#anyone notice that the second my migraines got bad again i started having Thoughts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rcksmith · 4 years ago

Text

I want to do bad things with you — Five Hargreeves

Request: “6 from fluff and 4 and 8 from smut list for five hargreeves?”

Fluff Prompts:

6. “I’m going to marry you one day.”

Smut Prompts;

4. “Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.”

8. “I don’t care how good it feels you’d better not cum until I tell you to.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope it got close to what you wanted. ❤️ This is a heavy smut, I was in a bad mood, sorry jsnsjsnsjsn.

Guys, I really understand who doesn't feel comfortable reading or writing Five's smut. But I always say that I only write with him (any genre: romance, fluff or angst) with the notion that Five is 20 years old here. All of my fanfics mention swearing or sex, even if it is a memory or something shallow, but as I am writing with Five as an adult, it is consistent that the fic has aspects of an adult life.//

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, bad words and bad smuut.

— — — — —

Five Hargreeves were many adjectives. Genius, superhero, handsome, dangerous, sinic, arrogant, born leader, among other things. His energy was intense and mysterious, and looking him for too long was like facing the stormy sea: dangerous and risky, but extremely fascinating.

He carried many adjectives on his back, is truth, and domineering was one of them. His life was a constant line of stress, problems and exasperation, Five felt irritated most of the time, so relieving all that stress in sex was... it was fucking good.

Normally, his emotions were always on a tight leash, under iron control. Five was composed, controlled, taking everything rationally. Even in sex, when he vented all his anger, he was conscious. Until you show up.

You were a little, sweet, lyrical little thing and... fuck, you had an angel face that made Five clench his jaw as soon as he laid eyes on you. And then controlling yourself became a much more difficult task. You had a cunning, catlike look, but an face so pure that it hooked Five into the his soul.

He couldn't get involved with you, he repeated that every fucking day. Five could barely look in your direction without wanting to hold your angel face and kiss you with the fury of hell. Five wanted to fold you in front of him, slap your ass until you blush and hear you whimpering his name. He wanted to do all the dark things in his mind to break your doll energy.

Five Hargreeves was many things, but the irony of all was how they swayed when he fell in love with you. It was inevitable. Over the months, while trying to control his thoughts, he found himself admiring your intelligence and sense of humor. He started to notice how you loved sweet tea and had headaches when you had coffee, which is why he started to leave a migraine medicine in the kitchen if you needed to.

With the days, Five now hid his smile when you laughed at something stupid and admired how the world seemed sweeter when you were happy.

And that's when he kissed you. And his whole view changed. When he held your face between his hands and tasted your lips, Five felt like he was touching Egyptian crystal, and then the urge to protect you was born. He didn't want anything or anyone to hurt you, anyway. Five touched you so delicately and made sure that nothing bothered you.

So that's when you two slept together. Fuck, it was so fucking hard for him. Extraordinarily difficult because Five wanted to make you scream and fuck you so hard. It was difficult as hell because he wanted to hit your ass and thigh so hard that he could see the marks tomorrow. And... son of a bitch, even though you moaned and squirmed, you looked like a fucking angel. And the desire to desecrate something so pure became even bigger.

And that was why he avoided touching you during those hours. He kept his hands on the mattress, on the headboard, on the walls or on the pillows, avoided touching you as much as possible. Because Five knew... it was already too hard not to fuck you rough, hard and intense, if he touched you... it would be the end. He didn't even want to kiss you too much, or suck on your skin, because one thing would lead to another and... God, you fucked his mind!

It was after a few months that he realized he loved you. And your relationship will become even more serious.

"I love you so much.” You whispered on his lips one day, with the cold and rain falling outside, and you curled in him up like a pet.

Five nodded, him lips on you forehead, brushing them there as appreciated what that phrase did to him. You two had already said that a few months ago, but you loved to keep repeating it and Five appreciated how right the universe felt when you said that.

“I'm going to marry you one day.” He sighed through your hair, lowering lips to yours before receiving your ecstatic and passionate screams.

But the more love grew in you two, the more hunger, lust and sin grew within Five too. Was like a wild beast, hitting the bars of the cage, almost breaking what kept under control. And controlle herself started to be physically painful. So he tried to put out that blazing fire.

Seeing you naked has become excruciating torture. Five fidgeted uneasily whenever you changed in front of him, took off the towel after a shower. But the worst was when you two had sex. Fucking you, feeling you pulsing, squirming, totally submissive to his whims, made Five have to acquire phenomenal self-control. Although Five exhibited a cold, arrogant and confident personality, everything inside him became a boiling volcano when you appeared.

“Baby…” That was when Five heard you purring, you had just come out of the shower, a short white towel covering your body.

When Five looked at you, and saw you walking towards him, he pulse reached alarming levels. Normally, Five always managed to keep his impulses under control, even though it was an overwhelming endeavor. But not today.

Oh, he was far from being in control. Your doe eyes looked at him docilely and Five felt again the overwhelming appetite to take you so badly.

God, he needed to break you…

You didn't make it easy for Five either. Oblivious to the internal battle within him, you sat on his lap, supporting your legs on either side of his hips, with the towel rising to the top of your thighs and your bare skin sitting on his already pulsating member.

Five snarled softly, hands tightly squeezing the bed sheet, your body pulsing beneath his. He felt hot as if were in the Sahara desert.

“You are so tense.” Your voice was velvety, soft, and you brought your lips to his neck. And that was too much.

“Y/N..” Was a warning.

“Something wrong?” You pulled your face back enough to look at him.

Five shook his head, hands still clutching the sheets. You followed that gesture with your eyes, and started connecting the pieces second by second.

It was no longer today that your felt him controlling himself. Moments he didn't want to touch you at all while he fucked you, like you were a hot iron. Days when he forced a little more force into the way he kissed you and then completely backed down.

“I've been noticing a few things lately...” You commented, the left index finger playing with his uniform “I noticed that you have ... controlled yourself, as if you were holding something.”

And then you looked into his eyes, and what you saw in the green sockets was a lust so fervent that you felt yourself losing breath.

“Y/N...” the voice was still hoarse, a ring signaling his warning as well “I ... I won't be able to talk about this with you.”

“Why not?” You didn't know exactly what the problem was, how deep it went, but you knew something was going on. “I did something? Or are you more stressed? ”

“You did not do anything.” He assured you, and as he saw in your eyes that you would not let the matter pass, because you were determined as hell, Five sighed deeply. “It with me. It has nothing to do with you, I just... I like to do more... rough things. "

You were watching him closely, the direction of the conversation was pleasing to you... It wasn't today that you knew your own tastes, and something brutalized and stronger was exactly what you liked. But Five was always so controlled, so reserved, that you were still looking for an opening to bring it up.

Five must have noticed that your eyes took on a different glow, and he looked at you as if he suspected.

“Why that look?” His little corner smile made you smile too.

“ I didn't know you liked things like that.” Five raised an eyebrow at you, the little smile still on his face. “Is that why you have been controlling yourself?”

Five had to take a deep breath, hands going to your waist under the towel, in a soft, controlled touch. But his hands were stiff, you felt it.

“I do not want to hurt you.” He was succinct “I have more aggressive, brutal desires, and I don't want to take it out on you.”

Oh, you were really enjoying the conversation.

You let out a low chuckle, playing with your index finger on the lapel of his uniform.

“Like ... hit me and stuff?” Then you felt his grip tighten on your waist, his jaw tighten.

Five looked at you with a clear warning that you were walking in rough waters. That it was better for you to stop here. He could barely cope with his own thoughts about it, let alone hear you say those things with that fucking angelic voice of yours.

"What if I wanted to?” Now your eyes were bright with amusement and anticipation.

“You can't tell me these things” His grip got stronger, his eyes more fierce, the energy more irritable “Even more naked in my lap.”

Five might be covered in clothes, but he could feel your hot pussy under him, the soft skin of your thighs around his waist, your breasts a touch away... Damn, it was too much for him!

“I mean it.” You ran your fingers through his hair, resting your hands behind the back of his neck. “I like something hard too, if you are willing to try this on me, I would like us to do it. You are always so focused... I would love to see you more out of control. ”

Five kept his eyes on you, as if he were looking for some hesitation in you. But he found none. Just shared desire.

God help him.

“Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.” He wanted to warn you, he wanted you to know it was a path of no return. Five could destroy you and him wanted you to know that.

“Yes.” You agreed “I want it so much.”

Suddenly, something in the air seemed to change. Everything became rarer, more caustic and crackling. Five's intensity had reached extremely high levels and he looked at you as if you were the prey on a night hunt. Five pulled harder on your towel, freeing your naked body. He gasped, his eyes fixed on you.

“Say red when you want me to stop.”

You were going to say something, but he didn't give you a chance. His hungry lips stuck to yours. It was a controlling kiss, drowning out you surprised moan. Five stood with you on his lap and threw you on your back on the mattress. You gasped, your naked body exposed on his bed, given over to all the profane fantasies he had in mind. Seeing you there, submissive, destroyed all the control he had.

Oh he was going to destroy you.

Five remained standing, pulled your legs over the edge of the bed and opened them aggressively. You let out a heavy breath, the core pulsing. God, seeing that made him rock hard.

Five leaned over your body, pressing his lips in you before moving to your breasts, sucking on aching nipple, squeezing the other in a heavy touch. His hands left you for a second before him straightened up and removed he blazer and sweater from the academy, his nimble hands pulled the tie knot fiercely, tearing the piece of silk from his neck.

“Be quiet for me, dear.” Five put your hands together, tying your fists with the tie and tying the tie to the headboard.

You bit your lip, your body fidgeting for him, the core throbbing. Five had barely touched you and you were already pulsing for him.

“You are so needy.”

Without warning, he was leaning over you, him lips on yours, his hands roaming your body in a rough touch, his mouth pinching your lips. And everything started to get heavy after that point. Five closed his mouth on your neck, leaving a trail of purple hickeys as he brought two fingers to your mouth.

You took them in, sucking without waiting for an order. But his fingers on your mouth seemed to have an even more exciting effect for you. You legs closed, wanting to seek any friction, but Five slapped your left thigh roughly, brutally separating them with his free hand.

“Did I tell you to close your legs?!” You whimpered, and he gave you another slap “Answer!”

“N-no...” You did your best to speak with his fingers in your mouth.

“No what?!” Another slap. Now you could feel the flesh throbbing. You pulled on your fists, trying to control yourself not to close your thighs again.

“N-didn't”

Now his free hand went to your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“It's ‘No, Daddy’!”

“No, Daddy!”

“Good Girl.”

Five withdrew his hand from your mouth, bringing it down and melting it into your pussy. You moaned louder, forcing the tie, shifting your hips. He didn't give you time to breathe before he buried his fingers in you, hitting your walls.

You screeched muffled by his lips on your, as his hand pushed against you frantically, slamming inside you at a brutal pace.

“F-fi...”

Another slap. Stronger, more aggressive.

“What did fucking you say?!”

“Daddy! I mean Daddy! I’m so sorry.”

He accelerated his hand even more, and you started frantically pulling on the tie, trying to get rid of or gain more of that ardor. You were starting to feel close to orgasms when Five pulled away, slapping your bare breast as he rose again. You whimpered in protest, your hips still making some movements in search of some ghost friction.

“Look at you, so desperate and I haven't even fucked you yet.” Five began to unbutton his white shirt, stripping off his clothes and leaving the belt beside you.

You excitement went to extremely high levels when you saw his cock jump out. Pulsating, molasses with pre-cum and dashed with thick veins. Your core throbbed, dripping your liquid while you whimpered.

Five smirked when he noticed where your attention was, and he leaned you, but now bringing the belt with him and placing it around your neck.

God, he was going to fuck you so hard.

Five gave a tug, testing the accuracy, and when you groaned needy, Five appeased his own excitement by sinking his bruised lips into yours.

He stood up again, pulling your legs closer to the edge as he brushed your pussy with the throbbing head of the stick, watching you squirm. It was torture for him too, but the sight of you struggling for contact was a fucking reward.

“Please d-Daddy!” You whimpered, rummaging in despair, wanting more of anything he give you.

“Please, what? ‘Please, daddy, fuck me hard’ or ‘please, daddy, use me’ ?”

You were begging, with tears in the corners of your eyes as he played with you, by sinking the head of the stick inside you. It was driving you crazy. Five held the base of him penis while he sank just another inch into you, then pulled and rubbed your clitoris.

“Fuck me h-hard, Daddy!”

Suddenly, Five entered you brutally to the bottom, leaving you speechless in a loud and silent groan. He pulled you by the belt, not giving you time to get used to the size, he established strong and aggressive blows.

“Do you want hard?! I will give you hard!”

Then Five untied the tie from the headboard, turned you brutally on you stomach and pulled your hips up. He pulled his hand back and unloaded it on your ass, and you screamed, staggering forward. Five pulled you by the hips, dissatisfied with your distance.

“Be good girl for me, dear." It was an order.

You obeyed, crying out loudly when Five pushed the stick inside you aggressively, pulling on your neck with the belt. He held you by the belt and the waist while he fucked you. Hard, fast, without any abandonment.

His hand hit the flesh of your ass from second to second, and you can't help but moan for it. He gave no respite, the sound of his bodies colliding flooded the room, perhaps the entire mansion.

Five has never felt so hardcore in life, so hungry, so lust. He wanted to break you, hurt you, squeeze your flesh so hard that you would be left with marks for months. He groaned, trying to concentrate on mistreating the walls of your pussy, pounding with brutality, harder and cruel.

“D-d-daddy!”

Tears streamed into your eyes as you dug your nails into the pillow hard, unable to contain the moans and the tremor in your thighs. Your belly vibrated, hummed with hyperstimulation, that was paradise and sin at the same time and you felt that you could fall apart at any moment.

Five pulled the belt tight, bringing you up and sticking your back to his chest. He put his free arm around your waist, bringing the thrusts in slow, hard rhythms, making you feel every inch of him.

You hands went to him arm around your waist, the new position reaching the most sensitive places, making your pussy throb. You bit your lip to try to control your moans, because you were afraid they would be too loud.

“Without trapping those sounds for me!” This time the slap came down on your left breast, followed by a deeper thrust, and you begged for excuses while looking for air “Let everyone hear who's making you feel so good! Who does this slutt belong.”

That pushed you further into the abyss. Five sucked on the skin on your neck, pouring out a strong hickey while you could only scream and whimper for him, unable to do anything else. . He entered you deeply, taking whatever inch you had and forcing you to take it deeper.

Five did not allow you to move an inch away, your hips clinging to his, held by his arm, him fucking you hard without you can moving your hips. He could feel you blinking on his dick, making your honey drip down your thighs. His hunger had given no respite, and when he looked at you, and he saw your angel face in an expression of pleasure, pain and dirty with tears, it further fueled Five's hunger.

"That, little slutt!"

You were close, pulsing on his dick, sweat running down your body, your broken moans. Five loved how you were a mess for him, your whole body scarred because of him. He never fell your owner as much as he does now. You begged for something you didn't know what it was, but Five did. And he would give it to you. But he felt your pussy squeeze him, swallowing him in a broken way.

“You can't come until I let you!”

“Da-daddy!” You moaned louder “Please! Please! I need... I need it! ”

“I don’t care how good it feels, you’d better not cum until I tell you to!”

Five came out of you, turning you brutally on the bed once again, removing the belt from your neck. He climbed on top of you, now sticking your body to his, placing his mouth on yours in a gasping kiss. The skin-to-skin sensation was maddening, you were both hot, sweating, and Five squeezed your thigh tightly before slapping it down again. Your wrists were still tied, and you could only press them against his broad chest.

Your thighs were shaking and Five was delighted by this, he traced hickeys all over your breasts, and sank into you again when he sucked on your left sore beak.

Five held you while he fucked you in that position. Strong, cruel and hard. His hands were glued to your flesh, marking your skin with purple from his digits, holding his own moans. And you watched him with your mouth open by the screams and the sight. He was beautiful like that. Wild, his skin all sweaty, his teeth closed on his lip to keep from groaning, his black hair stuck to his forehead.

It was too much torture, too much stimulation, and you were already letting the tears flow while you were begging for something.

“Come to me, my good girl.”

Five didn't have to say it twice. You came intensely, your pussy sucking all of his cock and receiving the hot, thick liquid of his as a reward. You threw your head back in abandonment, feeling him it sink into you deeper, making sure you got all his sperm.

“Such a good girl for me.” Five whispered as he gave you a reward kiss you.

2K notes · View notes

niskoo · 3 years ago

Text

[16:49]

pairing: boyfriend! Heeseung x reader (sick! reader)

genre: fluff

warnings: illness omg i swear its just a fever not covid

word count: 1.1k words

a/n: hello there!! another heeseung request woAh yall really whipped for this man huh thank you anon for another heeseung request!! this one was very cute to write <33 i literally wrote like half of this legit just now because i felt bad for taking too long aaa </3 bUT TYSM TO ANON FOR THE REQUEST HIHIHI YES I LIKED WRITING THIS

feel free to request and help get rid of my writers block!

You never want to admit that anyone was right, especially when it came to your boyfriend (who is always right). But this time, you can't help but think of how right he was. You sniffle back a sneeze as you hug yourself tighter, regretting your choices of running out in the rain.

Though it definitely was fun, you should've been careful.

Now here you are, at home, skipping classes because you have a fever. Heeseung was currently in class, he warned if you got up and went to campus he would drop class and drive you back home.

Groans erupt from your throat when you feel extra cold that minute, burying yourself further into the bedsheets. You want nothing but to sleep and feel better, and some of Heeseung's cuddles, nothing is as good as his cuddles.

Fortunately, Heeseung cuddles were on the way, as your boyfriend entered the apartment with a loud yell stating how you should be in bed, which you are.

He comes into your room and quickly as he had come into the apartment, tossing his jacket somewhere on the floor. "Gosh Y/n, why is it so dark in here?"

You can only sniffle and groan back, thrashing around the bed like a child being woken up in the morning. Heeseung chuckles at your vulnerable form, a teasing smile grazing his face as he approaches you, “What is it baby?”

