point, you received a mysterious envelope. Where it came from, you didn’t know, but what was inside it had your attention immediately. It was a letter asking for your aid in an important matter. And whoever wrote it apparently had particular need of your ‘talents.’ You were prepared to ignore it until you saw another note inside, only it wasn’t a note at all. It was a picture, a recent one.

Jason.

He was alive. You could tell cause he looked a bit older than the last time you saw him. Though, just by looking at the picture, you could see something was off. That usual egotistic but confident spark you always noticed in his eyes wasn’t there. Both the corners of his mouth were straight instead of one side upturned up a bit, leaving him with his natural smirk.

In truth, his blank gaze at the camera caused an unsettled chill to go through you. It was as if you were looking at a ghost of Jason instead of an alive one.

But it was him.

He was alive somewhere, and after so long of only feeling hollow and numb where your heart should be, you felt it stirring in your chest again.

You didn’t know if the others knew, and you weren’t planning on telling them. You’d contemplated leaving the team for some time, and Tim’s recent addition only made that decision easier for you. So the next day, when everyone was asleep, you packed your clothes and disappeared that night, not saying goodbye to anyone.

That’s how you ended up with the League of Shadows and the Al-Ghul family on their island. When you saw Jason for the first time, you wanted to run to him, hug him, and sob into his shoulder. Part of you didn’t believe he was alive, needing hard proof of living flesh in front of your eyes. Truly enough, even looking at him, your mind still couldn’t believe he was there. He still had that strange blank look on his face, though. When you first entered the room, he stared at you, which creeped you out even more now that it was in person.

You found out Ra’s and his family were the ones who recovered Jason’s body and had used the infamous Lazarus Pits to revive him, and while the pit’s healing and life-restoring abilities did that, there were consequences. He explained that the Pit tampered with Jason’s mind, sending him into a feral and almost animalistic state, and though they tamed him, his mind was scattered, and memories were gone.

That’s where you came in. Your telepathic abilities had been recognized exceptionally for their strength, surpassing M’Gann’s powers. With your ability to enter and manipulate minds, Ra’s suspected you could restore Jason’s memories, bringing him back to himself.

At first, you were unsure since you didn’t know the consequences that could come if you tampered with his thoughts. When you’d voiced these concerns, Jason had turned his head to you, a curious gaze replacing his blank expression. Ra’s and Talia observed, speechless as he made his way to you, head tilting in confusion as he stared into your eyes. You didn’t move, watching his hand come up to your face and one of his fingers slowly caressing down your cheek.

“Psi…con.”

It was your turn to be speechless. You felt tears come to your eyes and shut them, attempting to hold yourself together. It was too much. Clenching your fists at your side, you choked on a gasp as you forced yourself not to cry. Even Talia felt a bit emotional at the sight of your grief, though she didn’t show it, remaining poised as ever.

“Ah, it would seem your presence has already triggered a spark in his mind. You two must have had a significant connection for him to recall your name.” Ra’s pointed out, eyeing you with an intrigued look.

It didn’t take much convincing after that.

“I’ll do it.” You stated with no hesitation in your voice.

That same smile Ra’s held when you agreed was the same one on his face now in 2019 as you and Talia holding baby Damian had come out just in time to see the Bio-Ship flying off to hear Jason uttering “Gray…son” in a slow, and almost zombie-like speech.

You had begun to lose hope. Jason, now the Sensei’s Red-Hooded Ninja, was trained as a guard and protector. He was no longer of a feral and animalistic sense of mind but more of a living, mindless zombie, understanding and taking directions well. However, the sessions he had with you were not making much progress.

Every time you’d gotten close to having a breakthrough or found what you thought was a crack in the haze around his mind when working, you got shut out. It was as if something was trying to keep you from getting to Jason’s inner mind and releasing his memories, and you didn’t think there would be much you could do anymore, as nothing seemed to be working.

So, expectedly, you felt your heart pause and your body still when you heard him. Barely feeling like you could move, tears had once again come to your eyes at hearing the first word in the four years you’d worked in healing Jason’s mind.

“Ah, your memory is finally returning. Excellent.” Ra’s said before he turned in your direction, nodding for you to come to his side. “Your work is starting to pay off. I’m aware of your frustrations in this quest, but tonight has proven your efforts are not in vain. I want you to continue your sessions more frequently. This could be the start of him fully regaining his mind.” You nodded your head before turning back to walk inside, Jason trailing behind you from Ra’s order.

He followed you to your room, where you went inside and rummaged through your drawers before finding the desired items. You turned to see him standing in the middle of the room, the red glow from his robotic eye mask bright in the moonlight from your window.

“Please, sit.” You asked.

In your sessions with him, you always spoke with a gentle tone. You didn’t want to command or order him around like the others. You communicated with Jason as you always had before, hoping it’d bring familiarity and comfort. Over time, it seemed to work. Jason notably sought you out whenever something distressed him. For whatever reason unbeknownst to you, this had pleased Ra’s.

Even if you were having little success restoring Jason’s mind, Ra’s had noted that while everyone else had Jason’s obedience, you held something more precious, his loyalty and trust.

Tonight, you hoped you’d found what you needed to achieve that first and ultimate objective. When your old teammates showed up, and you watched Nightwing and Jason battle, it reminded you of the old days before he had died. You three goofing around in the control room during sparring and training.

After hearing him utter Nightwing’s name and thinking back to the first time he uttered your old superhero name, it hit you like a ton of bricks.

Those moments were all triggers for Jason. Things that evoked emotion and nostalgia from him, like when someone smells a dish their grandparent used to make when they were a kid or hearing a song that reminded them of a special moment.

It made you remember a comment Jason once made about how when you talked, it calmed him. He said how he found your voice relaxing and that he could just listen to you speak about whatever, and it would bring him peace. Not really knowing what he meant by it, you remembered very well how it made you feel and how it still makes you to this day.

Thinking back to the night you came to the island, you realized Jason hearing your voice had been his first trigger, which helped him remember your retired name. Fighting with Dick brought back the nostalgic feeling of when he used to spar with him in the control room, helping him remember his name.

So, you intended to create more triggers. Whatever prevented you from fully accessing Jason’s mind and releasing his memories was obviously weak to emotional pulls. Those pulls could come from anything that held a feeling of significance or nostalgia in his memories.

Grabbing what you needed, you joined Jason on the ground, crossing your legs before placing everything in front of him. You had a small collection of Jason’s things he’d given you or stuff you had borrowed from him and forgotten to give back. You had some of his favorite books, old batarangs, and even one of his eye masks from his Robin costume.