You hate it when you’re sick, one reason being how shitty you feel, but the primary reason is because Heeseung would baby you and tease you all day. As much as you claimed to hate it, a part of you knew you loved how caring he was and how much he tried to cheer you up.

Your boyfriend caresses your warm cheek in adoration, “Have you taken your medicine?” You sigh into Heeseung’s touch, shaking your head in disappointment, “No, whenever I tried to I just got too dizzy,”

Heeseung coos at that, carefully helping you sit up and against the headboard of your bed. He notices how tired you look, with your pale face and permanent pained look on his face, and he grows guilty. He knows how much you hate getting sick. How much you long to go out and do normal things without getting sick the next second. But it is your fault, after all.

Heeseung sighs and brushes your hair from your face, bringing his fingers up to massage your scalp and temple diligently. A satisfied grin grows on his face when your expressions visibly relax and you lean into his touch.

A sudden strike of nausea floods your mind, causing you to whimper painfully and lean forward and onto Heeseung’s shoulder. It echoes through your head and spreads through your body, your lungs starting to quicken their work as you start to pant.

“Oh, love,” Heeseung mumbles out in sympathy, hands lowering to caress and rub your back soothingly, shushing you lovingly and whispering encouragement into your ear, “Shh, come on love, let’s calm down and take that medicine.”

Lucky for you, your boyfriend’s friends were nice enough to buy the medicine and take it to you when Heeseung was busy tutoring a junior. Jake really made sure you would get some sleep, and Niki even made Jungwon jump and run around the room, claiming it would work because he’s a sheep garden. It did not help at all.

You take in a deep breath, channeling your inner relaxation, before nodding and slowly removing yourself from Heeseung’s shoulder. Your eyes stay shut as you lean back onto the headboard, suppressing the incoming migraine, and quickly gesture to the medicine on your night stand.

The next thing you know, Heeseung is carefully guiding the spoonful of medicine into your mouth, quietly mumbling a small ‘aaah’. He wipes the little drop of medicine on your bottom lip as soon as you swallow, rubbing comforting circles on your thigh.

“Have you eaten?” Reluctantly, you shake your head and lick your lips, looking up at Heeseung with guilty eyes. He only chuckles, kissing your warm forehead, “It’s okay, I’ll make us some ramen.” With one last peck at your nose, your boyfriend gets up to start his journey of making your lunch—or dinner—linner? He doesn’t know.

“Get some more rest, baby, you really need it,” and the room is silent and dark yet once again as you are left alone in it, with your awful headache that starts to invade your thoughts. Even worse, you’re starting to feel cold, and your nose is starting to go runny as well.

You sniffle, and flop back into your bed, burying yourself beneath the covers in hopes of your headache going away. You stay there for what felt like just a few moments, your head pounding in pain. It throbs and pulses throughout your body, causing you to grow more and more distressed.

That is, until you hear the melodious voice of your significant other, and the smell of your favorite ramen you grew to love after it was suggested by Sunoo. Your mind instantly calms down, the ‘la’s and ‘li’s that leave Heeseung’s lips replace all discomfort in your mind, swarming all over your body like relief when you realize you have indeed finished your homework a day before it’s due.

You make the decision of getting out of bed to go help Heeseung with the ramen, walking quite quickly despite being sick. You enter your living room, where you can hear Heeseung clearer, and it gives you more motivation to join him in the kitchen.

That’s exactly what you do, you quickly embrace yourself around Heeseung’s back, squishing your face back into his shoulder.

“Oh? Baby?” Instantly, Heeseung turns around to cradle you to his chest, “Baby you’re not supposed to be out of bed!”

“Wanted to help you,”

Your boyfriend sighs and places a lingering kiss to your forehead, before quickly detaching himself from you, just to peel his sweater off him. He pulls it down your head, helping you into the material.

A growing grin is the second thing keeping you warm, the third being Heeseung’s sweater, and the very first being his hold on your face as he peppers small pecks all over your cheeks.

“Go to the couch, love, I’ll meet you there with our food.”

You spend the day eating ramen on the couch, watching a few cartoons you used to watch as kids. You use your excuse of being cold and sick to cuddle Heeseung, nodding off to sleep on his body as he threads his fingers through your hair and keeping his lips pressed against your hair.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen timestamps #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #lee heeseung #lee heeseung blurbs #lee heeseung fluff #lee heeseung scenarios #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung imagines #lee heeseung drabbles

210 notes · View notes

soliverse · 4 years ago

Text

don’t call me - k.dy

(sequel to call me a fool. you can read this by itself, but some references would make more sense if you read the first part.)

reader x bestfriend!doyoung

genre: so much angst, slight fluff

warnings: none

word count: 3.85k

synopsis: Doyoung missed an important milestone in your life. Now, it’s your turn to miss his calls.

prompt:

Ghost Of You by 5 Seconds of Summer, part of the Heartbreak Hotel collab by @nct-writers

dedication to:

@hunjins for leaving witty comments during beta reading

@johnyusangel for being my guardian angel during beta and when I was dying over a migraine + Qian Kun

@hxneyy-latte for nursing me back to health lol

taglist: @kunrengui (sorry this took a while 😔), @leolo404 @byeolhyesisi @thesongofdragons

networks: @nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape @kwritersworld @culture-cafe @neowritingsnet @neoswitchnet @czennienet @nct-writers

Every day, your routine starts with staring at your phone for a few hours before getting out of bed. You'd check in all of your messaging apps to see if any of them came from Doyoung. Sadly, there's none of it this morning.

You would drag your mopey ass out of bed and start the day with dread, questioning why he hasn’t replied to your last text. Then, as you brush your teeth, you would check once again to see if you missed anything while you are preoccupied with oral hygiene.

The inbox notifications would still say zero. And then you'd wait… and wait… and wait some more hours, even days before he replies back.

Every time Doyoung refuses to reply to your messages soon, you get this sudden urge to bang your head into a wall, cursing yourself for texting him in the first place. You will then start to question your life choices, why you even texted him in the first place when you knew this is bound to happen. And that you probably sounded too clingy, too cheesy for his liking. Your thoughts filled as to why he refused to reply as soon as he could.

You sighed and placed your phone back into your pocket and proceeded to go on with your day. The academy is about to open and you have practice for your upcoming recital the following day.

You kept your phone around your vicinity even as you practiced. It's a good thing that your vocal mentor isn't here to point out your mistakes, but you're trying to hit every note as clean as you can. A feat that is impossible to do when you're completely distracted by something.

Doyoung: Hey.

That one word is enough to wash all of the worries that you had earlier. You once again attempted to bang your head into the wall, now cursing yourself for changing your emotions so quickly.

You kept your phone back at your table, practicing for a few more minutes before answering the text. This time, you sang with a smile on your lips, the burden of your worries suddenly lifted with a single word.

But that's just how it always is with you and your best friend.

Now, if you can only tell him how you feel.

///

You bowed at everyone for doing a great job at practice. You happily fished out your phone from your pocket to reply to Doyoung's earlier text.

You: Are you free this Saturday?

You placed your phone down for a moment to fix your stuff, but a ding! interrupted you midway and you just couldn’t help but look at his reply.

Doyoung: Not at all. Need help with something?

Your smile grew wider and you texted the details of your recital for Saturday. You've worked on the piece so hard that you wanted to share your success with him, just like he would share his with you.

The rest of the day went smoothly. It was full of wishful thinking and daydreams. And if it goes well, it might be the day that you tell him about how you really feel about him.

///

It was the day of the recital and your hands were shaking out of nervousness. Your grip on the mic was getting tighter, if not sweatier, as you heard the crowds forming outside to see you and your classmates perform.

The soundcheck commenced and they started calling all the participants by their name as they came on stage. You heard nothing besides your own heartbeat and your loud thoughts whenever you overthink. But you reassured yourself that you will do a good job.

You had to. Someone was watching and you wanted to make him proud.

Fiddling on your seat, you waited for a few numbers before it was your turn. You nervously walked out the stage, and you were blinded by the lights coming from the back of the theater. It was probably for the good.

You couldn’t see anyone’s faces.

You couldn’t see his face.

Because if you could, you would’ve choked on your words and hit the notes wrong once again. Thankfully, the performance went better than you expected.

As soon as everyone came together for the curtain call, your eyes wandered to see Doyoung among the crowds. You scanned left and right, but there were no signs of him everywhere in the theater.

You consoled yourself with the fact that he probably went to the bathroom, or he was already backstage waiting for you. He couldn’t possibly miss this day, right?

The first thing that you did after coming down the stage was to have a closer look at the seats, just to make sure that he really was there in the crowd. Everyone else had their families with them, their friends, their lovers.

But there were no signs of Doyoung in the crowd.

You tried hard to smile as everyone who passed by you congratulated you for doing a great job. But once again, you were distracted. Your mind was occupied with thoughts that you never expected to have that day.

Did he really forget about you?

Giving up completely, you made your way back backstage and hid your impending tears to everyone. On your way, you saw Johnny, waving a small bouquet of flowers to get your attention. This sparked a tiny bit of hope in you. If Johnny was around, then Doyoung must have been here somewhere, too.

You ran towards Johnny and gave him the tightest bear hug. You were worried that no one really watched you perform today. Your family lives abroad and they couldn’t make it to watch you, but you promised them that you will send them a video of you singing. You were really counting on Doyoung not only to watch you perform, but to film your performance as well.

He must have been here somewhere.

“Thank God you came. I thought nobody saw me perform earlier,” you were once again on the verge of crying, but you didn’t have the heart to ask Johnny if Doyoung was indeed with him.

“Doyoung couldn’t make it today. He had to go out with the whole crew of his drama to celebrate their last day together. I came as soon as I heard about your performance.”

You fell quiet, breathing deep to hide your tears and your disappointment. But Johnny knew how you felt, so he pulled you tighter against him, completely encasing you completely on his embrace. “Don’t feel sad. You did so well today.”

///

Ever since then, you stopped taking calls from Doyoung. He would persistently call and text you every night to say sorry. Any other day, you would’ve been glad to see that finally, he’s the one that’s trying so hard to reach you. Sadly, you’re in no mood to talk to him.

You thought it would’ve been cruel if you blocked his number from your phone, so you instead tried to text him excuses why you couldn’t talk.

You were tired. You went out with a friend. You just wanted to take some rest.

After hitting send, you tossed your phone in your bed, still feeling upset about him missing such an important day to you. You felt set aside like you’re the last person on his priority list.

That day made you realize that you’re spending way too much energy on someone that doesn’t return the favor. It was an unhealthy behavior that you need to get out of your system as soon as possible, even if that means cutting Doyoung from your life temporarily.

///

Doyoung was surprised to see you at the front door of the 127 dorm one day. You tried smiling at him as he opened the door to let you in, pretending that you were not upset with him in the previous days.

“Surprised you’re not busy today,” you remarked as you sat down, clearly aiming at Doyoung who was now feeling lost at your coldness towards him.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Not at all,” you tried your best to avoid his gaze because one look at your face would definitely give everything away. You didn’t want to lie to him, but it was better than saying that you were mad because you had feelings for him.

“Anyways, where’s Johnny? He invited me to watch a movie this afternoon.”

“Didn’t you tell me that you had practice today? That’s why you couldn’t meet me?”

You sneered internally.

“Yeah. Sometimes people say one thing and then they actually mean another thing. You of all people should know.”

You saw Johnny coming out of his room, fully dressed and ready for your movie night together. You waved one last goodbye at Doyoung, who just realized that you were roasting him the whole time.

///

The passive-aggressiveness went on for a few more occasions. You refused his attempts to talk to you, knowing full well that your cold facade would wear off instantly once you let him. You wanted to talk to him so bad, but your pride was preventing you from making any rash decisions. You couldn’t just go back to living your life as Doyoung’s doormat. But, as per Johnny’s advice, you got to explain to him why you were feeling that way. He at least deserved that much.

That explanation came sooner than you had expected.

You were spending a lot of time with Johnny lately, but only because he treats you like a little sister. He must’ve missed his own sister back at home, so he was making sure to take care of you as much as he could.

But Doyoung didn’t have to know that.

You had noticed the tension between the two of them whenever you would visit their dormitory. Johnny was just a bit irked at Doyoung because you were hurting, but he understood it from his perspective. He never knew how you felt in the first place, he wouldn’t have known how much he hurt you in the process.

What goes on in Doyoung’s brain though, you have no idea. He usually just stays away from the both of you whenever you’ve come to visit them, maybe throw in a couple of pleasantries before asking you to hang out with him once again. You kept on telling him that you will once you’re not busy with the academy, and then proceeds to forget about it on that same day.

One day, he’s finally had enough and decided to block the door when you were about to leave the dorm room.

"There's nothing to talk about Doyoung."

You tried to step out once again, but he didn't even budge from his place.

"Can you just tell me what I did? I already said sorry about not attending your recital. What else do you want me to do?"

You lowered your head and tried to leave again, determined not to answer his questions. But he's just as stubborn as you are, this time pushing you slightly, just enough to make you step back.

Your fists formed into a ball and your lips pursed in annoyance. Why does he care about you so much now that you're staying away from him?

"Let me leave, Doyoung. Johnny is waiting for me," you said as calmly as you could.

"Is that it? You're replacing me with Johnny? Just because of that one mistake? What kind of friendship is that?" Doyoung's voice went up a few notches, now looking as visibly upset as you are.

"I can't be your friend anymore, Doyoung," silence filled the room as soon as you said that statement. You both stare at each other awkwardly, both of you are still in a state of shock.

"I don't think this is the perfect time to tell you this, but you have to know eventually," grasping the straps of your handbag, you braced yourself for what you were about to say.

"I have feelings for you Doyoung. That's why I was so hurt that you didn't attend the recital," you paused for a bit, biting your lower lip to hold yourself back from tearing up.

"It made me realize that my life, everything about me, revolves around you. I would literally drop everything when you say you need me. And yet, I'm so far away from your priority list that you can't even sit down for a few minutes to watch me perform," you felt a bit of moisture from your cheeks. Tears were already falling from your face without you even realizing it.

You wiped your tears away with your sleeves and you held yourself back from sobbing to proceed to talk.

"But it's not your fault. I was the one at fault for lending you my time, and I was the one at fault for setting high expectations for someone who just treats me as a friend," you smiled weakly as you walked towards him one last time.

"So for now, I can't be your friend anymore. Not until I sort my feelings out and make things more awkward for us. Give me time for myself, Doyoung. I'll try to be a better friend soon."

You smiled as you lowered your head once again, your shoulders brushing over when you left the room. You didn't try to look back and walked as fast as possible, holding yourself together just before you reached the exit.

You ran out of their apartment building and as soon as you found a place where you can hide, you finally let yourself go. You sat there balling your eyes out and looked around for signs of your best friend. When you realized that he didn't even make an effort to comfort or follow you, your sobs got even louder as you sat down on the pavement to hug your knees.

"Go on... Let it out."

Someone sat down with you and started patting your back to comfort you. You raised your head and cleared the hair strands that stuck to your face to see who it is. It was Johnny.

"I saw everything that happened. I'm happy that you finally told him."

He rubbed your shoulders to calm you down once again, offering you his handkerchief so you could wipe your tears out. Once you finally managed to stop crying, he stood up from his seat and placed his hands on the pockets of his hoodie.

"If you need to cry all day, I'll be here."

///

Doyoung proved that your presence left a big mark that he never realized before. He thought he was just confused at first, or that he was just getting used to not being able to contact you whenever he could.

Just that evening, he was having a hard time memorizing the new choreography for their comeback. He kept on messing up one of the killing parts and everyone was frustrated that they couldn't move on to the other parts of the choreography. He felt sorry for everyone, so he left practice early to work on it himself without burdening the other members. His first instinct was the grab his phone and listen to your soothing voice, telling him to cheer up and that he will do better tomorrow.

But as soon as he was about to hit the dial button, it pained him to press the back button instead, stuffing the phone into his sweatpants and he wiped the sweat off of him.

He felt very heaviness, even more, when he was changing, basically ripping the door of his locker as he took its contents to rid himself of the uncomfortable feeling of sweat. He was both mad and upset at the same time, almost ripping a part of his shirt when he was about to put it on.

He hasn't felt like this in a very long time and he needed a way to get things off of his chest. But without you to do it, it was practically impossible.

He grabbed his matching hat and jacket, stuffing his dirty clothes on his backpack and he made his way out of the building.

He made sure that no one saw him in that state, especially Haechan, who gave him so much shit when everybody found out about your confession.

"Everyone knew, you dumbass."

He just wished somebody would've told him sooner, but he knew it wasn't their place to tell him about it. He felt stupid for not realizing it sooner.

His heavy footsteps dragged him to the ramen shop that you used to go to together. He stopped coming here when he lost contact with you, and instead of making him feel better, it made him even more upset upon the reminder of how he fucked up. But he needed a way to make himself feel better. Ramen worked back then. Maybe it would work right now.

He made the choice to not sit down at your usual spot, the one closest to the kitchen so you would get your meals as soon as you could. He instead opted for one of the corners. It felt awkward, but he was there to eat, not enjoy the ambiance. He ordered a bowl to himself, something that he wasn't used to seeing on the table. The bowl of ramen looked so empty on the table by itself, and so he ordered a lot of side dishes with a few bottles of soju to comfort himself.

To his surprise, he was served by the same auntie that used to tease you and him before when the two of you used to go to this place. He hoped that she wouldn't recognize and ask for your whereabouts, but he was very unlucky that day.

"Oh. It's been a while since I saw you! How are you?"

Doyoung just bowed to the auntie and told him that he was fine and that he missed eating there for the longest time.

"I'm glad that I finally get to see you! You missed your friend though, she just left earlier."

He was put to a halt. Something about you being mentioned sparked something in him. Although, he wasn't able to pinpoint what that feeling was at that time.

"I think she was showing the place to another friend of yours. The big guy ate a lot, so we're worried for a bit that we’re about to close early for today."

Doyoung felt his heart sink, but he still bowed and thanked the auntie for the meal.

He stared at the contents of his table for a while, but you would always remind him that the soup tasted better when it's still hot. For some reason though, the bowl of ramen wasn't as tasty as it used to be. He used to finish bowls of that same ramen before, but he couldn't even manage to finish one. He knew better than to waste food though, so he forced himself to eat the rest of it and jumped out of there as soon as he could.

The ramen certainly didn't make him feel better.

///

It's been weeks and the first thing that Doyoung did after waking up was to open his phone for messages. There were a few of them, most of it coming from the other members, but he wasn't interested in reading in any of them.

Getting out of bed seemed harder than usual. He felt a few pounds heavier, which meant he either gained weight or he just lost the will to get up from his bed.

He tried not to stare at his phone as he brushed his teeth, so he kept them hidden in his pocket and used all of his wills to not check on it every hour.

He noticed that there was a bit of commotion coming from outside. He paid no attention and went back to his usual morning routine, getting ready for a separate schedule that he had that morning. He went to his room to get dressed and pack the things that he may need that day. Once everything was done, he went to the kitchen to tell everyone that he was going, but he was met with something else instead.

The rest of the boys were gathered up around the table, enjoying breakfast that he assumed that you made. You just stood there happily as you served everyone pieces of the omelet that you made. You turned around in his direction and he was met with that smile that he missed so much.

"Doie, would you like some?"

The nickname made him flinch. It was something that you never used on him before, but it was enough to make him look away and step out of the room immediately.

"I'm good. I just came to say goodbye to everyone."

"Oh good!" you said as you gathered your things and stuffed them neatly in your tote bag. "I just came here to drop some food because this guy said that he wasn’t feeling well. Let's go together," you said as you tiptoed your way out of the tight kitchen, messing Johnny's hair before you finally stepped out of the room.

"Let's go?" you asked giddily as you grabbed Doyoung's arm and waved to everybody goodbye. He finally realized what you must've felt when it was the other way around.

The walk towards the bus stop was a quiet one. None of you dared to talk. But he noticed that the spring of your step is back, if not better than before. Meanwhile, he was just walking there awkwardly, not knowing what to say to you because of how he left things the last time that you talked. He wanted to talk to you for the longest time, but he respected your wishes to be alone. Now he was regretting making that decision.

The both of you stood there at the nearest bus stop, the atmosphere is even quieter since it was just the two of you standing there.

"I missed you Doie," you spoke, breaking the silence between you too.

"I was hoping that we can talk right after this. You know, just to clear the air."

He remained quiet in his place, not really knowing how to respond to her.

"Meet me at the ramen place later?"

"Sure," Doyoung almost hit himself for answering so soon. To him, he sounded very eager to eat with you once again.

The bus finally arrived and you stepped inside, making your way into the seat. His stare lingered at you for a while, to see if you would look around like how you always did when he sent you home. You took those same steps, hesitating at the eighth one to see if he still stuck around to look at you.

You hesitantly sat back down in your seat, unsure as to whether he finally looked back at you when you were about to leave.

You never saw him though, because he asked you to sit down and within a split second, he was gone from your view.

Guess you're just gonna have to find out tonight.

xxx

244 notes · View notes

rosesvioletshardy · 4 years ago

Text

we keep each other grounded - nolan patrick

okay so this is the first time i’m writing for nolan and the first time i’m writing in a while so i’m sorry if it’s really bad

i tried my best to remember what happened in the first two game against the capitals so if i got anything wrong i’m sorry you have the right to yell at me

masterlist

warnings: fluff, suggested nsfw ??, none

# of words: 1,514

home games had to be some of Nolan’s favorites because it didn’t involve that much travel but they often did mess with him knowing he’ll have to do better than usual. The past couple of mornings he’s been getting up earlier than his usual time to go out for runs and practice more before he left for practice with the guys. You started to notice how much quieter he got whenever home games happened and it was the first one that’ll have fans in Wells Fargo center which meant that he and the rest of the team would need to do a lot better than they were already doing. You knew that it wasn’t their fault with what was happening and they were trying their hardest.

After the first game against the Capitals, Nolan had thought it was just the nerves that came from having fans in the arena again and being back in Philly that made them lose. Then the game against the Sabres boosted up their confidence a little more, especially after his shootout winning goal. They had another game against the Capitals again and he was for sure about bringing his A-game the night. Now, he was in your guys bedroom getting ready for the night and trying to calm his nerves that were getting to the best of him. He was fumbling with his tie knowing that he has trouble but tonight was bothering him even more and making it worse. You watched as he grunted in frustration and undid it before redoing it as you watched him. Nolan carefully started over again, mumbling to himself the instructions and words of encouragement, trying to calm himself down.

“You’re doing it wrong” you tell him as you walk over to him and take the tie from his hands.

“I’m sorry, just nervous again i guess”

“You have nothing to apologize for. It’s okay to feel like this, it’s normal. You know it’s okay for you to express your feelings, even if you can’t put it in the right words sometimes, your body language says it all too.” you remind him giving him a small smile, fixing his collar as he gives a small smile

“Yeah, I know. It’s just there’s a lot of pressure that’s being put on us and we don't want another repeat of what happened.”

“You guys will do great, I promise. Now you better leave or you’ll be late. Remember, take deep breaths, talk to each other, or send signals, and good things will come.” you finished holding his hands before giving him a kiss. When you pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other and he held you in his arms before giving you one more kiss

“I love you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, and we keep each other steady. Good luck. I’ll be cheering you on” you tell him as you look down and point to your jersey with his name and number when he can’t help but smile big as the both of you left and headed towards the front door

“Thanks, i’ll see you later tonight.”

“Hey, remember: win or lose, i still love you.” you reminded him as he exited giving a small smile and mumbled it back

----

The entire game had you on the edge of your seat. As soon as you thought they were going to score, it ended up being blocked. You could tell that they were trying and wanted to win this game against the Capitals seeing that the last two times didn’t go so well. Sitting on the couch, you nervously watch the second period as JVR got them their first goal of the night. This boosted their confidence but you didn’t want to get your hopes up too quickly incase something ended up getting jinxed

“Okay, relax Y/N, relax. They still have some time left in this period and third period to catch up to them” you had to remind yourself constantly.

At this point you were sure that you didn’t have any nails left due to the two shots the caps managed to get in such little time after they scored. It wasn’t until a couple of minutes later Nolan scored making you jump and start screaming, hoping the neighbors didn’t call the cops. Grabbing your phone, you quickly texted him a huge congrats even though he wouldn't be able to see it until after the game was over.

The rest of the game consisted of you yelling at the tv hoping that the guys would get more goals but they ended up losing 5-4. You knew Nolan would be disappointed but he knew he had to keep a straight face throughout any interviews he had to do afterwards. When he read your text, it put a smile on his face seeing how proud you were of him and how much he deserved it.

“Oh, what is little baby cat smiling about?” hayes asked as he saw him smiling big at his phone

“It’s Y/N isn’t it? Was it about your goal?” Travis asked trying to sneak a peak over Nolan’s shoulder causing him to move and turn even more red

“Yes it was about my goal, no not like that by the way. I know what you’re thinking.” he shot back

“Wasn’t thinking about it. But seriously what did she say” travis asked

“Just how proud she is of he” kevin answered as he looked over nolan’s shoulder

“Oh boys Patty here is whipped” they joked as everyone laughed and Nolan smiled. He didn’t mind being whipped seeing how much he loves and trusts you

“Not like you guys aren’t with your wives and girlfriends. But I don't know, we just feel safe with each other and always bring out the good in each other. I mean, I’m not saying we’re perfect either, we have fights too, but we just keep each other grounded and we’re there for each other even if we don’t want to be at the moment.” Nolan said, smiling and turning red just at the thought of talking about you.

Yeah he didn’t like talking about his personal life, especially his dating one, but he felt comfortable enough to tell his friends how he feels about and around you. They all looked at him with big smiles as he looked at them with a concerned look but shook it off because he knew that wouldn’t be the only time they’d see him like that.

After getting dressed and finishing a couple of interviews, all he wanted to do was just go back to your apartment and hold you. The entire car ride home he kept drumming his fingers against the steering wheel waiting until the moment he can just relax with you and the dogs. You were doing the same, waiting for him to come home and just let him let out everything he’s feeling about the game and let him rant about things he would never tell anyone else, just let out all his frustration on whether it was the whole game in general or how he played.

Hearing the door click, you jumped off the couch and went over to where he was and all he could do after dropping his stuff off at the door was hug you. You knew that even though they ended the game behind one point, you were still proud about it seeing how the other games went

“Hey” he said softly kissing you on the head

“Hey, you guys did good tonight and I'm proud of the goal you made. I think I may have scared our neighbors again with it since the game with the sabres.” you tell him, causing him to laugh, picturing the scenario of you having to explain to your neighbors that it was a misunderstanding.

“Thanks, I just think I could’ve done better-”

“Nols, stop. You did your best and I’m proud of you for it. You all tried your best and you did it. Maybe that green jersey brought you some luck and it helped.”

“Well, technically it was all because of you and your words”

“Oh please-”

“No i’m not kidding. Just you supporting me in general and helping me through everything when it comes to helping me through my migraines or in general, you’re always there for me even when I’m in another city playing. It’s because of you.” he whispered the last part causing you to blush

“I mean it. I mean you deal with everything that’s happened and help me calm down when I get into fights and get sent to the locker room. I’m glad you’re in my life and if it weren't for you I know I would’ve beaten myself up about this game” he finished. Staring into his eyes, you gave him a small smile before giving him a kiss

“C’mon, you need to relax now and get your mind off the game. Especially after that goal you made.” you told him taking his hand and heading towards your bedroom

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick x reader #nolan patrick imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #philadelphia flyers #philadelphia flyers imagine #flyers imagine #nolan patrick x you #nolan patrick one shot #nhl x reader

230 notes · View notes

keilemdarkmode · 4 years ago

Text

crybaby

🚫contains themes of abuse, noncon/dubcon, yandere. 🚫

all characters aged 18+

(r18+)

pro hero! hitoshi shinsou x reader

word count: 2.4k

you cry so pretty, all for him.

a/n: hey y’all! please don’t read if this isn’t your cup of tea!!

this is my first (posted) story with like. dark themes. finally, i am able to filthily indulge my crying kink <3333 enjoy!!

warnings: yandere, spanking, dacryphilia, kidnapping, isolation, degradation, spanking, light pet play (collars and nicknames), light non-con

|||||||||||||||||

You were so fucking pretty when you cried.

For him, anyway.

Just him.

If anyone other than Hitoshi dared to upset you to the point of tears, they would hardly be around much longer to tell about it.

No, Hitoshi took pride— hot, ego-boosting, revolting— pride in making you hiccup and wail to the point of a migraine once your tears had settled. Fuck toeing the line of pain and pleasure, he’d shove you over its jagged edge without a thought if it got you to tears.

If he was in a particularly cruel mood, he’d keep you sobbing for hours.

It never felt long enough for him, but he prided himself on knowing what limits of yours he could safely break without breaking you. The last thing he wanted was a lifeless doll, that would defeat the entire purpose of keeping you in the first place.

There were surely thousands of other tight cunts in the world that would fall all over the famed, underground hero ‘MindBreak’, but Hitoshi didn’t want any of them. He’d had a fangirl or two strung up in his bed during his early years of professional hero work, but it was always lackluster. Too many clawing, exaggerated moans and needy cuddling for his liking. He’d rather beat one out alone than pretend he enjoyed indulging a girl’s selfish fantasy.

Hitoshi had given up on ever finding a partner who would suit him just right.

Until he met you, of course.

...

A hostage situation, easily diffused with a handful of words in the twilight of a closing luxury shop, expensive purses and watches lining the walls.

It was far too simple for Hitoshi to bait the villains that dared to put you in harm's way.

When he first saw your tear-flushed cheeks, the barrel of a villain's handgun to your temple, Hitoshi knew he was beyond fucked.

His cock shouldn’t have twitched at the sight, yet it did. He was sporting a half-chub the entire mission, endlessly glad that his costume was baggy enough to hide it and that his voice modulator covered his hot, shamed cheeks.

When Hitoshi finally got to you, carefully checking you over for bumps and bruises, he let his hands linger. Any potential self-imposed disgust that bubbled in his throat died the second he felt your skin against his own.

He was hooked.

You thanked him, tearfully, over and over as he walked you to a waiting ambulance, rubbing at your eyes with the backs of your wrists. Hitoshi kept a firm hand on your lower back, quietly reassuring you that you were ‘safe, alright, protected—’

The last word might’ve been a bit much for a pro-hero to a civilian, but you were too busy sobbing to notice.

...

Hitoshi had to be subtle at first.

Showing up at your work, always bearing a coffee and a smile, talking to you like an old friend and not a near-stranger who kept too many tabs on you. You didn’t know about his behavior and Hitoshi was convinced you wouldn’t care either. You always grinned so sweetly from behind the counter, sipping the beverages he always treated you to.

Blissfully ignorant.

You were sweet, far-too innocent to notice how Hitoshi pushed and pulled you into the undertow of his fucked-up desires.

Maybe he was first disgusted with himself, for a small while, but he was quick to rationalize, easily mushing and tugging his own mind into a lull of lust and instinctual compliance.

You needed him, it was obvious. You needed a sweet man to kiss and blot your pretty tears away, keep you safe from the horrors of the world while he did so.

Hitoshi was happy to provide.

...

You fought him, of course, when he first brought you home.

He was careful not to push you in the beginning, letting you sputter and beg your lips dry and eyes red before even thinking about reacting. The kitten-kicks and punches you landed phase him in the slightest.

Hitoshi wasn’t delusional enough to think you wouldn’t need time to adjust to your new existence.

But, truly, giving you constantly neutral expressions hurt him too.

He wanted to scoop you up, kiss your pains away and keep you safe, like he knew he would. But, Hitoshi wasn’t an idiot. If he pushed you, there was no chance you’d ever trust him.

He had to be patient.

Hitoshi also knew that he should only use pain if he needed to. No need to punish your tears that he loved so, so much. It was only when you acted out that he ever would use force.

...

Such as the time you’d tried to pry off the pretty collar Hitoshi had made for you.

Sleek, black leather, a few o-rings, silver hardware and even a damn bell. The whole thing was even studier than it looked, a thin band of metal running between the layers of fabric, making it more than industrial grade. The last thing Hitoshi wanted was to snap the pretty present he'd even you— not to mention it had to stand up to the heavy links of chain that tethered you to the headboard of your silk-covered king-size bed.

See, he was even nice enough to let you have your own room while you settled.

Though you chose to spit on that kindness quickly.

He’d walked in to give you breakfast— a warm, home-cooked meal, your favorite, when he found you, bloodied at the neck, as you had slipped a fork (you must’ve saved it from dinner the night prior) between the unyielding collar and the fragile, weak skin of your throat. Tears spilled down your chin and cheeks, frustration and rage so clear in your eyes.

Hitoshi had never truly been upset with you until then.

He felt his own face fall.

When you finally noticed him at the unbolted door, you chucked the bloody fork at him.

You missed by a mile.

What Hitoshi didn’t miss was every strike he laid the plump flesh of your ass that day.

With every strike, Hitoshi wondered why he hadn't bent you over his knee sooner. Maybe it was his early boundaries and need for some order in his own mind.

He loved you, he didn’t want to hurt you.

But now, you fucking deserved it—

And he’d take advantage of it.

He yanked the chain attached to your pretty collar, forcing your neck and spine to curl just right as he smacked his hand down against your bare ass yet again.

“Bad kittens don’t deserve to feel good, do they?” Hitoshi asked, knowing you wouldn’t be able to reply with anything other than fat tears. You’d already soaked the sheets below. Hitoshi had particularly reveled in getting to grind your cheeks into your own mess.

Part of him was tempted to take it a step farther.

He only teased you, though. A single finger trailing from your tight hole to your clit, smearing what little slick you provided (He made a mental note to purchase lube.) Through his touch, obliviously teasing, you had shuddered for him, squirming harder, trills of pleas dripping from your bitten lips, ‘please, no, no, I’m sorry— please, Hitoshi, please, don’t— ‘

Hitoshi didn’t, as much as he wanted to watch you sob while he broke your cunt with his fat fingers.

He had to be patient.

Instead, he settled for spanking you until your ass was bruised and battered. He didn’t even try to count his strikes, rather he stopped when he ran out of ways to verbally berate you.

“If you just listened, kitten, I wouldn’t have to do this,” Hitoshi tsked, shaking his head as he slapped at your upper thighs. “If you were a good girl, I wouldn’t have to spank this cute little ass, would I?”

You squirmed, wailing into the sheets. You’d already begged yourself silly for a reprieve, but Hitoshi didn’t care. Hitoshi didn’t want an apology.

He wanted to see you weep.

He wanted to see you millimeters from shattering, preferably with your tight, silky cunt around his cock. It was a goal he aspired to reach.

But first, you needed to be trained as a proper pet.

At the end of that first punishment, Hitoshi yanked you upright by your collar, back painfully arched as you panted, shaking and writhing in his grip.

Hitoshi forced your thighs around his own, relishing the fear that continued to spill from the wrinkles and lines around your eyes.

It got even cuter when he spit on your lips, harshly slapping your cheek, though tender enough to catch your jaw as you reel.

“So, what did my sweet kitty learn?” Hitoshi asked, watching the way your glassy eyes refocused on him. The tears on your cheeks had yet to slow or stop. Hitoshi wondered if he could get you to run yourself dry.

“T-that— t-that— “ You sniffled, wrists flexing in Hitoshi’s vice grip. “Um—”

Your eyes went blank, vacant.

It hurt some part of him, though it was buried quickly.

It was necessary.

Hitoshi squeezed your cheeks in one hand, cock twitching at the feeling of your precious tears wetting his hand, “Feel that, kitten? In your head— you know what this is? Answer honestly.”

You shook your head, slow and methodically.

“It’s my quirk. You’ll do anything I say without question.” Hitoshi massaged your slack cheeks, tightening his grip on your wrists. “Anything. Do you understand?”

You nodded.

Hitoshi didn’t want to use his quirk on you— no, he wanted to make you his handiwork, not the byproduct of his feared-quirk.

Still, it was a nice safety net.

“I’m going to release you, and then you’re going to tell me what you learned.” Hitoshi already started to let you go. “And, kitten, be quick about it. I wouldn’t want to keep you bent over for much longer, especially since you’ve already made such a mess.”