He looked at everything on the ground, picking some things up and observing them before placing them back down.

You’d tried this tactic before, but with your discovery, you figured maybe there was something you needed to do or say to help spark something. Jason thumbed through some books and messed with the Batarang a little, but you had to be careful since you weren’t sure if it was one of the ones that could explode.

When he picked up the eye mask from the Robin costume, his head tilted while looking at it before turning to you and holding it between his hands, making you grin at his adorable confusion.

“It’s your old mask. It goes over your eyes. Here, I’ll show you.” You explained, holding your hand out, allowing him to place it in your hand.

You brought it up to your face and put it on before showing him, “See? Like the one you have on, it goes over your eyes.” You said.

Jason stared back at you before he looked down and pointed at the space next to you. Realizing what he was asking, you nodded, “Yeah, you can sit next to me.” You expressed, patting the spot next to you

He got up before moving to the spot and placed himself back down before turning to look at having to tilt his head down slightly. He pointed to the mask on your face, silently asking for it. When you took it off and handed it to him, he just looked down at it, turning it to study it from all different directions.

“Do you want me to help you put it on?” You offered.

He turned his head to you, that glowing robotic mask staring at you before you saw him slowly nod. Turning your body to face him a bit more, you reached your hands up slowly, “May I?” You asked, referring to his current eyewear.

He paused for a moment before nodding. Gently placing your hands on the sides of his head, you grabbed the mask and lifted it from his face, able to see his blue-green eyes, taking time to enjoy them since it was rare you ever got to see them. He rarely removed his mask, and only when you were doing intensive work with your telepathic powers on him did he sometimes remove it.

You were caught in his gaze as well as he was with yours. For a moment, it felt like you were back in 2013 before everything had gone wrong, and it was just you and Jason, staying up at night talking about anything and everything that came to your mind. The memories brought some tears to your eyes, and you were shocked to feel a finger come up to one of them. Jason was looking down at you, and though he mostly still held a blank expression, you could see underneath a bit of concern etched into his gaze.

“I’m okay.” You assured, or at least attempted to.

Wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your robes, you gave him a quick smile, which seemed to relax him. You hadn’t even noticed he was tense.

He turned back to look at the mask before slowly placing it on his face. A bit smaller now since he’s grown, it was like you were looking at him as the day you last saw him. You loved how his hair was still slightly curled over his forehead with the mask, not being able to notice it as much when he wore his ninja hood.

You raised your hand slowly to his face, pressing your palm against his ear. Whether or not he snuggled into your hand was totally not important and did not cause swooning in your gut.

Alright, you’re a liar. But you’ve been through a lot these past few years. You’re allowed to have this moment.

“Okay, Jason. We’re going to do what we do in every single session. But, this time. I’m going to project some of my memories into you. Is that okay?” You asked. Consent is key.

He nodded his head after a moment, training his eyes on you as you closed yours. He kept focusing on you while you channeled your memories into your hands to pass on to him. Eventually, he closed his eyes, welcoming your power into his head.

There were flashes of different moments from your past, all relating to you and him. Some were moments of you guys training together in the sparring room with Dick. There were times of you two together on missions, and one particular memory when Jason’s big mouth got you both into a less-than-desirable situation once again. But he managed to get you out of the sticky mess by using said big mouth again. That memory always brought a smile to your face. You remembered being so mad at him and then laughing at it like madmen when you returned to the Cave.

In each of these memories, Jason was wearing the mask. It was a part of his identity. Not just as Robin, Batman’s sidekick, but as Jason Todd. The boy who just wanted someone to care about him.

Suddenly, your head flooded with more memories, some you recognized as not your own. In your physical body, you could feel Jason tensing in front of you, shouting out in pain. It was working!

You managed to unlock part of Jason’s memories. Concentrating, you could see some of these moments from his past. And to your shock, they all seemed to involve—you. You saw the first day you’d met the team and Jason for the first time. You’d thought he was an obnoxious little twat, emphasis on the little since you were taller than him at that point, and you had voiced this thought as well. Over time, he caught up with you. And now, he’s got a few inches over you.

“Did this nobody just call me a little twat?”

That wasn’t your voice, nor was it your words. You did call Jason a twat that day, but you’d never call yourself a nobody.

You caught another memory of when you and he were with the team fighting against Dr. Ivo and Amazo. That fight left many bruises on your body since Ivo had decided to make some upgrades. When Amazo managed to get your powers and use them against you, it’d trapped you in your thoughts, torturing you with some of your worst memories. Jason pulled out of there while the others had managed to distract it long enough and eventually take it down. He’d overheard some of what you were crying out about and decided not to push.

When you had returned to the Cave, Jason followed you outside to get some air and think for a moment. You had warmed up to each other a little, and Jason had started telling you about his background and how he came to be Batman’s sidekick. After some contemplation, you told him about your past and how the Justice League found you. He had made a joke saying all you needed was the staircase and a letter from a white owl, and you could be the next Harry Potter.

You punched him in the arm for that joke,

“Hmm, kid’s not as bad as I thought he was. Packs a punch too.”

It took you a minute to realize, but you eventually got it.

These were Jason’s thoughts from those memories you were witnessing, his own inner dialogue. It was interesting to see some of the moments he found precious, things you had never even thought about before or remembered at the very least. And now, you were hearing it from his point of view. You used to always make a joke with him that you’d pay big money to know what he was thinking about sometimes.

“If he knew what I was thinking, I’m sure he’d either smack me or punch me, maybe both. Wouldn’t do anything except make him hotter.”

Pardon? Can we rewind that last part?

Did Jason call you hot? Like hot, as in attractive hot? Or, hot as in, ‘Ah! This bitch is burning. Get them away from me,’ hot?

Looking at Jason’s other memories with you, you could also feel some of his emotions from those precise moments. You felt annoyance from earlier thoughts, typically around the earlier parts of your relationship. Amusement at times when you and he would get into a silly argument. Or when you went on one of your excited rants about something. The further you got along in his mind, the more you felt his feelings change, becoming more intense. Curiosity turning into fondness. Admiration becomes the urge to protect.

A particular memory had caught your mental attention. One that you recognized was about a week before the mission that would ultimately lead to the end of Jason’s life. Dick and Jason were at their house, Wayne Manor, and they were talking while working in the Batcave.

“So, how’s everything between you and Zatanna?” Jason asked while practicing his kicks and punches on one of the training dummies.