The moment his hold was fully released with his last words, your eyes went wide, body going rigid.

“Bad kittens don’t get to feel good!”

You panted it out, pain and panic having stripped your already raw mind bare.

Hitoshi was nice enough to sit with you as shakily ate your cold breakfast, praising you in the same breath as calling you a ‘disobedient cunt’ and an ‘ungrateful whore’.

It was cute to see the whiplash in your eyes.

...

You got better, under Hitoshi’s training.

It just took a bit of time and coaxing.

You cried a lot after that first punishment, flinching whenever Hitoshi got within a few feet.

Hitoshi’s response to this was simple—

Get you nice and needy.

He was the only person you saw anyways, so it wasn't a hard feat.

A few crushed up sleeping pills into your dinner left you knocked out and pliant, though Hitoshi only tucked you into bed, allowing himself to even kiss your forehead as he got to work.

He removed all of the books and drawing paper he’d given you. All of your clothes sans three distinct, uncomfortably fitting outfits were removed from your closet.

Each bit and piece of stimulation Hitoshi could find, he stole away. Even the alarm clock at your bedside.

He even took away your towels, though graciously, he left behind your toothbrush and toothpaste. Hitoshi really patted himself on the back for his grace.

He left you to awaken only with a sheet on your bed and a sweet note from him on your bed.

Kitten,

Be a good girl.

Hitoshi (Master)

...

His plan worked wonderfully.

At first, you were still reluctant to get near him. Though it hardly mattered.

Hitoshi made a point to hardly speak or spend time with you when he would drop off your meals. He didn’t linger.

Though, he did make a point to praise you a single time, each day. Just a small, insignificant ‘good girl’ with dinner just before exiting to rebolt the door to your room.

He’d always wait in the nearby hallway, pulling out his phone to check the hidden cameras that dotted your room.

Typically, you would eat quietly, then tucking into yourself in your favorite corner of the room under your single sheet for the rest of the day. Maybe Hitoshi would have felt some remorse over your shivering, scared form if he doubted himself and his methods.

It wasn’t long before you started to crack.

You’d sniffle behind the door, rubbing at your eyes from the view of the cameras.

Quickly, you went from cries to sobs, then all-out wails.

The first time you screamed, something wretched and high, Hitoshi left you to beg and plead behind the door, as much as it pained him.

As cute as your begging was, he couldn’t deviate from his methods when he was so fucking close to his goal.

With a sly, curling grin, Hitoshi felt confident that the next time he graced you with his presence, you’d be wrapped around his finger.

...

You had become so well-trained.

Perfect, like Hitoshi always knew.

You’d taken to sitting on the floor as Hitoshi busied himself with the day’s paperwork. Some program droned on in the background, just white noise for the evening.

You’d been good that day, particularly good as Hitoshi ate your cunt like it was his last meal over the arm of the couch he was now sitting on.

He couldn’t count the amount of time you wept ‘thank you’ as Hitoshi drove you into a mess of snot and sobs.

After the fanfare, your body spent and tired, he’d given you some reprieve. Your cheek rested on his knee, eyes half-lidded, shoulders relaxed.

Softened, good and proper.

All for him.

You had your slipups, notably. Mistakes were human, weren’t they? You still jumped sometimes if Hitoshi got too loud. You’d shriek if he surprised you, in jest or otherwise. Still needed a lesson drilled into you once in awhile, but overall you were a very well-trained pet for him.

“Kitten?” Hitoshi hummed, not looking up from his papers. “Up on the couch. Head on my lap.”

You sweetly climbed up, the skirt you wore riding up against your thighs. Hitoshi watched your hand twitch to cover yourself, but quickly, you stilled.

That particular lesson had been hard for him to get through your dumb little skull, but eventually, finally, you understood that Hitoshi was the one who decided how much you bared and when.

Luckily, he was more fatigued than normal. He reached out to smooth your skirt flat, squeezing your thigh as he did.

You laid on him, so pliant and soft. Hitoshi absent-mindedly played with your hair, skirting his nails against the shell of your ear, cherishing the way you shivered against him.

It was moments like this that were his favorite.

You started sniffling.

Though your head was directed towards the TV, Hitoshi knew better than to think it was the show that triggered your tears.

No, it was just circumstantial.

Hitoshi enjoyed the soft moments. No fighting, no need to bruise and hollow out your mind, just you so sweetly curled up for him like the perfect kitten you were.

The tender moments are what made you cry so hard.

You slowly dissolved into ragged breaths, fisting the fabric of his joggers and burying your face in his thigh as you wept.

Hitoshi felt his dick twitch.

He let you do this, despite knowing why you did. He felt no guilt as you shattered with sobs against him. You needed the catharsis of it, Hitoshi knew this and wouldn’t take that away from you.

He was just so gracious.

As was so routine, he dragged you up, wide hands positioning your thighs around his own. You sagged in his hold, half-limp and half-relieved by his contact. You settled on his lap just like he taught you, tucking into his neck with your hands bunching up the front of his shirt as you wept.

Deliciously hot tears seared Hitoshi so well that his eyes rolled back into his head. Though, he kept himself appearing unaffected, sorting through his paperwork all the same, though lightly rocking and cooing to you as he did.

His fucking crybaby was right where they belonged.

#shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #yandere shinsou hitoshi #yandere tw #noncon tw #please do not read if its not ur thing plz thanks <3333 #female reader

595 notes · View notes

aineryeo · 3 years ago

Text

Prominence ௹ ATSUMU

The letters of the first few days when you parted ways 📨

Prominence: “Find someone great, but don’t find someone better.” You’d say to yourself, though it was directed to your ex-boyfriend, writing in a number of papers, serving as letters. Awaiting your impending doom.

Timeskip! Atsumu x Reader

Synopsis: You break up with Atsumu Miya in hopes to alleviate his pain. And for what he'd have to deal with. » 6.2k Words

Warnings: Depictions of Mental Illnesses & actual disease, Angst, Suicidal tendencies, Cursing, Atsumu is an impulsive bitch, so is reader. Read at your own discretion. Do not read if this has any sort of possibility to trigger you, more if you feel encouraged to do something you shouldn’t. This isn’t what the fic is about.

It was a rainy day, droplets of water knocking on the window of what was your empty room. It wasn’t a space you were supposed to be getting used to at this point in your long life. A faint tune of a piano was penetrating through your thin walls as you stared into nothing in particular, maybe the particles that become visible with the peek of sunlight through the gray clouds piercing through your window pane.

Your body got up, but you had a stinging migraine, your limbs were weak, and today was an off-day from your work as a bustling city journalist. No phone calls for a sudden need for your presence in your job. Your blanket was wrapped around you loosely, your feet navigating through your creaking floors. How depressing.

Empty fridge.

Messy bed.

Disorganized papers.

And clothes in unsuspecting places.

Your clothes. None of his. You can’t even reminisce about him anymore. Your migraine seems to have gotten worse. You spot one of the few things that were left organized. Your letters. You grimaced, the pain suddenly pushed to the back of your head as you were reminded of the contents.

“It won’t be bad to see him, at least once.” You reason to yourself with a small smile, it wasn’t a happy one. Nonetheless it was one. One reason out of many when you were always reminded that he was already happy, that Atsumu no longer needed you, and your relationship was a ghost of the past.

It has been for a month now, how else would it go, when you were the one who ended it?

Yeah, it was a bad idea to see him. You scold yourself for coming here, furthering your torture. You see him with a huge smile, bigger than when he was with you. Brighter than when you last picked a joke, at least that was what you thought. You dated him since you were sixteen, young, and fresh in-love.

“Tsum, baby, not here.” You vaguely make out, from hiding behind one of the tall bleachers near the exit from where their practice usually resided in. She was very pretty, her voice silky. You hear a rumbling chuckle in return, you feel your spine shudder at the familiarity. “Hm, honey where do ya want me ta do it then? I jus’ can’t resist ya.” You took your small window to catch a glimpse of them. The perfect lovers.

This was selfish, you knew it. But you inwardly cheered for him, happy to know that he found someone great. That he was happy, even if it was at your expense. Your eyes were glossy, dams about to break, so you walk away; like you always do, like you always did. Your mouth formed into a shaky frown, your fists clenching ‘till you were white-knuckling nothing in particular. White-knuckling all your pain, perhaps.

It was when you exited the establishment, into the car park, into your cheap second-hand car, did your tears fall; until everything kept breaking, your multi-functional tape to bar all your emotions inside, failing you for the umpteenth time for the past month. You were all alone, still clutching your keys to open the door to the driver’s seat. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, which made you jolt, you were too surprised that you didn’t get to wipe your residual breakdown off your face.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Your blurry eyes adjusted, and your heart almost jumped at the familiar face. You turned your face away from him, you were too ashamed to show your face to him. To the brother of the man you were still in love with. You changed your voice a few octaves higher, “Yeah! Thanks, sorry you had to see that.” Mishandling your keys before being able to open it quickly, though Osamu stopped you just as fast.

“I know it’s you, Y/N.”

You froze. “I’m not—”

Hearing a small laugh from him made you stop. “I think I’ve seen your car enough times before, with the same plate to know that it’s you when I parked right next to it.” Turning back, he already had his hand out holding a handkerchief.

“Sorry.”

He smiled sympathetically at your small figure, noticing that you’ve gotten smaller than you already were. More fragile. So he placed his hand that was roughly the size of your face, gently on top of your head to stroke it, hoping to bring you some comfort; roughly knowing the situation about you and his brother. How couldn’t he?

“It’ll be okay.”

It’s not. You recall, already sitting in your bathtub, not really crying, not really feeling anything of the sort. You exhaled as if it lightened your burdens. It won’t be.

You hum. Knees to your chest, “Not when...” You sigh, not now.

It was time for work, tedious work that requires you to write articles and camp out places at 2am in the morning, only to turn up and camp out at a different place again, just hoping for an interview for your channel. You didn’t feel like breaking down at all, but it felt like everything is typically more down. You refused to eat when your co-workers asked you to join them, you had no appetite.

You hadn’t for weeks.

A heavy feeling is always stuck inside you. Like everything is screaming at you, but you can’t scream back. You just can’t. Always heaving sighs, always staring into what once was blue skies, turned dull grey. Was it because you regretted having to let go of him? Or was it because of the news you had received prior to when you left him? Was it because the one time you felt like you couldn’t walk, the doctor told you that you had a few left; extend your life with a surgery that was high-risk.

Your hand ran through your hair for the umpteenth time, thoughts drifting to whether you should just end it quicker than what you had. What was the point? You failed to notice that your hand was writing on another piece of paper, as if documenting everything that ran through your mind. And maybe you wanted them to find out, when you’re gone. So you don’t have to face the burden of facing them afterwards and giving them any answers.

But you don’t want to ruin the happiness Atsumu had right now. He’ll blame himself, but this was all your fault. You ended it with a bad note so he’d forget you easily, you yelled at him, told him that he was useless, you didn’t love him anymore. You open your eyes, seeing yourself back at the situation where it all began, and where it all ended.

“Atsumu, I hate you.”

“Angel, what are ya saying? I said I was sorry! I’m tired from practice.” He replied, he was tired. He was stressed. You were stressing him. And he was getting rightfully agitated, it was working.

Your thoughts briefly flash to the days before, same old. You chose to do it days slowly, so it wouldn’t be too sudden; so he’d lose all love for you once you leave him. So you nitpick him again, even though it never really bothered you, “You always do this. Maybe we should just...” You swallow, it was like eating hard, bitter candy at once.

“What? Break up? Yeah, with your incessant yappin’ these days, Y/N, I wouldn’t mind one bit.” He said, looking at you with a harsh gaze. Similar to when some random fan begins screaming during his serving routine. You were nothing now. You nodded, if he had the right mind that time, he would’ve noticed that you were eerily calm; you were expecting this, why wouldn’t you?

“Yeah, break up.” You confirmed, with a somber smile. He hadn’t even noticed that more than half of your things were already gone from your shared apartment. You had one last suitcase, it was right beside the door. Atsumu failed to notice all the little things disappearing, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if he failed to also stop you before you hung your apron on the rack, turning the stove off, he was already gone. Into his bedroom, where he slept, too tired for anything his aching muscles couldn’t take right now. Your keys left untouched on the table before you left him altogether. Always, just always looking back with a heavy grimace.

The skies were the same color from that day, to everyday, same grey.

It wasn’t long before you found out he had a new love. Apparently an avid, and innocent fan of his whom he met during one of his morning runs in the park.

“What’re you writing there, Y/N?” One of your co-workers as of now, Akaashi Keiji, brought your head back up in the present. You hummed, folding the paper your hand subconsciously wrote in, and placing it in your pocket. “Nothing, really. My hand just kind of moves on its own when I think of anything in general.”

He smiles, sweet. “That’s endearing. Must be why you’re quite famous in the department.”

You chuckle, “I’m not famous, Keiji. If anything, this job just keeps giving me migraines. You’re the real MVP as a great editor in your dept.”

His hand was rubbing his nape, laughing softly with you. You stood up, supposed to get some water only to fall back down again. Your co-worker quickly catches you with worry etched in his delicate features.

“Y/N, have you been eating?” No, but..

“Keiji, I can’t feel my legs.”

It was showing.

You asked Keiji not to tell anyone, he in turn, asked if any of your family members knew this. It made you chortle, you said, “No. My grandmother died years ago, I’m an only child, and my parents didn’t last.” It wasn’t a funny thing, you knew that but it made you laugh anyway. Laugh at how pathetic you were.

He looked at you, on your bed at your home that he had kindly helped you in after calling your doctor from before. Saying it was that the disease was starting to become severe, causing your limbs, your legs, your arms, to lose its sensation. Slowly, you’ll become more agitated, and it’ll be harder for you to talk, or even move. Only your co-worker, and your boss knew for the time-being.

“You don’t have to help me. I know you’re busy.” You said, though weak, “I’ll only weigh you down.”

Keiji sighed, he knew that you worry too much about other people, he knew that you got lost enough to stop thinking about yourself. And it was sad, he empathized with you in the way that you were both overthinkers, though he’d understood for a while that you were more hasty with decision-making.

“No.” He said, simple.

You looked down at the blanket that covered your bottom half, your top half facing the big, musty, old window next to your bed. Facing away from Akaashi.

“Why?”

He was quiet for a few seconds, save for the usual noise from the surrounding roads. He looked up, before he looked back at your weak figure. “It’s just you—you’re all alone.” Walking around to the other side so he can face you. About to utter a tad more to his sentence, he stopped when he saw your eyes blown wide, a bit red at the bottom, a hard attempt to stop tears from falling. He didn’t miss a beat after, quickly crouching, and allowing your head to rest on his chest.

“So I thought you could use some company.”

You appreciated your co-worker, now close friend’s generous help. It’s been a few weeks, and you’ve been spending it cooped up in the hospital. He had also forced you to finally admit yourself so you can get immediate assistance in the case that something similar were to happen again. A similar event where he was forced to carry you to your car, and drive you home.

The cords stuck to your skin to hydrate you was a bother, but it was manageable. Here were your last few months alive. You still had no idea why you couldn’t just leave. You had no specific goal, you were bound to hit rock-bottom, and the least you can get is a few more months, maybe years of living if you get the surgery. There was no point, nothing to live for. You could work on your career, but what can you really do with legs that can barely stand, and… hands that can’t even pick up a pen.

The latter was the one that you cried to every night if you had tears to spare. The latter was the one where you try to continuously hit your head in hopes it can keep writing. It was such a simple task, why couldn’t it do its job? When Akaashi came to visit one afternoon, he had to rush and grab the sharp pen you had in your barely moving left hand, attempting to dig it in the skin of the right. Just to feel if it was still alive.

Then it was requested to have no pens, or sharp objects left near you without supervision. You’d call your friends, if by friends, you mean other than occasional visits from your co-workers that didn’t know much about your personal life; but still had the courtesy of visiting you nonetheless after hearing news from the boss, you’d consent to it since you were leaving the field. But he hasn’t fired you yet, apparently.

Sometimes it shifts, when your arms refuse to work, your legs will move for a bit, vice versa. A frown forms on your face when it happens to be both. Why couldn’t this just be quicker? You ponder, and hear the door open. Expecting the only person who visits you so frequently.

“Keij—” You stopped. He stopped. “What are you doing here?”

“Hm? So I can’t visit ya now?” Oh, his familiar tone.

“How did you even know I was here?” You said, a bit agitated.

“Asked one of yer co-workers.” He shrugged.

“...You visited my workplace? And they told you immediately?” You raised your brow, bringing your body up to sit on the bed instead. It was a feat on its own, but he’d seen your struggle, he was about to reach and help actually.

“Yeah, I had deliveries to make.” He said, leaning back. “And I may have made them slip it after overhearin’ yer name. Couldn’t resist my charm.”

“You’re ridiculous, ‘Samu.” You smiled, for the first time in a while. He could tell that it wasn’t a normal occurrence in a while, the thought of at least alleviating your stress for a bit eased a tide inside Osamu.

Osamu took his hat off, putting it on the table next to your bed. He was humoring you, because he didn’t want you to see the first look on his face when he confirmed that it really was you who's been confined here. Not any other person with the same name. He sat on the sofa beside you, next to the window. You’d lie if your heart didn’t clench at the sight of him, If you’d look inside, you’ll spot the tinge of pain; but outside, all Osamu could see was that you still adored him. By that, he meant his brother. He knew he might trigger you due to him being the twin of what was your love. Still is, he was sure.

Clearing his throat, your trance broke. “Y/N.”

“Hm.” You lay your back flat on the metal headboard covered in the white pillows of your white bed, in your white room.

“Why are you here?” It was true that Osamu had heard you were confined in the hospital while he was making deliveries to your place coincidentally, so he couldn’t help but perk his ears. Despite your break-up, he was still your childhood friend, and although he heard of the story of how it ended from none other than his brother’s dull voice on the phone that night he was closing up Onigiri Miya; he knew there must’ve been something that caused you to do that other than Atsumu himself. He’d investigate, and help rekindle the lifelong relationship you both shared if he wasn’t so busy himself. And if his brother hadn’t immediately used a rebound to inflict immediate pain upon you, maybe he’d have considered it.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

Osamu sighs, “You do. Tell me,” he looks at you with sincerity, placing his coarse palm from the work he’s been juggling in, on top of your pale, lifeless hands. Almost wincing at the cold temperature they held, “Please.”