“It’s good. She’s still a little upset over Nabu’s refusal to release her father’s body for no more than an hour, but she makes do with it.” Dick said, turning to face him from whatever he was doing on the Bat-Computer.

Things had gone quiet for a moment, Dick looking a little smug before he spoke up, “So, you and Y/N?” He smirked.

You felt a clench in your chest and didn’t know if that came from Jason or yourself.

“Shut up,” Jason said.

“I’m just saying, you two seemed to have gotten really close over the last few months. You’re actually considerate and somewhat respectful when you’re around him too.” Dick commented.

“Fuck you, and again. Shut up.” Jason responded.

Somehow, you could feel the small smile that formed on his face.

“You want my advice—”

“No.”

“Tell him how you feel and ask him out,” Dick continued, ignoring Jason. “And I’d do it soon. You didn’t hear this from me, but I’ve heard someone else on the team has eyes for Y/N too. So, if I were you, I’d hurry up and take my chances. You never know how long you have until it’s too late.”

An unpleasant toil in your stomach blossomed at that sentence, but you felt curiosity at the same time. You just didn't know if one or both feelings belonged to you or Jason. You did wonder who harbored feelings for you on the team though.

You couldn’t dwell on it any longer though when you were tackled to the ground, forced back to reality. Opening your eyes, you saw Jason on top of you, looking at you with another feral look, only it wasn’t the same as the one he had when you first arrived on the island. This one was wild but in an attractive way. His sea-like colored eyes staring back at you but with a darker look. It had you on edge but also ☀️feeling very hot with how he pinned your arms to the ground.

“I… l-lo– love … y-you.”

Your entire body froze as his head fell against your shoulder. Feeling his chest move against push against your back with his breathing, you could only turn your head slightly to stare at his before he turned to face you. The dark haze in his eyes was now gone, and his blue-green ears were staring back at you with the same adoration you’d always seen before whenever he looked your way.

He remembered you.

☀️ | DC Masterlist | ☀️

☀️ } Masterlists | ☀️

475 notes · View notes

nicksbestie · 8 months ago

Note

HI!!!! im back hehe >:]

can u please write an fem agere!reader x [kinda] cg jake & johnnie where;

> reader is colouring and starts slipping into a regressed mind without trying

> jake n johnnie then start talking to her but shes all baby [she doesnt realise while shes talking to them]

> so they both gotta figure it out [theyre confused at first]

> then when they realise whats going on [bc she told them about it a while ago] they try to take care of her

[hope this makes sense LOL]

Coloring - Johnnie Guilbert + Jake Webber

Summary : When an activity that you're doing to cure boredom causes you to slip, you're incredibly lucky that your best friends are so wonderful.

Pairing : Jake Webber/Reader (platonic), Johnnie Guilbert/Reader (platonic)

Word Count : 1276

Warnings : none!!

A/N : This is an age regression fic, which is purely safe for work and innocent. Any hate/disrespect towards me, my work, or readers, will not be tolerated.

There were some activities that never stopped being fun despite the process of growing up. Coloring was one of those things for you, and it had always been something that you did for fun, to unwind, and you had continued to enjoy the activity regardless of how old you were. It was something that turned off your brain for a while, and let you relax, listen to music in the background, and just tune out the rest of the world. You loved the way that it was able to give you some quiet space for yourself, knowing that you often needed it. However, sometimes the activity could be more child-like, and it could be a trigger for your headspace.

It wasn’t often that just the simple thing of coloring pushed you into your headspace, but if you were really exhausted, or upset, or if you were feeling any other emotion stronger than you normally would be, then it was a possibility that it could cause you to slip. This was why you would usually color alone if too tired or sad, just so that you didn’t run the risk of anyone walking in should you slip. You lived with your two best friends, who both knew about your littlespace after a long, awkward, conversation, because they came home once while you were small. They had luckily been incredibly accepting and loving, and had been there for you when you needed anything since that point.

You hadn’t taken them up on it, not wanting to bother them, and still having some anxiety around it. But you made sure that they both knew just how much you appreciated the support and kindness that they consistently displayed, always making sure that you were happy, as much as possible. Jake had already had his assumptions about what was going on before he found out, but he had pushed it to the back of his mind until that one day that he had walked in. He was always the most gentle with you, always watching to make sure that everything was okay, that you were comfortable and felt safe, even in his own presence.

Today, you weren’t feeling upset at all, and so, you were coloring at the coffee table in front of the television. There was a random show playing in the background, and you were working on a mandala coloring, switching from marker to marker every time you started on a new detail. You had been working on it for a while, and were almost finished with it. By the time you finished it, you set it to the side, tearing another of the mandala designs out of the book, since it had perforated pages. It was much easier for you to color when your page was directly on a flat surface and not just the book, and you didn’t have to worry about the markers bleeding through the paper onto the design behind it, effectively ruining it.

You were about halfway through the next drawing when you heard the garage open, and Jake’s car pulled in seconds later. You were glad that the garage had alerted you to them being home, because your back was facing the door, and if they had just walked in behind you, it probably would’ve startled you. You didn’t acknowledge when the door did eventually open, until you heard Jake yell a loud “We’re back!”. You smiled, turning around to wave at them, returning the hello as well. Johnnie walked over to see what you were doing, hugging you before glancing down at the paper in front of you.

“What’cha coloring?”

You smiled, picking up the page and showing it to him. You were always incredibly proud of the colorings that you had finished, because to you, it showed a lot of patience and dedication. Johnnie smiled, telling you it looked amazing. Jake put the stuff that they had bought, probably for his next video, and walked over to also take a look. He saw the one you were working on, and the one that you had finished earlier.

“These look amazing! I love them.”

You smiled, the praise getting to you and causing you to blush a little bit. You couldn’t deny that you did seek their approval, and it always made you feel super happy when you got it. Not that it was hard to earn, but still, it always felt like somewhat of a reward. You weren’t overly tired or upset today, but the gentle praise and soft smiles did make you feel like you were going to eventually slip. Choosing to not say anything else, you just continued to smile and work on the page you were coloring. Johnnie sat down on the couch next to you, passing you markers every now and then, throwing an arm around you and watching the show you had turned on as well.

Jake was doing something or other in the kitchen, probably making food, and when he offered Johnnie chicken nuggets, he noticed the way you lit up and immediately put some in for you. Once they had finished cooking, he brought you over a plate at the same time that he brought the nuggets over for Johnnie. You noticed once it was sitting in front of you that all of the nuggets were cut into smaller pieces, and you had a feeling that these two were just out to get you.

“Be careful, okay? You don’t wanna spill anything on the couch.”

Nodding, you started eating, continuing to color between bites. It was the combination of the cut up food, the coloring, the comforting arm around your shoulders, and the babying tone that was being used when speaking to you that caused you to eventually give in to your headspace, yet staying quiet because you do still harbor a little bit of fear about it. It wasn’t until Jake and Johnnie began having a conversation, filled with cursing and inappropriate jokes, that they realized. They made a crude joke to you, and you simply just stared at them, mumbling a soft

“Don say dat. Bad words.”

It was at this point that they simply stared back at you, completely confused at the sudden change, before snapping out of it. Jake was the first one to say anything, passing you another marker and side hugging you.

“You’re right, honey, I’m sorry.”

When Johnnie realized the tone of voice that was being used, he understood what was going on, and he couldn’t help but think that you were absolutely adorable. They both felt so honored that they were trusted with such a vulnerable part of your life. They both began making sure that everything around you was appropriate. Johnnie switched the channel, and Jake gently offered a different coloring book, one that had lots of cartoon characters in it. He didn’t make you take it, but he offered it to you, just in case you’d want it. Those designs would take a lot less patience to finish, thus possibly avoiding a potential meltdown. Jake easily cleaned up the dish once you finished your food, bringing you some juice to drink, and making sure that you were always wrapped up in someone’s arms, and feeling safe.

The rest of the night went arguably the best you could’ve asked for, neither of them blinking an eye at the babyish vocabulary, or the emotional state that you had sometimes. They both knew that when you were no longer in headspace, you would probably be anxious about what had happened, and they were fully prepared to reassure you and tell you that they loved caring for you.

~ taglist : @jake-and-johnnies-slut @gvf23 @elliem505 @ilydeaky @maryx2xx @oobleoob @aemrsy @blahbel668 @mystic-maniac @maddytheweird @707xn @jasperthefriendlyghostt @camille-1019

~ if you'd like to be added to my johnnie and jake taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!! <3

141 notes · View notes

goblinontour · 3 months ago

Text

CinemaScope

no camera dolly needed for this film

series masterlist

warnings: soft!dom!alex, smut, oral (m/f receiving), piv

word count: 6.9k

La Frette Studios - France, 2017

The chateau loomed before you, its grandeur almost surreal against the bright and clear sky. It resembled a castle in a way. Yet, the most captivating sight was Alex, leaning in the doorway, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he watched you take it all in.

He’d let his beard grow out, maybe a bit too much. Thicker and more unruly than usual. It was obvious that he hadn’t bothered to trim it much lately, and while it filled in well around his chin and jawline, the sides of his face remained stubbornly patchy. It gave him a slightly dishevelled look that suited him somehow, adding a ruggedness that made him appear older.

But when you really looked at him, past the facial hair and the glasses he stubbornly never seemed to want to take off, that familiar baby face of his was still there, hiding beneath the surface. Speaking of glasses, he had these new ones he got on his last trip to this place, when he fell in love with it and decided he had to record here. They had become a near-constant fixture on his face.

His shirt was a different story. Probably should’ve been thrown out ages ago. The neckline was frayed, barely holding on by a thread from how ripped it had gotten over time from years of wear. But he clung to it, letting it become part of this character he’d built, a mix of his obsessions and eccentricities. You didn’t mind, though. It was all just part of who he was, part of the Alex you adored.

You had never minded his quirks. If anything, you found them endearing. They were part of what made him who he was, and you loved every bit of it. So, as you stood there, taking in the sight of him, in this almost-castle in the French countryside, you couldn’t help but smile. He was all yours.

He had explained how they’d shipped all their equipment here, preparing for the new album recording in France. You’d barely listened, too thrilled at the thought of having him all to yourself for a few precious days before the band arrived.

“Ready to come inside?” he called out, his voice pulling you from your reverie. You nodded, walking towards him, the gravel crunching softly under your feet.

Inside, the chateau was a labyrinth of rooms filled with tech you had no clue about and high ceilings. Alex gave you a brief tour, but your mind was elsewhere, already imagining the mess you’d make the place. No distractions, just the two of you. In a fucking castle. In the middle of nowhere France.

As you reached the heart of the building, Alex turned to you, his eyes softening. “It’s just us for now.” he said, his voice low and inviting. You felt a flutter of excitement. The space felt almost too grand for what you knew would happen sooner or later. You had just a few days until you’d have to leave and you’d be apart for who knows how long it would take them to finish everything up.

He led you to a cosy enough sitting room, its large windows overlooking the sprawling gardens. Instruments were arranged all over the place, waiting for the creative process to begin, but for now, it was just background noise.

“Did I tell you I wanna get into directing some stuff?” Alex asked, his voice casual as he perched on the arm of the chair where you’d settled in.

“You didn’t.” you replied, looking up at him, curiosity piqued.

He leaned forward slightly, fingers idly playing with the hair on his chin, smoothing it down as he spoke. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. There’s something about creating a visual narrative that really excites me. But…” He trailed off, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll need some practice.”

“Hmm?” you murmured, encouraging him to continue. There was something in his tone that made you suspect he had a plan in mind.

He slid off the arm of the chair, walking over to where his bag lay discarded on the floor. You watched as he crouched down, rifling through its contents with a kind of casual focus that was so typically him. After a moment, he straightened up, holding something in his hand. A relatively small, very old looking camera. Turning back to you, he flashed a grin, his eyes gleaming.

“I wanted to ask if you’d help me out.” he said, his voice dropping to that smooth, almost conspiratorial tone he used when he was up to something. He walked back over, standing in front of you, the camera dangling from his fingers. “If you would be so kind as to be ma muse.” he added, his attempt at French charmingly imperfect, still laced with his unmistakable Sheffield accent.

You couldn’t help but smile at his request, the idea of him directing something suddenly feeling so perfectly suited to him. “What exactly are you planning, Turner?” you asked, a playful lilt in your voice.

He tilted his head slightly, contemplating how to respond. “Well,” he began, slipping into that thoughtful demeanour, “I’ve got this place, right? This castle…in the middle of nowhere. And I’ve got you.” He gave you a pointed look, his expression softening. “Seems like the perfect setting for something quite...cinematic.”