You sucked in a breath, he placed his, what you assume to be, warm hand on top of yours. But you felt nothing. So you let it out, “I have Friedreich’s Ataxia. Apparently it’s genetic, uh, doesn’t allow me to use these flimsy things.” You glanced at your legs, slightly waving them along with your hands, “I can’t even feel the warmth of your hand right now. I mean, that is, if you’re warm. It’s always cold here. The doctors said they’d try to give me therapy and train me to walk again, or actually use my hands.” You chuckle.

“And something about heart surgery, though that won’t really extend my life for long.” You finish, opting to insert a joke that you thought was bright until you let it out, “Better than turning out blind though! Haha… Kidding, it may happen to me too, which sucks, by the way.”

Your rambling was cut off when you were met with an intense stare from Osamu. “And you’ve found out of this, when?”

“...Nearly 2 months.. Ago?” You gulped the lump that was stuck in your throat.

Osamu rested his elbows on his knees, thinking. “So that was the reason?”

You retained silence.

He sighs. “I knew it would be a valid reason, but I really wasn’t hoping it would be this.” His face hidden in his big hands, frustration was visible. But it was the breathy question of, “Why are the gods this cruel?” To which your eyes soften, albeit a little bit.

“Samu, can I ask a favor?”

He looks at you, face out of his palms. “Sure.”

“Can you… Turn the TV on?” He raised a brow at first before standing up and getting the remote by the stand, switching it on, immediately being greeted by the sports channel on Volleyball. Oh, they had a game today. He had nearly forgotten due to this new revelation from you. He looked at your face that was staring directly at the screen, then he saw the number thirteen, and his heart clenched tighter.

He placed the remote on the table beside your bed, and he took his black cap. He spun it on his finger for a bit, “I won’t tell ‘Sumu.”

You hummed again, before looking at him. “Thank you.” Then he smiles sweetly at you before turning around, his face immediately turning into a painful grimace. Because even he could feel the tragedy of this love.

Each day you were gone was a punch in the gut for Atsumu. His initial lack of reaction to his overreaction, trying to get back at you for leaving him. It was wrong. All he ever wanted was to call you, tell you to come back, have you in his arms, the lot. He’d miss the smell of your hair when he hugs you tight, or the clean apartment whenever he comes home to you beaming, cooking dinner; like his precious wife-to-be. Though he hadn’t proposed, the ring he bought for you started collecting dust in his drawer.

The girl he was with didn’t really last long, she broke it off after getting annoyed by him calling your name instead of hers on any normal occasion on impulse. His head in his hands, bed half-empty. His games gave him a little bit of adrenaline, but every time he sees the empty spot saved for you in his jersey, the adrenaline will scafe off, bit by bit. It’d be a lie if he said that he didn’t at least try to call your number in the past two months, he had actually, for a couple of times. But your number was unreachable, and your social media was non-existent.

It was like you weren’t real. Like a ghost. Sand that was slipping far from his fingers, his hold. His hold loosened in a moment of weakness.

To say his biggest regret was the night you left was a lie, because the biggest regret he ever made was never immediately trying to get you back. He was dazed off in the locker rooms after one of their games, his water bottle in hand. Hinata waved in front of him, Bokuto right next; to which his daze cut off.

“You okay, Tsum?”

He smiled, nodding. But his teammates knew it wasn’t the same for a while now. He was more rigid and tired in his movements. Probably not the kind of exhaustion that could be solved by sleep.

“Yeah, no worries.” Even Sakusa worriedly glances once in a while, he still cares, though not openly shown. Atsumu slung his gym bag over his shoulders after changing, he decided to visit his brother in his shop for now. He was walking out to drive when he accidentally bumped into someone, trapped in his little thoughts about you again.

“Oh—Sorry, didn’t see ya there.” Atsumu apologized, knowing it was his fault.

“It’s okay, Miya-san.” It took a few moments before Atsumu registered who this was.

“Akaashi? Keiji? Bokuto talks about ya all the time! Nice to meet ya.” He smiled, putting his hand out for him to shake. To which the latter man does. Oh, Akaashi recognizes him, not just from being his friend’s teammate; but from being your ex. He concluded in his thoughts by the few seconds they shook hands that he wished for him to not find out about you any longer. Thinking about the pain it would cause for both of you, especially him. They nodded at each other before bidding goodbyes and heading off to their own destinations.

Atsumu drove past the busy streets of the city, traffic holding him back a little bit. He was stopped a little bit in front of the city hospital. He didn’t know why, but his gaze lingered on the building a little longer than he’d like to admit. His left hand clutching the wheel, the other on the stick; Why does it feel like… He shakes his head to rid himself of ridiculous thoughts, seeing as the cars were finally moving, he did too.

Just as his foot pressed on the accelerator, his eyes landed on you. His eyes were the widest it had been, and this was the day he felt the most emotions since the day you left him.

“Y/N?” He asks, though his window was turned up and he was inside his car. He must be going crazy. Were you on a wheelchair? Was it really you? Or were his eyes playing tricks on him again, just like it had been every time he visited places he used to go with you. Or when he needed anything in particular, his first call in the apartment would be your name, expecting an answer back like you always had been.

He rolls his window down, and at that moment he swears your eyes met before you quickly changed vision. He’d run out of his car to chase you right now, if it weren’t for the honking behind him. Fuck.

He drives forward, and goes around to park for the hospital real quickly. Just to see if he wasn’t going insane by the amount of times he’d imagined seeing you again. He looks around the area, arriving at the greener part of the hospital, probably one of the places where they take some patients out for walks. Atsumu’s heart beats faster when he sees the same beautifully familiar hair, and angelic face he’s fallen in love with. He misses a beat, he stops, just plainly admiring; he notices your weaker stature, and your crest-fallen face. Paler skin, and limp limbs. And for that mistake, he fails to notice you were being guided in already.

He panics. About to bolt when he suddenly trips over his feet, and gets a bloody knee as the door closes. That doesn’t stop Atsumu, no, he’s dealt with much worse; one of which was the pain of not having you in his life. So he runs, and he sees the wheelchair you resided in enter the elevator; and once again, he swears, he swears, that his breath catches in his throat as he sees your eyes, and you see his.

And maybe he didn’t know, and maybe you didn’t know, but for the first time in months, you both saw colors.

“She was there, ‘Samu, I was sure of it!” Atsumu yells even in the midday of the bustling Onigiri Miya.

“Yer delusional as always, ‘Sumu. Ya should get yer head checked.” Osamu says from the kitchen in the back, there was faint squealing from the men and women alike in the restaurant. Feeling blessed for being able to witness the Miya twins in one sitting. And bantering, no less; even if it was over a girl.

“I can’t have mistaken it. I know when I see ma’ girl, Samu. Ya know it.” Atsumu groans, burying his head in his arms on the counter. “But when I asked the nurses, none of ‘em are giving me details. They say there ain’t Y/N L/N on their recent list of confined patients.”

Osamu was lucky he was working the kitchen right now, because he was low-key nervous of what to say, to not compromise you. How was his brother so close to it anyway? He wants to drive him away. He thinks he can agree with your rationale, but when he thinks of his brother’s side, wouldn’t it be more painful to just find out that you were just… Gone? His mind was splitting in half because of this dreaded situation, until Atsumu called him out again.

“Hey, ya scrub! Are ya even listening to me?” Atsumu lightheartedly yelled as Osamu’s heart softened. If anything, he didn’t want to see his brother bear the pain of losing you, permanently.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut yer trap. I have a business running here. Yer scaring off the customers.” Osamu says, getting out of the kitchen, arms crossed with a scowl.

“Help me, Samu. I just… Can’t bear to lose her.” Atsumu finally says, with a lace of evident longing. Osamu’s face contorts into a myriad of reactions that he couldn’t pick from. Before he settled with a sigh, and a lean on his forearms to poke his brother roughly on the forehead. A grunt of pain from the blonde.

“The only one who can help ya is yerself. If ya want to go find her, go ahead. Whatever your choice will be, don’t let it end with regret.” Was all he said before he went away to tend to the girls who were about to order, red-faced, and all.

Atsumu didn’t understand it a bit. How was that supposed to help him? He thinks. His fist digging into his cheek, face contorted into heavy thinking. It went on like that. He had no other clue, but he kept visiting the hospital, kept driving through, hoping he could catch a glimpse of you; to prove to himself that you were real. But for the first few days, he had no sign of you whatsoever. He kept bugging the nurses, or at least asking them everyday and ended up getting rejected again, and again, and again.

He sat in his car parked in the hospital on his free-day. As if a lightbulb turned on, he felt stupid for not visiting your workplace. They should at least know something about you, right? You were pretty well-known, and idolized in the industry. So he drove there, he may or may not have sped up a little more than he should but all in good purpose. He arrived there, and immediately knew where to park, the signature spot for everytime he comes to drive you home. Recently hearing that you bought a car when you broke up with him, made him sink a little bit. But he saw the spot was taken, eyebrows furrowing for a little before parking to the spot next to it.

When he got out, he noticed that the car that took your spot had dusting on it. As if it hadn’t been let out in a while. Or used. Quickly putting two-and-two together, maybe this was your car? The one you had bought? And if it hadn’t been used in a while… Then that supports his thoughts about you being in the hospital. His face shifted into worry. That must mean.. Whatever you had been sick of, was serious if you haven’t been using your car as often, considering your job was hectic.

He shook the thoughts off for a while, determined to find more clues about you instead. But he thinks the search suddenly became too easy when he suddenly heard a few gossiping women.

“Oh, poor Ms. L/N… She’s been hospitalized for a month now.”

“Really? Have you heard of any reason why?”

“I’m still unsure but I heard it’s chronic, and she doesn’t really have long.”

He sucks in a harsh breath. What? His ears perk up more to their conversation. He hides behind a wall, he assumes that they’re probably heading for their lunch break as a group right now.

Then a snicker, “I know this is kind of mean, but who’ll be replacing her now? Surely her position is up for debate.”

Atsumu’s face darkens at this. Stepping out of the wall as his big frame became all the more intimidating, “I mean, she’ll be biting the dust sooner or—”

“Shut your damn mouth, filthy whore.” Atsumu says with a sneer. Chin up, looking down. “Continue that sentence and I’ll see who bites the fuckin’ dust first.” A whimper, “It’s him again!” Shuffled feet, then they’re gone and out of his sights.

It takes a sigh, and a slump in his posture before everything sinks in. What does this mean? Is it.. True?

He shook his head, sure, you weren’t looking so good when he last saw you. You looked especially sick. But it was like nobody, not even the universe, had wanted him to see you. He thought back to the gossiping workers earlier. It’s him again? Atsumu hasn’t visited in a while, and he doesn’t think that he’s seen them… Oh.

Fuck, Osamu.

He could pass off as a professional racer with the speed he was driving at, only lucky enough to not have any cops tailing him. He was breathing heavily, his brother knew about you and didn’t tell him anything apart from that vague statement a few days ago? He couldn’t help the light betrayal he felt but in all honesty, he’d much rather force his brother to take him to you now. So when he arrived in Onigiri Miya, he didn’t waste a second dragging his brother out who was grumbling incessantly.

“The fuck ‘Sumu, I have a business to run!”

“No you, The fuck ‘Samu. You knew where Y/N was? Take me to her, now.” Atsumu said, foot on the ground, he won’t let anything come between his decisions now. Taking the bag of Onigiri from Osamu’s hand, “I’ll take this too. I’ll pay for it, I need to give a treat at least but we’re kind of in a hurry.” Osamu sighed, finally getting the gist of the situation. Deciding to spare his brother, he’d have to apologize to you later for spilling the beans. But he thinks he needs to let his brother let his feelings out as well.

“Okay.”

“No, you don’t have any other cho—Okay. Okay, get in the car.”

Osamu briefly yells at the part-timer he recently hired, telling them to take over for a while. To which they nodded eagerly, and so, the brothers left. Save for the quiet ride for the first few minutes. “...How—” Atsumu clears his throat, “How is she?”

A quiet beat, Osamu thinks of his answer. He settles for a passive one, “Okay.”

“Hn.” Atsumu grunts.

Osamu leans back on the passenger seat, “Just… Just make sure you don’t regret any of this.”

Atsumu raises a thick brow at this, “Why would I?”

“I think you already know why.”

He sucks in a harsh breath at this, and the silence remains. Atsumu reaches the hospital, parks the car, and Osamu leads the way to your room. Every step Atsumu took felt like the ground was shaking and trying to eat him whole. He wanted to see your pretty face again, your smile that could make his day whole and puff his chest out, or your hands that would comb through his hair and ask how it’s so soft when he bleaches it regularly.

So why was he seeing your writhing body under nurses yelling your name this time. Osamu breathes in, slowly understanding the situation as he quickly glances at his brother who was frozen. Both of them kept walking, until they were in front of what was supposed to be your room. Door open, and multiple people, trying to keep you alive. He hears that the doctor is coming, that you should wait, that you’ll get better in no time, at this point Atsumu didn’t know if the reassurances were for him instead.

When he sees your weak hand gripping the railing of your bed, he breaks. The bag of Onigiri long forgotten on the floor as he runs towards your bed.

“Darling, hey, hey, Angel, you—Yer okay, yeah? You’ll be fine, please be okay.” Atsumu says with shaky hands gripping yours, it was intensely cold, as if you weren’t even alive in the first place. He wishes so much that he was the one to give you warmth. “Look at me, you’ll be okay.”

And for the second time in a while, your eyes meet his, your weak, fragile, pretty little eyes; finally meeting him. The nurses noticed you calming down more, but your state wasn’t getting any better. They were initially going to let Atsumu out, but noticing the intimate relationship you two seemed to have displayed, they decided against it. More focused on bringing you back to life.

You had the heart surgery. You took the leap to extend your life, ever since you caught a glimpse of him a few days back; you just knew that the biggest regret you’d ever have is to never try. You told Akaashi when he visited that you were deciding on it, and he was supportive. He was really supportive. But you weren’t blind that it was a risk that may also shorten your life instead. Though wasn’t that what you were asking for, this whole time?

So maybe the time you got out of the surgery unscathed was the calm before the storm, it was the calm before this. But you were glad that even through your hazy vision, it was him that showed. It was Atsumu that kept telling you to look into his pretty eyes, and tell you that you’ll be okay.

Atsumu thinks that even in this situation, you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. So when the most beautiful thing slipped from his grasp, with no chance of clutching it back; his heart is torn, and burnt into crisps, non-existent flakes as his mind replays every memory he’s ever had with you, and how he was standing and watching warm, sunny spring turn into the ruthless, cold winter.

Osamu watched his brother break down in front of your bed, his own tears mixing in the lot, his cap covering most of his face. Another familiar figure that frequented visits with you, a solemn expression on his usual calm face. Heavy feeling on his chest, Akaashi approached the man who lay on his knees in front of your bed while the nurses that were scrambling to keep your life had promptly announced the date and time of your death.

Akaashi handed the box in his hand towards Atsumu who was kneeling with all his might, head on the ground, continuously asking for forgiveness from you, continuously asking for more time, just a little more. He hates this, he hates it. Because, when it sank in, you were gone.

The scene of your death. ⁆ To Visualize :) But instead of it being Kousei playing the piano, it's Atsumu when he plays volleyball, but when someone comes up to him, tapping on his back with a bright smile for an interview after the game; it's not you.

#Atsumu Miya #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #break up #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #timeskip atsumu #timeskip haikyuu #Akaashi Keiji #Atsumu angst #MSBY

107 notes · View notes

cadiebug · 3 years ago

Text

Pain in my Head

Migraines.

They should be called a pain in Sam's ass. They could also be called a pain in the ass for anyone that has to deal with them. Sam thinks that would be the scientific statement for it, but it's too long.

It's been happening since he was a kid. But it wasn't as bad.

Then he joined the Airforce and it got so much worse. Then he joined the avengers and suddenly he's running through an exploding building getting shot at.

It's been worse ever since.

He's okay most of the time, but once the battle starts it doesn't stop. The pounding and nausea and the dizziness. It took awhile to stop and it hurt like a bitch.

Sarah used to help him, get him things while he curled up into a ball and wished everything would just stop. But he's an adult now and Sarah is off raising her kids and she can't help him anymore.

Anyways that brings him here. Now. At this moment he wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Instead he just stood on the balcony of a nice hotel.

He and Bucky had just gotten back from some goddamn mission where he had like 10 explosions go off right next to his face.

Bucky was bothered to. He had a whole overstimulation thing going on. Mostly just because of the super hearing thing. Things were dialed up from a 2 to a 7. So he was in the shower trying to drown the sound out. Usually that just left a ringing sound for a few hours but nothing horrible.

But Sam never talked about the aching pain in his head. Didn't want to numb down what Bucky was dealing with. Or maybe it was just easier to not explain to someone that he needed help. Maybe he wasn't ready to talk about it.

Sam was only slightly aware of the shower stopping and light padding of Bucky coming out towards the balcony to stand next to him.

"Sam." And his voice was too loud and Sam involuntarily flinched and then mentally cursed himself for it. Cause Bucky in all his 'more observant than the usual person' glory would definitely notice. So maybe he should just tell him.

"You're voice, it's just really loud." Sam muttered. Then when Bucky's face went in between confusion and concern he decided to explain a little more. "I get migraines, and it's worse because of the explosions I guess."

Bucky's eyes went slightly wide and he nodded. "You should try a bath." Sam could note his voice was considerably lower than it was before. Bucky pulled on the other man's hand slightly and led him into the room. "You should sit or lay down too."

Sam plopped on the bed and settled down, watching Bucky move across the room and shuffle through his bag before pulling out a small pill bottle and water. He walked back over to were Sam was and held out the things he was holding. Sam took them, raising an eyebrow. "Where'd you learn how to take care of someone with a migraine?"