You laughed softly, the idea of turning these few days of solitude into something more intentional, more ‘creative’, appealing to you. “So, what kind of ‘directing’ are we talking about?” you teased, already half-knowing the answer but wanting to hear him say it.

He leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “Nothing too complicated.” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Just…capturing you. Us. The way we are right now, in this moment.” He paused, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering. “Think of it as…documenting our time together. Something we can look back on when we’re apart.”

The flutter of excitement from earlier intensified, mixing with a warmth that spread through your chest. You could picture it, all the intimate moments you’d share regardless, immortalised on film, something tangible to hold onto during the long stretches when you couldn’t be together.

You nodded, feeling a sense of anticipation build as he moved to adjust the camera in his hands. “Alright, director.” you said, leaning back into the chair, your eyes still on him. “Where do we start?”

He grinned, the excitement in his eyes mirrored in yours. “Let’s start right here.” he said, bringing the camera up to eye level, the lens focusing on you. “Just be yourself. That’s all I need.”

He began filming, the camera capturing every detail as you sat there. You held his gaze, feeling a mix of curiosity and nerves. After a moment, you broke into a soft laugh. “I’m not an actress, you know.” you said, your voice light, though your words lingered with a bit of self-consciousness.

Alex chuckled softly as he lowered the camera slightly, peering at you over the top with a playful glint in his eye. “That’s alright,” he said, his tone playful, “I’ll give you some directions then. How’s that sound?”

“Alright.” you agreed, placing your hands on your knees as you sat up a little straighter, preparing yourself for whatever he had in mind.

He glanced around the room before his eyes settled on the large, almost floor-to-ceiling French windows that stretched along the wall behind you. “Start by opening those up.” he instructed, nodding toward them. “Go and open up the windows for me, dolly.”

You stood, feeling the camera following your every move, but paused for a moment, turning to face him fully. “What’s up with that nickname?” you asked, a playful challenge in your voice. He’d been calling you ‘dolly’ for the past couple of weeks now, seemingly out of nowhere.

He shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. “I just like it.” he replied, as if that was enough explanation. “It suits you.” He brought the camera back up, aiming it at you once more. “Now, you should probably follow the director’s orders, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but there was a smile on your face as you turned back toward the windows. The nickname had grown on you, and though you wouldn’t admit it out loud, you liked the way it sounded coming from him.

The windows were tall and elegant, the kind you’d expect to find in a place like this, and as you reached for the handles, you couldn’t resist looking back at him over your shoulder. He was still filming, his focus entirely on you. You grasped the handles, feeling the cool metal under your palms, and slowly pushed the windows open, letting the outside world seep into the room.

“What was that for?” you asked, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

He lowered the camera just enough to meet your gaze directly, his expression still playful but now laced with a subtle edge. “I want to make sure that, if anyone walks by, they’ll hear you later.” he said.

The implication of his words sent a thrill down your spine. The game had begun, and you were more than ready to play along.

“Now,” he continued, his tone commanding but still soft, “Undress yourself. But make it pretty.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you toyed with the little bow at the front of your blouse. “So, you’re saying I’m not already pretty?” you asked, drawing out the words, knowing full well what you were doing.

He gave you a look, that look, the kind that sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. “Just keep going.” he murmured, his voice holding that edge of authority you found impossible to resist.

Slowly, you pulled on the strings of the bow, feeling the tension release as it came undone. You could sense the lens of the camera following your every movement, and it made you even more aware of how you were presenting yourself. You grasped the hem of your blouse, your fingers brushing against your skin as you began to lift it over your head. The fabric slid up, revealing the lacy bra underneath, delicately sitting against your skin.

A low whistle escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help but smirk at his reaction. You could hear the soft whir of the camera lens adjusting, zooming in closer, no doubt focusing on your chest.

“Are you zooming in on my boobs, you old perv?” you teased, half laughing, enjoying the banter as much as the moment itself.

“Hey, hey, easy there. Play nice.” he shot back, though there was no mistaking the amusement in his voice.

You held his gaze, the game now fully in motion, both of you aware of the dance you were performing, each step thought out, each word a part of the intricate choreography between you.

With a playful smirk, you reached for the waistband of your pants, fingers slipping under the fabric. You made a show of it, moving slowly, sliding the material down your legs with deliberate care, knowing his eyes, and the camera, were on you the entire time. You stepped out of the pants, letting them fall to the floor beside you, then turned back toward the chair.

You sat down gracefully, crossing one leg over the other, feeling the cool leather against your skin. Your hands moved with purpose, sliding up your body, grazing over your hips, up your stomach, and finally, to your chest. You pushed your breasts together, leaning forward just enough to give him the best possible view, the kind that would make the lens zoom in on its own if it could. He followed your every move, the camera capturing each subtle shift, every rise and fall of your breath. The thrill of being watched, of knowing exactly how much control you had over the scene, sent a rush of heat through you.

You reached behind your back, fingers deftly finding the clasp of your bra. With a flick, it came undone, the fabric loosening around you. You caught it in your hand, holding it up as it swung in the air before tossing it toward him. Even with the camera in hand, Alex managed to keep it steady, his other hand effortlessly catching the bra midair before tossing it over his shoulder with a grin.

“What now, mister director?” you asked, leaning back in the chair, your hands gripping the armrests, chest pushed out, fully exposed.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes still on you, but his tone shifted, deeper and more serious. “You can call me Alexander.”

You smiled, enjoying the game even more. “My dear Alexander,” you began, voice dripping with mock formality, “I think it’s your turn.”

“Is it now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the shift in dynamics. “Really?”

“Well…” you said, a playful edge to your voice, “I wanna have something to look back on too.” A grin spread across your face as an idea formed. “Give me the camera.” you demanded, holding out your hand expectantly.

He hesitated for a moment, looking at you with a mix of amusement and mock reluctance. “Just so you know,” he said as he handed the camera over, “You’re not getting any directing credits.”

“Sure, sure.” you said, waving off his words. “Now, get on with it and get naked. I don’t need it to be ‘pretty’.”

He stepped back a bit, but you quickly stopped him. “No, no. Step back a little more.” you instructed, adjusting the focus as he complied, moving further away so you could catch him fully in the frame.

He grabbed the hem of his tattered t-shirt, and with one smooth motion, pulled it over his head. The fabric caught on the rip at the neckline, and he spun it around on his finger with a flourish, giving you a cheeky grin before tossing it in your direction, mimicking how you’d thrown your bra at him earlier.

He held out his hand, signalling for the camera, but you shook your head, holding it just out of his grasp. “Nuh-uh. Pants too.” you insisted.

“Right…égalité.” he muttered with a smirk, his fingers already fiddling with the buckle of his belt. It took him a moment to get the hang of it, but soon he was sliding the belt out from the loops, whipping it between his hands with a satisfying snap a couple of times before stepping closer to you.

You were about to interrupt him again, but he shot you a look. “Don’t boss me around.” he warned, his tone half-serious, half-teasing.

With that, he placed the belt on the back of the chair, right next to where you sat. “Keeping it close…just in case.” he added with a wink before walking back to his spot, that same smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he began to take off his pants.

You watched through the camera. They were loose on him, too loose, a good few sizes too big, barely hanging onto his hips without the belt’s help. But they were still obscuring your view of the parts you really wanted to see.

He unbuttoned and unzipped them, letting the heavy fabric slide down his legs and pool around his ankles. But then, as he stepped out of them and stood tall again, your focus was drawn down, your breath catching in your throat. With the camera zoomed in on the bulge straining against the thin fabric of his underwear, the outline was unmistakable.

He rested a hand on his hip, that familiar smirk playing on his lips as he looked at you. But you didn’t see that. Your attention was entirely on what the camera’s viewfinder showed you. Every detail magnified, every inch of him hard and ready beneath the material that barely concealed him.

“Wow.” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes still glued to the screen.

His smirk widened, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “What?”

You finally pulled your gaze away from the viewfinder, looking up at him. “If I had a dick, I’d be hard right now looking at you.” you admitted, half-joking, but the way your voice wavered at the end betrayed just how affected you were.

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound filling the room and somehow making the air between you both thicker. “Well, that’s good to know.” he teased, reaching out to take the camera from your hands. This time, you didn’t resist, letting him take it with ease.

He flipped it around, aiming it at you. The change in perspective made your breath hitch as he loomed over you, the weight of his presence pressing down, making you feel small, vulnerable under his gaze.

He shifted closer, one hand still holding the camera while the other reached out to you, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. His thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone, then slowly slid down, skimming over your lips. He paused there, the rough pad of his thumb lingering on your bottom lip, dragging it down slightly. “Open wide.” he murmured, his voice husky with intent.

You obeyed, parting your lips, heart pounding as his thumb slipped into your mouth. The camera wobbled slightly as he adjusted his grip, trying to find the right angle to capture both of you. His eyes flicked from the lens back to you, a gleam of satisfaction in them as he extended his arm out, struggling to hopefully get everything in the frame.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned down, his face inches from yours. He spat into your mouth, the action slow, a display of control and intimacy. His thumb still rested on your lip as he watched your reaction, the camera forgotten for a moment as his gaze bore into you.

Alex shifted the camera’s focus back to capturing just you, the lens zooming in closer, capturing every detail of your expression. He was meticulous, making sure the angle was just right. “I’m gonna do it again.” he said, his voice steady but tinged with a playful command. “Just to be sure I get it right.”

You nodded slightly, your heart pounding in anticipation. Slowly, you stuck your tongue out, offering yourself up to him without hesitation. His eyes darkened as he leaned in, the smirk on his face replaced by something more intense.

This time, the spit was harsher, more forceful as it landed on your tongue. Before you had a chance to close your mouth, before you could even think to swallow, he acted. In a swift motion, Alex slid two fingers into your mouth, pushing them past your lips and deeper, further than you expected.

The sudden invasion made your eyes widen, your breath catching as he pressed down on your tongue, guiding his fingers toward the back of your throat. The sensation was overwhelming, your senses bombarded all at once by the taste of him, the roughness of his skin, the force of his touch.

You instinctively wrapped your lips around his fingers, the warmth of your mouth enveloping them as you tried to adjust to the feeling, to the sheer boldness of his. He watched you closely, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression one of satisfaction as he eased his fingers deeper, coaxing you into submission.

“Ah, there we go, there we go…” he murmured, his voice low and approving, each word sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers pressed further, testing your limits, the slight stretch making your eyes water. “You look very pretty.” he added, his tone soft but commanding, as if he were admiring a piece of art he’d just perfected.

He pushed just a little deeper, his breath hitching slightly as he watched your reaction, the way you took him in. “Très jolie.” he whispered, the French words rolling off his tongue with a quiet reverence, as if he were acknowledging your effort.

He slid his fingers out of your mouth slowly, the sensation leaving a lingering tingle on your lips. As they slipped free, he gave you a quick, almost playful tap on the cheek. A silent acknowledgment, a “good job” without the words. The gesture was brief, but it sent a warm flush through you, a feeling of pride curling in your stomach.

He adjusted his grip on the camera, holding it steady in one hand as he hooked his thumb into the waistband of his underwear. He shuffled out of them, the fabric sliding down his legs until it pooled around his ankles. Your eyes were locked on him, watching intently as his cock bobbed up once it was freed, thick and hard, the skin flushed with need.

Instinctively, you reached out, your hand moving to touch him, to feel the heat of him in your palm. But before you could make contact, he pulled back slightly, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he grasped himself instead. The sight of him holding his cock, stroking it lightly while still keeping the camera trained on you, sent a fresh wave of wetness rushing through you.

“Get down.” he instructed, his voice firm.

You scrambled to obey, quickly slipping off the chair and dropping to your knees in front of him. The cool floor was a stark contrast to the heat building inside you, but you barely noticed, too focused on him, on the way he looked down at you, the camera capturing every moment.

Your hands rested on your knees, a deliberate choice as you remembered his earlier words: “Make it pretty”. You held his gaze, your heart racing, as you waited for his next move, eager to show him just how well you could follow instructions.

Alex guided his cock to your lips, the tip brushing over them with intentional slowness, teasing you, testing your restraint. The weight of it, the heat, made your lips part instinctively, but he didn’t let you take him in just yet. He lingered there, savouring the moment before he spoke, his voice a low command, “You can suck it now.”

You didn’t hesitate, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, feeling the pulsing warmth beneath your fingers. You leaned forward, letting your lips slide over the head, taking him into your mouth. The taste of him filled your senses as you sucked gently, hollowing your cheeks to create a soft, warm pressure. You glanced up at him, seeking approval, but he tapped a finger on the camera he held just above you.

“Look there.” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You shifted your gaze to the lens, the cold glass reflecting your flushed face as you focused on pleasing him. For a moment, he let you take control, your hand moving in time with your mouth as you worked him over, exploring the smooth, velvety skin, the way he pulsed against your tongue. You could hear his breathing change, a quiet approval that fueled your movements.