Bucky blinked and smiled lightly. "My man used to get them. So did Steve I think, before the serum and everything." He paused to think for a second. "And I have to know a couple things for myself since meds don't work." Then he walked away again towards the bathroom, muttering something about running a bath for the other man.

The thought dawned on Sam. The beautiful sad thought. Medication doesn't usually work on Bucky, but he had it in his bag. Probably-and Sam was just assuming here- for Sam himself. It's not like he has another partner to give the pills to. Damn. Wow.

Bucky poked his head back out of the bathroom and nodded towards the bathtub.

Sam smiled at him lightly and slowly ambled over towards the bathroom.

He didn't even notice his surroundings as he slowly shuffled out his clothes and slowly slid down into the warm water. He only snapped out of his own painful head when Bucky plopped down next to him on the other side of the tub. He was holding a book. Sam eyed the cover trying to see what he was reading now. Last night it was the 'Great Gastby' and tonight apparently it was 'Jurassic Park'

Sam hummed quietly enough so it didn't hurt his own head, letting the water swallow him. "So you're staying huh."

Bucky nodded like it was obvious. "So you don't have to yell if you need anything. Besides, the humidity helps with the hearing overstimulation."

Sam nodded, some form a smug smile taking over his face. "C'mere." He let his hand drag bucky gelty by the back of neck over towards him. Sam kissed him lightly on the cheek. "You're sweet, you know that."

Bucky laughed quietly, a light pink dusting his cheeks. "I like taking care of you, that's all." Bucky blinks like a thought hit him. "Not just when you're in pain, I swear. Just in general. It's nice."

Sam shook his head fondly. "You know I'm not good at asking for help."

"I noticed."

"You notice everything Buck." Sam was still smiling, playing with Bucky's fingers, running his fingers over the smooth metal. "Especially when someone needs help." He paused taking in a breath. "You're just like that. Like I said you're sweet."

Bucky nodded. "I will take care of you for as long as I need to."

"That might be a pretty long time."

"Then I would stay with you for a pretty long time."

Sam stared and smiled. "Look at us, making lifelong promises." He continued to mess with Bucky's metal fingers. "I think I'm okay with that."

And Sam's migraine still made the rest of the night a living hell but at least he had someone to pull him through it. Someone that was more than willing to trudge through fire and Sam's stubbornness to help him. And Bucky had someone willing to do the same thing right back.

Bucky just smiled, like a fool. A fool in love.

Sam's smile mirrored the others.

#sambucky #sam wilson #sambucky headcanons #sambucky fic #bucky barnes #sam needs a hug #and maybe a calming bath #bucky's got that covered #Sam needs love and comfort too you know #winterfalcon

64 notes · View notes

undyingskies · 4 years ago

Text

Pregnancy Scare

Request: yes, “Hi! I never ask anyone for an imagine before so here's me shooting my shoot. Could you please write an imagine about the reader having a pregnancy scare? Maybe she's been feeling a bit sick and Owen makes a joke about her being pregnant and reader realize that she missed her period and the whole pregnancy scare while Owen is besides her supporting her no matter what. Thank you 💗”

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this one! I am hoping to have the Charlie fit out tomorrow, I am not sure yet but it is coming. I have a few more Owen requests to get done and I also have an idea for an Owen fic that maybe a two parter?? If people are into it! Thank you to everyone who has been liking my posts, following me, and sending requests! xoxo

Warnings: Brief mention of sex and moments of anxiety, but other than that it’s mostly just some fluff!

—————————————————

It has been days. Days and days and days of feeling like complete and udder garbage. You couldn’t even turn in your bed without having nausea hit you like a truck.

As many days you haven’t been feeling well is the same amount of days you haven’t left your house and barely spoken to anyone.

You didn’t meant to ghost anyone, especially Owen your boyfriend, but you felt so gross that doing anything but sleep just seemed way too difficult. You just wanted this to end, you wanted to feel normal again.

You hear your front door open and you panic a little but then you hear your boyfriends voice. A smile forming on your face, you did miss him.

“Y/N where are you?? I decided that you couldn’t ignore me if I was here with you.” You hear him chuckle and he makes his way into your room. Practically busting the door open, the sound of it hitting the wall causing you to wince.

Did you mention that on top of the constant nausea, you always had a migraine to just top it off.

Owen notices you wincing and immediately feels bad. He knows you’ve had a migraine for days now and he think to himself that he should have been more careful.

“Aw baby, I’m sorry. I forgot for a second buuuut I do have some medicine for you. I have caffeine pills that will hopefully help with the migraine, as well as advil. I also brought a heating pad for your stomach and some ginger ale too.” He tells you, sitting beside you on your bed. He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“You don’t feel warm or like you have a fever so that must be a good sign.” He tells you.

“I guess, I don’t know what’s going on though.” You tell him moving to sit up and face him. Which was a mistake, a big one. The minute you moved your whole head started to spin and you felt your stomach turn.

You look at Owen panicked. You push him out of your way, your feet landing on the cold floor, taking you to the bathroom as fast as they could. You reach the toilet just in time as your stomach empties itself into the porcelain bowl.

Your stomach continued to empty itself, which is shocking because you’ve barely eaten anything the last few days. Your throat burning and you’re left sitting by the toilet heaving.

You miss Owen coming in the bathroom and sitting beside you on the floor. He has one hand pulling your hair out of your face and the other gently rubbing circles on your back hoping it would help you calm down.

It takes a few minutes for you to calm down and catch your breath again. You push yourself up a little and your back comes in contact with your tub, offering you some support to lean on. You pull your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them. You let your head rest on top of them.

You peak up at Owen and give him the biggest smile you could muster. Which quite frankly is pathetic, which causes him to laugh a little.

He moves again to sit next to you, pulling your body into his side. You lean your head on his shoulder. The two of you just in silence for a little.

“Are you feeling any better now Y/N?”

“I guess, still feel super nauseous.” You tell him. “It’s been so many days now; I just want it to be over.”

“Dude maybe you’re pregnant!” Owen says laughing, thinking his joke would lighten the mood.

That’s when it hits you and it hits you like a truck. Pregnant. Oh my god. You didn’t even realize it but you haven’t had your period this month. How could you not realize that? You start to panic; how could you be so stupid? How did you not notice? You feel your thoughts spiraling.

“You okay baby? What’s going on in that head of yours.” Owen asks you now worried because of the look on your face. He moves your face to look right at him.

“I...I missed my period this month. I didn’t even realize until you just said that. Owen, I could be pregnant!” You say panicked, looking at his face carefully and seeing a similar panicked look come across his face.

“What do you mean Y/N? That can’t be, we haven’t had sex in a while. The last time was...” He trails off and realization hits the both of you.

The last time you guys had sex was on a night out. You both had a few too many drinks and were left giggly and touchy all night. You’re usually both so good at using protection but due to the level of intoxication that night, neither of you were quite sure if you did use it or not.

“Okay, okay. So it is possible.” You say, more panic setting in at this realization. Owen can tell how freaked out you are, between the two of you, you’re usually the one to calm the situation down. This time it has to be him. He grabs both your hands in his.

“Look at me baby. It’s going to be okay, you and I, we will get through this. Let’s just take a breath in and out and calm down first, okay?” He says making direct eye contact with you and breathing in sync with you. You nod and breath with him for a few seconds.

“What are we gonna do O? What if I am pregnant?” You ask, worry setting in again.

“If you’re pregnant then you’re pregnant and we’re gonna be parents. It’s you and I baby. I have your back no matter what.” He tells you with a smile, your nerves slowly starting to calm down.

“How about this, you take a nice warm shower and I will go buy some tests. Do you feel good enough to get in there? I think it’ll help you calm down and feel better.” He asks you. You nod your head yes.

Owen is quick to grab you by your hands and help you stand up. He goes to turn the water on and letting it run so it can get warm for you. He turns to help you pull your sweatshirt, well his sweatshirt, over your head. He leans down to give you a kiss and help you step into the warm water.

Your stress washing down the drain with the water.

“I’ll be right back baby. Take your time and relax okay. I promise it’s nothing to get too worked up over, remember it’s you and I no matter what.” He leans into the shower to give you a kiss goodbye. Then he’s on his way to the store, a blush on his cheeks as he has to purchase pregnancy tests from a stranger.

You let the warm water caress your skin, trying to calm your thoughts down. You can’t help but let them wonder. Owen just started his career, a family would get in the way of that, besides your both still so young, you don’t even live together yet. How is adding a baby to that going to help? Well it’s not going to help, you think.

Sobs start to wrack through your body as you let your intrusive thoughts take over your mind. You don’t know how long you were in the shower or how long Owen was gone but the water started to get cold.

Owen stepped into the apartment and he immediately heard your sobs. He quickly runs into the bathroom and turns the water off. He pulls you out of the shower and wraps the towel around your body, helping warm you up again.

He has your body so close to his, that you couldn’t possibly get closer. He’s placing soft kisses to your head and whispering sweet nothings into your ear hoping to help you calm down.

He hears your sobs quieting down and your breathing start to return to normal.

“What happened baby? When I left you were doing fine.” He asks you worried again.

“I just started thinking about it all. Owen you just started your career, a baby, a family would get in the way of that! Plus we’re so young, how could we manage a family this young? And to top it off we don’t even live together yet, I don’t want a baby forcing us to move in together or force us to move faster than we want too.” You spew out, feeling a little better now that you got everything you were feeling out.

A little nervous at Owen‘s reaction. He places his hands under your chin and has you look at him.

“Baby I told you, it’s you and me. No matter what. None of that stuff matters, my career will be fine. A family and a baby would not ruin that in any way. And yes, we’re young but who cares, we would be able to handle it. A baby would not force us to move faster than we want too, I love you with my whole entire heart Y/N. Maybe it is time to start moving forward.” He tells you maintaining eye contact the whole time. You smile at his words and lean in to kiss him.

“How about you take the test now?” He says placing the box in your hand. He leaves the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

Moment of truth you think to yourself as you open the box and prepare to pee on that little stick.

You set a timer for two minutes and make your way out of the bathroom to sit next to Owen on your bed. Owen has another idea though and pulls you to sit on his lap. You tighten the towel around you and he snuggles his head into your neck.

You breath in and just enjoy this moment with Owen. His hot breath on your neck and his thumbs rubbing small circles on the exposed skin of your legs.

He’s right, it really is him and you, since the moment you guys got together. He has always had your back and never faltered either, you doing the same for him. The love you guys have for each other is that once in a lifetime type of love. You feel your nerves calm down yet again at your thoughts but they spike up once again at your alarm blaring.

Owen lifts his head to look at you.

“Guess this is it.” He says to you, grabbing your hand and you both make your way into the bathroom and to the sink. Your test placed upside down on the sink.

You look at each other and take a deep breath in as you move to flip the test over.

*Not Pregnant* it reads. A sigh of relief leaving both of your lips. You turn to look at each other and laugh a little.

“Is it bad that I am relieved?” He asks you, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“No, not at all because same.” You tell him and lean in to give him a kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist.

“Thank you for being so sweet and the calm one throughout this.”

“Of course baby. Like I said the whole time it’s you and me, no matter what.” He leans in to give you a sweet kiss, all your negative and nervous thoughts fading at his words and lips on yours.

You really were so lucky to have him.

“Now how about that moving forward thing we were talking about. Maybe it is time to move in together?” He asks you his tone full of hopefulness.

“I think that’s a great idea.” You say smiling up at him. He leans in for another kiss.

You were now moving in with the love of your life and you could not be happier. The future was bright for the two of you.

#owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #owen x reader #owen joyner imagine #owenjoynerimagines #owen joyner x reader #owen joyner x y/n #owen joyner fic #owen joyner fanfiction #owen joyner fluff #julie and the phantoms #jatp #julieandthephantomsimagine

225 notes · View notes

myelocin · 4 years ago

Text

iwaizumi hajime, 27, athletic trainer.

synopsis: maybe sometimes getting locked out of your own apartment at two in the morning and being too kind to slam on the door and wake up your neighbors might have advantages of its own. the advantage being? iwaizumi hajime, 27, athletic trainer.

characters: iwaizumi hajime, 27, athletic trainer, you

genre: fluff n a little banter also iwaizumi is hot tq very much

wc: 1200+

a/n: this serves as req #21 for stories in passing, for 💛 anon

Today was not your day, you decide.

It’s 2:18 AM, and you’re standing outside your apartment door where you and your roommate just moved into and you find out that she accidentally bolted the lock from the inside, effectively locking you out of your own place.

“Why didn’t you just call me?” you could practically hear her voice chide you already, but at the same time, you’re ready to show her the thirty unanswered calls all from your phone to hers registered in your call log.

You know she’d probably just smile at you all sheepish, like she does when she forgets to pick up the one thing you ask for her to when it was her turn to get the groceries and that would be enough for you to forgive her just like that.

“Because you looove me,” you hear her voice chime out to you once again, and you groan, running your face over your hands as you will yourself to not kick and pound at the door to force her awake.

You sigh; as much as you love her and the thought of sinking into bed after a long night out, you also love the reputation you have with your neighbors and pounding at the door when it’s two in the morning would just about to the trick and erase that.

So you retort to sitting on the floor with your back pressed against the door and a migraine threatening to brew in your temples.

Except, of course, the universe wouldn’t let you catch a break because as soon as you slide down and face up, you’re face to face with the tenant living across you with his keys in one hand and a look of confusion etched on his face.

You suppose you should explain yourself when he opens his mouth, but he beats you to it.

“Let me guess,” he starts. “Either you locked yourself out, or your roommate locked you out from inside and now won’t answer your call because they sleep like the dead?”

“The second one, bingo,” you comment dryly, raising your phone and showing him your call log.

“Damn,” he laughs. “Good job on not waking up the neighbors though.”

“I’m a considerate woman,” you shrug, leaning against the wall.

“I guess I should be a considerate man then and at least let you wait in my apartment?” he offers, unlocking his door and holding it open for you.

“Inviting a stranger into your house? Is that a good idea?” you laugh.

Your neighbor looks at you, smirking. “I’ve noticed you since you moved in and haven’t even introduced myself despite living literally right across you. This is the least I could do.”

“I don’t know,” you say, balancing yourself on the door frame as you stand up. “Sounds like something a serial killer would say before they do the do.”

“Do the do?” he snorts, chuckling at your choice of words. He pushes the door open and stands to the side as he motions for you to enter first.

“Yeah, like, when they go in for the kill or something,” you snort.

“But here you are anyway, inside a stranger’s apartment anyway at two in the morning because you got locked out,” he laughs, crossing his arms over his chest as he faces you.

“Kidding,” he laughs. “Take a seat and make yourself feel at home.”

“Will do, serial killer,” you bite back with a laugh, taking a seat on the couch to your left.

Glancing around the space, you look around the room, automatically noticing the stack of comic books haphazardly tethering on the edge of the shelf next to a few DVDs of the different Godzilla movies. A few framed photographs lined the wall—mostly of the same group of people just in different poses and locations.

Looks like he had himself a group of lasting friends.

“Beer?” he asks, gesturing to the cans he placed on the center table as he takes a seat on the armchair to your right.

You tell him a quiet thanks as you grab one of the cans, pulling the tab open, and clinking it against his as you watch him take a sip and lean back on the chair.

“So do you usually invite strangers to have beer with you at your apartment at two in the morning?” you question, mirth in your tone.

“Iwaizumi Hajime, 27, athletic trainer,” he announces, facing you.

He laughs when stare back at him, mouth hanging open, undoubtedly a question at the tip of your tongue.

“Now you know my name. We’re not strangers anymore, so now, you’re just sharing beer with someone you know at 2 in the morning. Makes it a little less weird if you look at it that way.”

“Does it?” you laugh, tipping back the can and taking a hefty gulp.

“You could always just wait back outside indefinitely,” Iwaizumi jokes.

You laugh, leaning back against the seat, as you return his stare with a pout. “Kidding! I’m (y/n), nice to officially meet you after a few weeks of moving in.”

“Cheers to that,” he laughs, raising his can as you laugh and clink yours with his as you meet halfway.

From the three hours that your friend decides to peacefully sleep through, it’s sometime a little over five am where the two of you jolt to some frantic knocking at your newfound friend’s door.

“Nice of you to remember that you have a roommate,” you comment, holding open the door and standing to the side as Iwaizumi leans against the frame and laughs at her apology.

“It’s alright, (y/n)’s not that bad of a company,” he laughs, winking at you.

“You’re making it sound like I’m barely just passing your standards,” you groan as you step out into the hallway and push your friend towards the entrance to your own apartment.

“Thanks for the company, and uhh, beer,” you smile. “I did not expect for her to sleep through three more hours.”

“Don’t sweat it, you have my number now don’t you? Don’t hesitate to ring me up if she ends up locking you out again.”

Iwaizumi across you laughs and crosses his arms over his chest, a habit of his you took note of. You didn’t mind though, he looked good. Anyone with eyes could easily come to that conclusion. Tan skin, green eyes, strong build, spikey hair, and a witty mouth to boot.

Safe to say, your neighbor seemed to be just your type.

“Again?” you tease. “It’s like you’re hoping that I’m gonna get locked out again just so you could keep me company.”

“Conversation with you isn’t bad, I guess,” he laughs before waving at you when you laugh and motion to shut your door.

It should have been the other way around, you think. Conversation with him, wasn’t bad. He was witty with his mouth, but was polite where it counted. Knew his boundaries too.

Three hours passed by rather quickly through a plethora of jokes, interesting topics, and talks about nothing. You smiled.

“I know that smile, (y/n),” your friend comments, yawning as she makes her way back to her room. “I’ll be sure to lock you out again if you need me to!” she finishes with a laugh.

You roll your eyes at her words, then think back to your neighbor.

To Iwaizumi Hajime who was 27 and was also an athletic trainer.

You decided that maybe, something about today was going your way for once.

495 notes · View notes

derekmorganscrocs · 4 years ago

Text

Galentines Gone Wrong

Pairing: Wendell Bray x Reader, Valentine’s Special.