But then, his hand brushed yours away, taking hold of his cock himself. You felt a surge of anticipation as he took over, his hips thrusting forward in a steady, unyielding rhythm. He drove himself deeper into your mouth, pushing past your comfort zone, until you felt the head of his cock brushing the back of your throat. The sudden force made you choke, your throat constricting around him as you fought to keep up, to take him as deeply as he wanted.

A few tears welled up in your eyes, escaping down your cheeks as you struggled to adjust, to breathe around the fullness of him. Sensing your struggle, he pulled out abruptly, the sudden emptiness almost as jarring as the force of his thrusts.

“What’s the matter, dolly?” he asked, his voice laced with mock concern as he used his fingers to wipe away the stray tears that clung to your lashes.

“Wasn’t ready.” you managed to gasp, your voice barely above a whisper.

His expression softened, but only slightly. “Be ready…action.” he ordered as he guided himself back to your mouth, the tip of his cock pressing against your lips once more. “Take it properly. Make me proud.”

You swallowed down your nerves, opening wide and bracing yourself as he slid back in. This time, you were prepared, your throat relaxing as best as it could to accommodate him. His grip tightened in your hair as he began to thrust again, deep and demanding, each movement forcing you to take more of him, to push yourself further for his satisfaction.

He began to fuck into your mouth with a steady rhythm, brushing the back of your throat with every thrust. It wasn’t too fast or rough, just enough to make your throat tickle each time he reached that sensitive spot. The sensation was overwhelming but in a way that made you want more, made you want to take him deeper, to prove you could handle it.

But just as you found a rhythm, just as your body started to adjust, he pulled out abruptly. The sudden emptiness made you gasp for air again, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. A thin strand of spit still connected you to him, a glistening thread that hung in the air between you. Alex smirked as he reached down, breaking the strand off with his hand, watching as it fell away.

He shifted the camera, angling it down at his cock, capturing the wetness your mouth had left on him. He stroked himself slowly, letting the lens see every detail, every glistening drop, every slick slide of his hand over his length.

“That was good.” he murmured, more to himself than to you, his voice satisfied as he stopped the recording momentarily.

He set the camera down on the small coffee table nearby, placing it carefully as if it were something precious. Then he turned away, walking through the room with an almost aimless air, his gaze drifting over the furniture, the walls, as if he were inspecting something, or maybe just lost in thought.

You seized the opportunity, reaching for the camera with a quiet determination. You couldn’t resist, not with the way he’d looked, not with the lingering taste of him still on your lips. You brought the camera up, filming him as he moved, the lens capturing the lines of his body, the tension in his muscles, the way he carried himself with that same effortlessness.

He noticed the camera on him and turned around, his eyes narrowing slightly in amusement. “Where do you wanna fuck?” he asked, his tone casual, like it was just another decision to be made.

You met his gaze through the viewfinder, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “You tell me, mister director,” you teased, drawing out the last words before adding, “Alexander.”

The name lingered in the air between you, and you saw the flash of something in his eyes. Approval. Desire. Maybe a bit of both. He took a step closer, his expression shifting as the roles reversed again, the director now back in control.

“Okay.” he said with a thoughtful nod, acting like he was making a very important decision. “I want to fuck you on the piano.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What piano?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

“There’s the big one in the other room.” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Before you could ask anything else, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to take the camera from you. He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough that the anticipation between you hummed like electricity.

“Come on.” he urged with a smirk, stepping back just enough to let you move past him. “Ladies first.”

You hesitated only for a moment before you started walking, the idea of what was to come spurring you forward. As you walked, you couldn’t resist the urge to look back over your shoulder. He was right behind you, but instead of keeping pace, he had slowed down, deliberately falling behind so he could get a better angle.

The camera was trained on you, the lens fixed on your ass as you moved through the room. His eyes, too, were glued to the sight of you, the weight of his gaze a palpable thing, making your skin tingle. The way he watched you, the way he filmed you, was almost as intimate as his touch, as he was capturing every moment, every movement for himself, for later.

The anticipation curled tighter inside you, your breath hitching as you felt the growing heat of his attention. You couldn’t help but sway your hips a little more with each step, knowing he was watching, knowing the camera was catching every detail. You reached the doorway to the other room and paused, looking back at him again, your lips curving into a playful smile as you caught him red-handed.

“Enjoying the view?” you teased, though the question was more a statement of fact than anything else.

He didn’t answer, but the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips was enough to tell you that he was, indeed, enjoying every second of it. He motioned for you to keep going, the camera still focused on you, capturing the way the light played off your skin as you led the way to the piano, your pulse quickening with each step.

You stepped up to the piano, eyes drawn to it and the way it was dominating the space. Curious, you pressed a couple of the ivory keys, the sound that emerged surprisingly not too horrible to your untrained ears, though it was clear you had no idea what you were doing. Music had never been your forte, despite quite literally dating a musician.

Alex followed close behind, and as you turned to face him, he carefully closed the fall board over the keys with a soft click, ensuring there would be no more accidental notes interrupting what was about to happen. He placed the camera down gently on the closed lid, abandoning it for a moment as he focused on a more important task.

His hands found your hips, the touch firm and almost possessive as he pulled you against him, sliding back to cup your ass in his palms. He squeezed, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp softly, the sensation shooting straight through you. Then he kissed you, his lips capturing yours with an urgency that made your knees weaken, his tongue slipping into your mouth, claiming you as he pulled you even closer. You could feel his fingers teasing the lace trim of your panties, slipping just underneath the fabric, feeling the soft skin beneath.

He pulled back slightly, his lips hovering just above yours as he whispered, “You know I always think you’re pretty, right?”

The words were simple, but the way he said them made your heart skip a beat. You barely had time to nod before he was guiding you backward, his hands steady and sure as he led you toward the edge of the piano. The cool wood pressed against your skin as he continued to nudge you back, his hands never leaving your body.

“Sit.” he encouraged, his voice a quiet command that sent a thrill down your spine.

With a gentle push, he encouraged you to sit on it, helping you up. The edge dug slightly into the back of your thighs as you shuffled back, moving until you were sitting properly. The piano’s surface was smooth beneath you, a stark contrast to the rough need simmering. He stood between your legs, his gaze fixed on you, his hands still on your hips.