Word Count: 2,623

Summary: Y/n Booth is an FBI agent who works under her brother Seeley Booth and is also partnered with the Jeffersonian. Valentines rolls around and Cam, Daisy, and Y/n are all painfully single. Brennen and Angela join in and the group decides it’s girls night, get absolutely smashed, cause major chaos and get arrested for disturbing the peace. When their counterparts show up to bail them out, girls night turns to date night... or whatever this is.

Edit, March 11th: I hate the end of this. I reread it and it’s lowkey trash, but I’m going to keep it up because people seem to be enjoying it. Just a disclaimer that this is not my best work.

Notes: Tbh I second guessed this yesterday, hence the late post. I want to clarify that Wendell IS NOT preying on a drunk girl, and there was no drunk hookup. This is definitely not my favourite thing I’ve written and I was so out of ideas for the ending, but fck it, I have a migraine and feel like the personification of death. ALSO I WOULD NEVER USE GALENTINES IRL IK ITS LAME BUT I SIMPLY DO NOT CARE. HOLDIDAY SPIRIT BABES. Anyway, on with the show.

It’s been a long night. Fun, but long. You wake up against Daisy’s side, stretching lazily, and still partially drunkenly. As you sit up, you recall the events that led to your current seat in a drunk tank.

The five of you ended up in a biker bar, huge leather-clad and big bearded dudes all over the damn place. Despite being big scary bikers, they were chill and actually bought half of your drinks. Then you and Daisy got a little too close to an attractive younger biker, and his girlfriend was not having it. So an argument turned full on brawl caused the lot of you to bail out of the bar and trek back into town.

Only you were real rowdy, laughing and singing, a little to loudly for anyone’s liking. And got the cops called on you. And got thrown in a dunk tank. Unfortunately “you can’t arrest me, I am the law” doesn’t work if you’re drunk. The cops weren’t a fan of your badge, either.

You’re torn from your thoughts at the sound of voices down the hall, and you stumble over the the bars of the cell, holding onto them for balance. A half-hour nap didn’t do much to sober you up. The voices get closer, and your friends and brother walk in. Wendell’s the first one you notice, your eyes immediately darting to him. He’s wearing a hot ass black jacket, jeans and a white T-shirt, and you stare at him for a lot longer than you should.

“Hey, BJ. Never thought I’d see you on the other side of the bars.” Hodgins laughs at your expression of annoyance, and lets the cop they’re with open the cell door. He walks over to grab Angela, and you scoff.

“I told you to stop calling me BJ. I know you mean Booth Junior, but other people might think something else,” you mutter, much less than impressed at the innuendo tied to the nickname.

Your brother and Sweets go collect Brennan and Daisy, and Cam stands up on her own. She’s the most level-headed of all of you, and she’s completely sobered up now. Wendell walks to your side, your brother is too occupied with his (much less coordinated than you are) wife. Wendell puts an arm around you, and you gladly lean into him, hands settling on his chest.

“You’ll never guess what we did,” you giggle drunkenly against Wendell’s chest, overcome with the giddiness of a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Apparently you guys disturbed a lot of peace.” Wendell has somewhat of an impressed/concerned/entertained smirk on his face. He looks down at you, massively interested in the story as to how you got here. Not that he’ll hear it anytime soon.

“How’d you know?!” You look up at him with surprise written all over your face, a gasp escaping your lips, and it takes a lot for him not to burst out laughing.

“The sheriff told me. Let’s take you home, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble, much more sullenly than five seconds ago.

Wendell keeps an arm around you, more than a little worried that you’re gonna fall over, and takes you to his car. You get in the front seat, smacking his hand away as he tries to help with your seatbelt. After successfully buckling the seatbelt, you glance back at him with a smirk.

“You know if you wanted to get on top of me all you had to do was ask.”

Wendell nearly chokes and dies at what you’re insinuating. He’s also not sure if this is the tequila talking or if it’s you talking. Composing himself quickly, he lets out a chuckle, saying something along the lines of ‘okay then,’ and closes the door for you. He walks around the front of the car, making his way to the driver’s seat. Hodgins drives by, Angela and Cam in the car with him, and waves as he heads home.

Seeley pulls up beside Wendell, looking at him sternly. Daisy and Brennen are singing in the back seat, and Wendell can see Sweets in the front seat, holding back laughter. It’s a funny sight really, the usually stoic Dr. Brennen and overly excitable Daisy, swaying together in the back seat singing an off-key rendition of piano man. Seeley makes a face at a certain piercing high note that comes from Dr. Brennan, before turning to Wendell.

“Listen man, I appreciate it. If we didn’t live on the opposite side of town, I’d take her home.” Seeley leans out the window slightly, looking at Wendell.

“It’s no problem, really.” Wendell smiles, giving your brother a small wave as he turns to get in his car. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

“Wait! Not that I think you will, but don’t try anything. Alright?”

“Course not, man. Don’t worry, I got this. Head home, I’ll text you when I get Y/n home.” Wendell knows your brother means no harm, obviously, yet can’t help but think about why he’d even think to say that to him.

When he gets back in the car, seeing you sleeping soundly in the passenger seat, curled up and leaning against the window, his worries melt away and he smiles. He turns the car on and lowers the radio volume before driving off.

Tonight summarizes the two of you pretty well, actually. Y/n, the chaotic do-good-er badass, and Wendell, the (sometimes also chaotic) best friend, who always has your back. Sometimes it pains him that you only see him as that, a best friend, but he’s okay with just being that. A friend. Because it means he gets to see you happy. Little does he know, you wouldn’t have gotten so sauced tonight if you weren’t drinking away the thoughts of his lips on yours, his skin pressed against yours as the night turns to morning, the idea of a spark that doesn’t exist. The day of love sucks.

And for some reason, neither of you can see that you’re crazy about each other. Maybe it’s because you’re afraid to ruin what you have, or maybe it’s because you’re both just oblivious, but it doesn’t make a huge difference. Nothing seems to be happening.

Wendell is occupied with a lot of thoughts as he drives to your place. His mind bounces all over the place. He thinks about how you met, when you first walked into the Jeffersonian covered in dirt and sweat (in a cute way... even though he thinks anything is cute on you) after a chase in the desert, just to see your brother and make sure he was okay. He also thinks about the time he literally ran into you and the two of you fell down the platform stairs. The alarms went off, and everyone stared at the pair of you tangled up on the floor. Needless to say it took a while to live that one down. He thinks about every time he’s seen you laugh, and the few that he’s seen you cry. Not that you really even cried, you just couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You don’t exactly do emotions, not out in the open at least.

He thinks about every reason he’s so smitten with you. You’re courageous, selfless, you protect your friends and family, you’re cutthroat and ferocious, yet simultaneously the sweetest person he’s ever met. You care about every detail of his day when you ask how he’s doing, and you can tell when the slightest thing is off with him, or anyone else at the lab, except for noticing his flaming crush on you. And as he thinks about all the little things, he realizes it can’t stay bottled up forever. He has to tell you.

Before long, you’re home. The two and a half hour drive have Wendell a lot of time to think, yet somehow it also feels like he’s had no time at all. The time has also started your trail toward sobriety, and you can at least think coherently. Wendell wakes you, and when you wake up, your hand goes to your head.

“Good god. Did I get hit by a bus?” Your words are still slightly jumbled together, but you’re getting back to business as usual, and that’s good enough.

“There she is,” he singsongs playfully, glad to see your usual demeanour starting to return. You unbuckle your seatbelt, groaning when you go to move. Wendell offers you a hand, and you take it.

Helping you up, he puts an arm around your waist again. You stumble slightly, and when he catches you, you fall against him, leaning against his chest. He ends up just scooping you up off the ground and carrying you inside, placing you on the couch. You’re mostly in good shape, just awful clumsy and distracted due to your headache. Wendell heads into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and some crackers.

“How you doing?” He sits by your thigh, putting an arm on the back of the couch and looking over at you. You cover your face with your hands, laughing gently.

“Ugh, please tell me I didn’t actually make the worst sex implication joke ever.”

“Um...”

“Oh shit. This is embarrassing.” You sit up, still a little tipsy, but not as messed up as you were at the police station. Maybe if things go off you can play it off as Valentine’s tequila. “Fuck it. I’m just gonna go for it. Tonight was fun or whatever, but I really wanted to spend it with you.”

“We could’ve done that. We can hang out this weekend if you want.”

“No, no. You really are a blonde.” You laugh, nudging his shoulder with your fist. Suddenly nervous, you start to ramble. “Not that that’s bad, because you’re definitely pretty. You’re a cute blonde, and you do have really nice arms, they’re really toned, and you know, at the garage you wear these tight shirts and sometimes I just stare and I worry you see, but-“

“Y/n! You’re getting off track here.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, laughing at your rambles. “Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow.”

“I like you a lot.” The words are out of your mouth before he’s even finished his sentence. “Like I have feelings for you?” It comes out like a question, but it’s meant as more of a fearful statement.

“Wait, really?” His eyes widen and his smile falls. At first you think he’s about to run for the hills, but when a small smile appears on his face you’re not so sure.

“Ah, shit, I shouldn’t have said anything,” you curse, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity. That’s fuckin embarrassing.

“No, I like you, too. A lot.” Wendell takes your hand, and you lay against his side as he keeps talking. “We can talk more, when you’re sober. But I do like you. And I think that if we decided that this weekend’s hangout was more ‘ice skating in the park’ instead of ‘trying to kill each other at the rink’, I’d be more than okay with that. I’d like that a lot, actually.” He lets out a small, nervous chuckle, and he glances down at you, fingers grazing your cheek as he contemplates if it would be weird to cup your face with his hand and run his thumb over your cheek.

“Really?” You look up at him with an adorable awestruck expression, and he nearly bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, really.” A smile stays glued to his face, and he shifts slightly, which causes you to sit up. “Now, you should probably go to bed, so that you’re not completely useless tomorrow.”

Wendell plants a small kiss on the top of your head, before standing and scooping you up, bringing you to your room. He drops you gently on your bed, and you let out a small giggle as you bounce slightly with the impact. You banish him from your room so that you can change, and not really paying attention, grab a black hoodie and shorts out of your closet. When you open the door again, he’s just leaning against the wall outside.

“Sorry, I didn’t know where you wanted me to set up- is that my hoodie? I’ve been looking for that!”

“Huh?” You look down at the sweater, seeing the small Jeffersonian logo on the left side of the chest, and the initials on the sleeve. “Oh, I guess it is.” You remember when he gave it to you, he couldn’t stand the idea of you remaining in your blood soaked T-shirt, the grey had become a sticky maroon, too much so to be comfortable. “You can have it back-“

“No, you keep it.” He steps closer, lifting your chin so that you look at him, and brushing a stray hair out of your face. His voice drops, becoming softer and breathy. “It’s much cuter on you anyway,” he murmurs, making you blush profusely, a little laugh escaping your lips.

The two of you fall silent, each staring at the other’s lips. A hum comes from the furnace, causing you both to startle slightly, and it ends the moment. You glance back at Wendell again, before sitting on your bed. He tilts his head at you, mildly confused as to what you’re doing.

“Where did you want me to sleep?”

“Wherever you want. There’s blankets and a few pillows in the closet.”

He thanks you and walks out, and you breathe in deeply, not realizing how shallow your breathing had become. Your mind is racing, and so is your heart. This is simultaneously about the best and worst Valentine’s you’ve ever had. As you mull over the events of tonight, you slide under the blankets, laying back and staring at the ceiling. The shuffling in your living room comes to a stop, and you can hear Wendell coming back to your room. He stops in the doorway.

“Came back to say goodnight,” he says softly, making your heart melt.

“You mind staying for a while?” You sit up, looking at him. He glances over his shoulder at you, a perplexed expression plastered on his face. “What?! I’ve had a rough night,” you say, pretending to be offended. He makes his way over, laying on your bed, on top of the blankets. You roll over and face him, looking up at him lazily. “Goodnight, Wendell.”

You drift off to sleep fairly quickly, but not before you subconsciously lay your head on his chest. He’s terrified at first, frozen in place and afraid to breathe, but after a few minutes he collects himself and calms down. You sleep soundly, curled up beside Wendell. He’s warm and he smells good, and he’s pretty comfortable. By the morning, the two of you are completely intertwined, tangled in blankets and each others’ arms.

The two of you grab a greasy breakfast (and some Advil) and spend the day together, actually talking about what happened the night before. Most of the day is spent at your place, you and Wendell lounging around on your couch as you binge watch your favourite series and try to overcome your hangover.

The next days and weeks fly by, you and Wendell getting closer and closer. The pair of you go on a few dates before things are made official, Wendell going as far as taking you on a walk in the snow and officially asking you out by the outdoor rink. He even reserved ice time so the two of you could skate around like idiots and pass a puck around.

And eventually, when people start to see you’re together, and ask about your story, you have to tell them he bailed you out of jail after Galantine’s gone wrong.

#bones #wendell bray x reader #wendell bray #seeley booth #cam saroyan #temperance brennan #angela montenegro #daisy wick #y/n #bonestv #x reader #wendell bray x you #happy galentines #happy valentine’s #valentines

129 notes · View notes

cuddlepilefics · 3 years ago

Text

Migraine

Fandom: GOT7

Sickie: Mark

Caregiver: Jackson & Jinyoung

Prompt: @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Being the quietest member certainly had its perks, Mark realized when he woke up feeling off. He didn’t know what exactly was wrong, so he didn’t want to worry his friends. Throughout breakfast, the oldest had been quiet but nobody thought much of it, as he was always quiet. What Mark didn’t know was that his roommate had noticed. Jackson knew the older very well, as you do after living together for years. He could tell his hyung wasn’t feeling himself, though he couldn’t tell exactly what was wrong or what had given it away. It was more like a gut-feeling, that something wasn’t right. Jackson was relieved that they’d spend the entire day at the studio because he couldn’t imagine Mark would be up for dancing today. They’d have a lot of recording to do, which wasn’t too stressful and consisted mainly of revising lyrics and waiting for their turn to record. Maybe the oldest could take a nap until he had to record and would be fine with just a little more rest. Going back to their room to get ready to head out, Jackson got only more worried. It was his hyung’s clothing choice that stuck out to Jackson like a red flag. Mark had that extremely old and washed-out hoodie, which he had brought from the US when he first came to Korea to train. By now, it was far from fashionable and served more as a comfort item, which the rapper usually wore when he didn’t feel well or was home-sick. Him putting it on now, confirmed the younger’s suspicions.

“Hyung, are you feeling alright?”, Jackson asked, barely stopping the older from leaving their shared room. Mark turned around and looked at him confused, muttering: “Sure, why?” – "You’re wearing that hoodie. You always wear it when you don’t feel good”, Jackson pointed out. Glancing down his outfit, the oldest realized that his dongsaeng was right. He just hadn’t expected anyone to pick up on it. Shrugging, he replied: “I feel a bit off, maybe didn’t sleep enough.” Jackson nodded, not fully buying it but following his hyung to the living room anyway. They waited for everyone else to finish up and then headed out together. During their drive to the studio, Mark started to question himself. Jackson’s comment had sparked his worry. He hadn’t put on that hoodie deliberately, it had just happened on top of already feeling weird. What was going on with him? Being so deep in thought, he didn’t even notice how they pulled up in front of the company building. “Are you coming, hyung?”, Jaebeom’s voice startled him from his thoughts and Mark nodded quickly, wincing when the fast movement caused his head to ache. He quickly climbed out of the vehicle, stumbling a bit before he was able to get his footing. Watching him stumble, Jackson linked their arms and walked him up to their studio. The older couldn’t help but be flustered. He felt fine, right? He didn’t need help to walk.

Jackson was the first one to record with Jaebeom as the producer, so Mark sat with the rest of the members, revising his lyrics and warming up his voice. The headache he had gotten from nodding his head to fast earlier was still lingering, so he decided his voice was warmed up enough and quietly sat there, reading over his lyrics. Or rather, pretending to read over his lyrics as they were blurring together in front of his eyes. The rapper winced, massaging his temples. Maybe that was why he had been feeling off. He carefully reached for his water bottle and took a few sips before going back to revising. The headache only increased the longer he looked at the small-print, so he closed his eyes for a few seconds, quickly opening them again as he felt the room spinning. It took Mark a while to put the pieces together. Every now and again, he suffered from migraines and this felt like the beginning of one. The odd feeling this morning, the ache from moving too fast and the dizziness. It all made sense now. From this point on, Mark knew it would only get worse as the day progressed but what could he do about it? They had deadlines for their new album and he didn’t want to hold them back. He had to record now because they had a too tight schedule to postpone his recording. Anxiously glancing towards the recording booth, the rapper made up his mind. As soon as Jackson would be done, he’d convince the others to let him record next. He should get it over with as soon as possible before getting too useless and miserable later.

Mark tried to speak up when Jackson exited the recording booth but for some reason, he felt frozen in his spot. Jinyoung went in to record next as the oldest sat motionlessly in his seat. “You okay?”, Jackson mouthed, sitting down next to him and nudging his shoulder to get his attention. The older nodded before realizing his mistake and scrunching his face up in pain at the movement. Jackson obviously didn’t believe him after that, pulling out his phone to text Mark that he looked awful and was acting far from okay. Knowing he couldn’t look at his bright phone screen, Mark leaned closer to his dongsaeng and whispered barely audible: “’m developing a migraine.” He could see shock and understanding flash across the younger’s face within a split second before Jackson replied as quietly: “How bad is it yet and when did it start?” – “Started when I got out of the car and it’s not too bad yet. My head hurts but it’s bearable and my stomach’s starting to churn a bit”, Mark answered truthfully, aware that the younger would immediately assume the worst if he didn’t. "Do you want some water and do you have your medicine with you?”, Jackson worried. Closing his eyes, the oldest hummed: “Already had lots of water, my meds are at home.” He knew that he was supposed to take his medication with him for situations like this but somehow, he had forgotten and didn’t find the energy to scold himself for it now. He kept his eyes closed, as Jackson wordlessly started to massage his neck, helping him to relax.