He grabbed the camera once more, bringing it up to capture every detail of the moment as his hand slid down your chest. His touch was slow, tracing the curve of your breasts, before pushing you back gently, encouraging you to lie down on the cool, polished surface. The slight pressure of his hand guided you, your back meeting the smooth wood.

His hand moved lower, fingertips brushing over your stomach until they reached the hem of your panties. He paused there, his eyes following the movement of his hand as he toyed with the tiny pink bow in the middle, twisting it between his fingers with a playful smirk. The sight of his large hand playing with that delicate detail made your breath hitch, anticipation building as he hooked his fingers into the waistband and began to tug them down your legs.

As they reached your ankles, he caught them before they could fall to the floor. Carefully, he placed the white lace on the surface next to you, adding to the visual allure of the scene.

Satisfied with the arrangement, he put the camera down again, ready to focus on you, needing both hands free to devote all of his attention to you. But you reached for it before he could. You couldn’t resist the urge to take control for a moment, to see the world through the lens as he saw it.

He didn't seem to mind. In fact, the corner of his mouth lifted in a small, approving smirk as he lowered himself to kiss the inside of your thigh. You adjusted the camera, pointing it down at him as he leaned in, his lips making contact with the inside of your thigh.

The sensation of his beard against your skin was both rough and tantalisingly soft. You could feel the rasp of it as he kissed his way up your inner thigh.

When his lips finally met your core, he left a soft kiss there. The intimacy of the moment was magnified through the lens, the camera capturing the way he looked up at you, as he held your gaze through the viewfinder.

He didn’t hesitate as he began to lick at you, his tongue moving with an unhurried precision that made your whole body tense with pleasure. His hands held your thighs firmly, keeping you in place as he worked. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but writhe beneath him, your back arching slightly off the piano as the pressure built inside you.

You managed to gasp out a question between breathless moans. “When do we get to the climax of the plot?”

He paused just long enough to lift his head, a smirk playing on his glistening lips. “Have patience, baby,” he murmured, “I need this.”

With that, he dove back in, his mouth reclaiming its place against your core. This time, his movements were more intense, his tongue delving deeper, lapping at you with a hunger that left you gasping.

Each stroke of his tongue, each subtle change in pressure, was designed to drive you wild, to draw out your pleasure until you were trembling under him. The heat in his eyes matched the fire in your belly. You couldn’t look away. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place as you instinctively tried to buck against him, your body desperate for more, for everything.

The need in his eyes mirrored the need building inside you, the pressure mounting. It was almost unbearable, the way he kept you on the edge, pushing you closer and closer to the brink without letting you fall over. But even as the desperation clawed at you, you couldn’t help but give in, letting him take what he needed.

Alex snatched the camera back from you with a quick motion, the lens focusing intently as he pulled back, capturing the view of the wet mess that had pooled at your entrance. His fingers moved over the slick, glistening folds, spreading the moisture around with a slowness that made you squirm.

“Will you talk to me in French while you fuck me?” you teased.

He glanced up, a smirk on his lips. “I don’t even know how you say ‘fuck’ in French.” he replied with a playful shrug, his gaze shifting back to the viewfinder.

As he spoke, he guided his cock to your pussy, his eyes locked on the camera as he filmed the moment. He positioned himself carefully, his thick head pressing against your entrance as he started to push inside. The lens captured every detail, the way he stretched you, the slow motion of his cock sliding into you.

“Fuck.” he moaned as he finally entered you, the sound of his voice mixed with the low, guttural pleasure he felt from the tight, warm embrace of your body.

He continued to film, holding the camera as steady as he could as he began to thrust, the details of your connection laid bare for the lens to see. The combination of his body’s rhythm and the camera’s unblinking gaze made the scene even more intense, every sound and sight magnified as he lost himself in the feeling of you, in the undeniable connection between you both.

“Oh god.” Alex groaned.

In his haze, he set the camera down, but the action was rougher than intended, the device slamming onto the piano with a loud thud. Neither of you cared, too caught up in the moment.

He reached for you, strong hands pulling you up from the smooth surface of the piano until your chest was flush against his. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, ankles locking behind him as you clung to his shoulders. His grip on you was firm, one arm wrapped tightly around your back while the other supported you under your thigh.

Without a word, he started moving back, his cock still buried deep inside you. The room seemed to spin slightly, your senses overloaded as he carried you with ease. As he walked away, he reached out to turn the camera slightly from where it had landed, a half-hearted attempt to capture more of what was happening. But you could see the shift in his focus, the way he no longer cared as much about the filming. He was too consumed by the feel of you wrapped around him.

He moved until his back hit the wall with a solid thud, the impact making you gasp against his neck. With his body braced against the wall, his hands freed up to grip your hips tightly, he began to thrust into you again. The change in angle meant he could get deeper. And you clung to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as you moaned his name.

The pace he set was relentless now, fast and rough, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge. His breath was hot and heavy against your skin, his groans filling your ear as he pounded into you, each thrust bringing you both closer to release.

It consumed you both, everything narrowing down to the feeling of him inside you, the sound of your breathless moans, and the way your bodies moved together. The tension built with every stroke, every frantic heartbeat, until there was nothing left but the inevitable release that came crashing down over you both.

You buried your head under his chin, seeking comfort in his closeness and he took the opportunity to press his face in your hair, his breath mingling with the scent of your skin. The moment was a blur, highlighted by his body shuddering as he let out a soft groan, the warmth of his release flooding inside you. You could feel the wet mess already beginning to slide down your legs, mingling with the sweat that dripped down both your thighs and his, though it was hard to tell what was what in the heat of the moment. He couldn’t discern whether it was his cum or simply sweat dampening his legs, but he didn’t care either way.

His knees nearly gave out, and for a moment, it seemed like he might drop you. But he quickly adjusted his grip with a grunt, his arms tightening around you as he carefully lowered himself to the floor. You landed on his lap, the sudden shift making you acutely aware of the pulsing warmth of his cock, which had slipped out but was still pressing against your thigh, making you aware of every subtle twitch.

Despite the mess and the precariousness of the position, he didn’t move you. His breathing was ragged, the exertion of the moment evident in every breath he took. As he steadied himself, catching his breath, he looked down at you with a mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion.

“And…cut.” he said, his voice a little breathless but still carrying that familiar authoritative tone. The command was as much a signal of the end of the recording session as it was a release of the tension that had built up. The camera was still rolling, capturing the aftermath of the scene.

a/n: i don’t like how this turned out. i guess it’s alright but meh.

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #smut #goblinontour #what would dolly do

101 notes · View notes