When Jinyoung exited the recording booth, Jackson was quick to speak up, announcing that Mark was going next. He had taken care of the older on similar occasions before and was well aware that his hyung would only be getting worse from, especially without his migraine medication. Mark shot him a grateful smile before forcing himself up from the couch. He swayed dangerously for a moment before making his way into the recording booth on wobbly legs. His vision blurred as the rapper stood behind the mic. Just standing on his own two feet had made the pain a lot worse, the pounding being all Mark could focus on. He knew he couldn’t put anymore pressure on his head if he didn’t want it to explode but reached for the headphones anyway. His hands shook as he put them on painfully slow. He had torn them off again in barely half the time he had needed to put them on, crying in pain as he fell to his knees. His head spun and his stomach churned. At first, he didn’t even notice the hand on his back, which later turned out to belong to Jackson, who had barged into the booth the second Mark had cried out. He had kept a closer eye on his hyung ever since he admitted to suffering from another migraine.

The members felt helpless as their oldest cried in pain on the floor of the recording booth. Jackson held him, soothingly rubbing his back, but was unable to provide enough comfort. By the way Mark clutched his head, they knew he had a migraine, having witnessed it a couple of times over the course of their career, so Jinyoung turned off the lights and quietly approached the pair with a bottle of water. “Hyung, do you think you can stomach some water?”, he asked carefully. The older replied tensely: “I-I need to be sick.” Quickly scooping him up, Jackson tried to get to the bathroom as fast as possible without jostling his sick hyung too much. Mark had already turned a few shades paler by the time they made it there and relied on the younger’s support to keep himself upright in front of the toilet. His stomach lurched, causing him to pitch forward, and he was grateful for Jackson’s strong arm steadying him. The younger couldn’t help but feel his heart break at his hyung’s pained groans in between the heaves. It didn’t help that Mark had barely eaten anything during breakfast, so after all the water was out, he struggled to bring anything up. He was surprised his head was still in one piece as it felt like exploding over and over again from the strain. After what felt like an eternity, the heaves slowly tapered and Mark weakly slumped back against Jackson’s chest, who tightened his hold on the older. The younger gently brushed his hyung’s sweaty hair out of his eyes before reaching for some toilet paper to clean him up.

“Are you ready to go home now?”, Jackson asked quietly. He only knew that Mark was still awake because his face was contorted in pain. Tearing up, the older whimpered: “I-I can’t go home. We have deadlines.” – “Hyung, you won’t be able to record like this anyway. You look like a corpse and I’m afraid you might become one if you don’t rest soon”, Jackson retorted, “I finished already, I can take you home. Doesn’t your bed sound really tempting, right now?” – “It does”, Mark had to admit hoarsely. Still shaky on his legs, he allowed his dongsaeng to pull him to his feet and onto his back. Trying to keep his steps light, Jackson carried him back to the studio, so they could inform the others about leaving. “I’ll come with you, I’m done already too”, Jinyoung announced, collecting their belongings while Jaebeom called them a driver. Mark kept his eyes closed through all of it, reminding himself that gritting his teeth would only make the pain worse. Suddenly there was a gently hand on his head, stroking his hair, and he heard Jaebeom’s voice close to his ear. “Get some rest and don’t worry about our deadlines, I’ll reschedule the recording for you”, the leader hummed softly. Mark replied with a sleepy: “Thanks.” Then he felt Jackson move and Jinyoung instructed: “Keep your eyes closed, we’re almost outside and it’s rather sunny.” It wasn’t like Mark had any motivation to open his eyes anyway, so he let his dongsaeng’s take him to the car. Jinyoung got in first and helped Mark find his seat too. While he buckled the oldest’s seatbelt, Jackson got in on the other side, buckling himself up too before adjusting the air conditioning.

They spent the ride in silence with Mark resting on Jinyoung’s shoulder and Jackson holding his hand for emotional support. The older was so out of it that he didn’t pay any attention to the other two distributing tasks as they pulled up in front of their dorm building. Jinyoung unbuckled their seatbelts before going ahead to the dorm to let the other two in and Jackson helped the dizzy Mark out of the vehicle and onto his back again. They made their way to the dorm much slower than their dongsaeng, who took off Mark’s shoes while Jackson struggled out of his. He then carried the oldest straight to their room and lowered him on his bed. “Shorts or sweatpants?”, he hummed, opening his hyung’s closet. Peeling himself out of his jeans, Mark muttered: “Shorts please.” He changed with some difficulties before laying down and pulling his pillow over his head. While Jackson closed the blinds, Jinyoung came in with a bucket, some water and his hyung’s migraine medication. “Hyung, can you sit up for a moment? I’ve got your meds”, the vocalist whispered, gently removing the pillow. Before even trying to sit up, the older warned: “I-I might need to be sick again.” – “That’s okay, I brought a bucket but try to keep the pills in as long as possible”, Jinyoung assured, helping his hyung to sit up. Mark downed the pills with only a few small sips of water, afraid they’d come right back up. Jackson had ventured into the kitchen and collected two icepacks, while his dongsaeng helped Mark get under the blanket properly. “Wait”, he hummed lowly, returning to their room, “Lay your head on my lap.” Sitting down against the wall close to the headboard, Jackson settled the older’s head on his thigh and gently slipped one icepack under his neck before placing the other on his forehead. “Alright, you can go to sleep now, hyung”, the younger rapper smiled, playing with Mark’s hair. Jinyoung sat down on Jackson’s bed, whispering: “I hope you feel better when you wake up.”

#got7 #fanfic #fanfiction #sick #sickfic #sicktember2021 #fluff #comfort #markson

24 notes · View notes

chickwiththepurpleguitar · 4 years ago

Note

congrats on 500!!! 🥳

can i request boggie (romantic or platonic) and “can i hold your hand?” 🥺

Thanks bestie!! This is my longest prompt fill so far lol, it kind of got away from me. This is my very first time writing Boggie, and my first time writing in Reggie’s POV, so have fun. Also you asked for sensory overload Bobby but I didn’t think I could do that justice so I did migraine Bobby instead. This technically takes place in my headcanon universe of my longfic, but you don’t need to have read that to understand this. Hope you like it!

Bobby’s gone.

Reggie doesn’t think anyone but him has noticed yet. Luke and Alex are too busy arguing with each other (good-naturedly, with no real anger or malice; Reggie can always tell the difference, without even having to pay attention to what they’re arguing about, though this time he’s pretty sure it has something to do with which color m&m is superior).

But anyway, Luke and Alex aren’t paying attention to anything but each other, and Bobby slipped out twenty minutes ago with a pained expression and a mumbled excuse and he hasn’t come back yet, and apparently only Reggie has noticed.

He’s not sure what he should do about it, though. Reggie likes Bobby—he’s a great guitar player, and his movie collection is unparalleled, and one time when Reggie showed up at school with a black eye, Bobby got suspended for two weeks because he decked a guy who tried to make fun of Reggie for it—but as much as Reggie would like him and Bobby to be friends, it can’t be denied that Bobby is… well… Luke’s. And not just because Luke is even more touchy-feely with Bobby than he is with everyone else, or because Luke spends every other night sharing Bobby’s bed because he has nightmares (something Reggie doesn’t think he’s actually supposed to know), or because whenever Luke and Bobby are in a room together, they can’t stop looking at each other. But also because the only reason Bobby joined the band in the first place was because he was there for Luke when Reggie and Alex weren’t. He was Luke’s best friend when Reggie failed to be.

And Reggie hates to take sides (especially because Luke once got really mad at him and literally accused him of taking sides), but if Luke is on Bobby’s and Alex is sorta vaguely not, Reggie feels like he’s kind of statistically obligated to balance it out. So as much as they’re all a band, and as much as Luke will always be Reggie’s first and best friend, and as much as Reggie would love to get closer to their rhythm guitarist, sometimes they just can’t help pairing off, and when they do, Sunset Curve becomes, well, Luke and Bobby—Reggie and Alex.

But anyway. Reggie checks his watch. Bobby has now been gone twenty-five minutes, and Luke and Alex have moved on to discussing which animated m&m from the commercials they would date if given the option, and Reggie’s starting to get a little worried.

“Hey, guys?” he says, putting aside the bass he’d been sort of plucking at. “Can you shut up for a second?”

Luke and Alex immediately stop their bickering and turn to look at him, faces lit with matching concern. “Yeah, Reg?” Alex says gently.

“You okay, bro?”

Reggie manages a smile. They both know him so well. He gives a quick shake of his head to assure them he’s fine, their arguing wasn’t too much (later, once he’s sure Bobby’s okay, he might even put his two cents in, since the answer to both debates is obviously Green). “Do you know where Bobby went? He hasn’t come back yet.”

Alex frowns, and Luke looks around the studio as if he’s just then realizing that Bobby’s not still sitting on the couch next to him where he was half an hour ago.

“Where’d he go?” Luke gets up off the couch and clambers over the coffee table to cross the studio, past Reggie and Alex. He hauls open one of the doors and peers out into the driveway, then frowns back over his shoulder at them. “I don’t see him. He must’ve gone into the house.” A flash of something crosses his expression and he glances nervously from Reggie to Alex and back again. “I—I’d go look for him, but I don’t know if his parents are home, the car’s here.”

“I’ll go,” Reggie offers before it can become a thing, the fact that Bobby is Luke’s but Luke can’t even go after him when he leaves the studio because Luke is a missing person who Bobby’s parents don’t know lives in their garage.

“Thanks, Reg,” Luke says, and Reggie gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder as he passes.

Reggie doesn’t have to go far. He follows the path up from the driveway and catches sight of Bobby right away, sitting on his front porch with his face buried in his knees and his arms wrapped protectively around his head.

“Hey, there you are!” Reggie calls out without thinking, and then regrets it when Bobby’s head snaps up and he flinches with his whole body, a tiny whimper escaping his mouth just loud enough for Reggie to hear across the garden. Bobby’s face is so pale it’s almost green, and his eyes are hidden behind these thick dark sunglasses Reggie’s never seen him wear before.

Reggie’s heart lurches, and he hurries up the rest of the path. He sinks gently onto the porch step next to Bobby and asks as quietly as he can, “Bobby, what’s wrong?”

Bobby shoots him a shaky, unconvincing smile and whips his shades off. “Nothing, Reg, I’m—fuck.” Reggie gets half a glimpse of Bobby’s eyes—squinty and dull and full of so much pain—before Bobby goes another shade whiter, shoves his sunglasses back on, and presses his face into his lap with a groan.

Reggie’s concern spikes. He hovers a hand over Bobby’s shoulder, wanting to help but not sure if touching him when he’s like this will only make things worse. “Bobby? What—what’s going on with you, man? You’re scaring me.”

Bobby gives a miniscule shake of his head, still hidden in his folded arms. “I—it’s just… headache,” he mumbles, the words slow and slurred and muffled like even just opening his mouth too wide hurts him. He breathes heavily for a moment or two, then adds, “Really bad headache.”

“Oh.” Somehow, that’s… not what Reggie thought was happening here. Part of him relaxes some, even though his worry doesn’t lessen.

If Bobby were having a panic attack, like Alex gets sometimes, or one of those everything’s too much feelings that make it physically impossible for Luke to wear sleeves most days, then Reggie wouldn’t know what to do, how to help. Stuff like that is too personal, too individualized, and Reggie doesn’t know Bobby that well. But pain—physical pain—that, Reggie can deal with. That, Reggie knows all too well.

“Can I get you anything? What do you need?”

Bobby’s quiet for a moment, then: “Dark. Cold. Quiet… Maybe some medicine if I can keep it down.”

Reggie nods, even though he knows Bobby can’t see him. “We can do that. Is there a reason you were sitting out here in the first place? Probably easier to get dark and cold and quiet in your room, don’t you think?” He cranes his neck to see Bobby’s window above the porch roof. Reggie’s only been in there a handful of times, but if Bobby gets these headaches often, the blackout curtains on Bobby’s bedroom window suddenly make a lot more sense.

(Though, Reggie can’t help but wonder, if Bobby gets these headaches often, how has Reggie never noticed before?)

“Dizzy,” Bobby mumbles, and Reggie cuts his gaze sharply back to him. It takes a second to register that Bobby’s answering Reggie’s question and not necessarily describing how he feels now. “Couldn’t… stairs.” A pause thick enough for Reggie to get the sense there’s more, and then Bobby admits, his voice smaller than Reggie’s ever heard it, “Tried to ignore it too long. Been kinda coming on all day, but I didn’t wanna ruin rehearsal.”

Reggie’s heart gives a pang of sympathy. He makes a mental note to give Bobby a talk later, when he’s feeling better, about hiding stuff like this—and then maybe he’ll give Luke and Alex (and himself) a talk about whatever they did to make Bobby feel like he has to.

But all that can wait. For now, his only priority is getting Bobby settled in bed with all the lights off and an icepack on his head. “Okay, Bobby, I’m gonna get you inside so you can rest, okay? But can I try something first?”

Bobby stiffens. “Try what?”

Reggie’s heart’s beating a little too fast, though he’s not sure why. He swallows, tries to ignore the fact that he’s definitely blushing, and says, “Can I hold your hand?”

Bobby’s silent and still for so long that Reggie starts to worry he’s overstepped. But before he can figure out how to backtrack, Bobby grumbles something unintelligible into his lap and flops a hand in Reggie’s face. Reggie grabs it, hoping his own hands aren’t too sweaty, and expertly applies pressure to the point between the base of Bobby’s thumb and index finger.

The effect is almost instantaneous: Bobby shudders, and his muscles relax like a ripple going through him, and he slowly sits up and raises his head. Reggie can’t really read his expression with the sunglasses still on, but what he can see of Bobby’s face looks less pinched, less pained, and he’s gotten some of the color back in his cheeks.

He stares at Reggie, mouth hanging open, and breathes, “Whoa.”

Reggie blushes, self-conscious, but doesn’t stop gently massaging Bobby’s hand. “Better?”

Bobby nods. “How—how did you know how to do that?”

Reggie manages a sheepish smile. “My mom gets migraines. And, well, hangovers. So I’ve kinda picked up some tricks. Coffee really helps her, too, if you can stomach it.”

Bobby’s still staring at him, and Reggie swallows, his stomach giving a weird little flip that’s not exactly unpleasant. Finally, Bobby looks away and gingerly pulls his hand out of Reggie’s to rub at his temples. “Well, thanks, Reg, that really helped. I’m gonna go inside before it gets worse again. Can you, uh—”

“Yeah, yeah, no, I’ll—tell the guys… something.”

Bobby gives him a shy, grateful smile, and then slowly pushes himself to his feet.

When the front door closes behind Bobby, Reggie lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He feels jittery and out of breath, like he just drank seven sodas or ran a marathon or something. His hands are tingly where they’d touched Bobby’s, and he can’t get the image of that last little smile out of his head.

Bobby doesn’t smile very often, and when he does, it’s not like that.

(And if it is, it’s not at Reggie.)

Reggie mutters a curse and copies Bobby’s earlier position, his face hidden in his hands. Because he thinks he might like Bobby.

But Bobby is Luke’s.

sorry bestie

Send me a pairing and a prompt to celebrate my 500th follower!

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @nickalicious @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @spidergirl0325 @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @cest-la-vie-de-la-lee @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @moreflowersthanweeds @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #fanfiction #my fics #prompt fills #500 followers aaah!!!#queen-molina #majoringinstress #boggie #bobby wilson #reggie peters #alex mercer #luke patterson

76 notes · View notes

secret-rendezvous1d · 4 years ago

Note

omggggg imagine the reader comforting spencer during a migraine (season 6) and he’s so clingy and his hair is sooo fluffy and he just wants to cuddle all day omg i would literally die bc he’d be so cute and soft🥺🥺

ooh, i honestly felt so sad when he wanted answers from his doctor. season six spencer had my heart racing and i don’t know why... haha.

like, reblog and send in some feedback, please. it’s greatly appreciated and it helps me work out what you want to see and what you are after. if you want something specific then do let me know! i’d love to try and write something for you.

thank you for the request, lovely. enjoy.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” spencer reid x female reader (reader insert blurb) word count; 1.4k.

* if you haven’t watched criminal minds then this does contain some spoilers to the show that you may want to dodge if you are thinking of starting the series up. *

summary; spencer’s migraines have been getting worse and he just wants all the love he can get.

It wasn’t like Spencer to wake up late.

For someone who liked an orderly fashion and had a strict routine to follow from morning till night and liked to be out of bed by six and out of the house by seven, just so he could get to work half an hour before he needed to show up, being late really wasn’t something YN thought he was capable of. Ever since she started with the Behavioural Analysis Unit, four years ago, YN had never known him to be late for anything; he was always the first one in the briefing room before a meeting and he was never the last one to enter, he was always the first one to board the jet before anyone else and he was always the first person to exit so he could get on with the orders Hotch had given him and he was always the first one at work in the morning (which he was proud to announce to anyone who came in after him) with a happy smile on his face, a brain ready to spew facts and a pile of case files tucked under his arm and ready to dish out to those on arrival.

So when her alarm went off and tore her from her deep sleep, signifying that seven in the morning on a dreary Monday had struck and it was time for her to wake up and get ready for work, she didn’t expect to see her boyfriend still snoozing beside her. The duvet pulled up to his chin like he was cold and found warmth in anything he could get his hands on, his forehead crinkled and his eyes squeezed shut like he was in a deep sleep and dreaming something, his mouth gaped open as gentle breaths left between his lips and filled the room with the softest of snores. YN wasn’t surprised he was sleeping in; he arrived home from a case rather late, the previous night, and he was almost knocked out as soon as his head hit the pillow. And, as much as YN wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, she knew it would knock him off his routine and have him muddled and off his game for the day.

“Spence, wakey wakey,” YN cooed, dragging a finger across his forehead to clear the mess of curls that covered his skin. She could feel a thin and sticky sheen cover his skin and, upon closer inspection, she noticed the tiniest of sweat beads forming by his temples. A bad dream, she assumed, although something in the back of her head didn't sit well with her. “Spencer, wake up. It’s seven. We need to get ready and leave for work.”

“I know. I know what time you set your alarm for in the mornings,” he grumbled, bringing an arm from beneath the duvet to pinch at the bridge of his nose, a sigh leaving his parted lips. He hadn’t been asleep, she felt silly for guessing he was, and he sounded as wide awake as he had been when he arrived home the night before. “I’ll get up in a minute. I just need a bit longer. Tired from yesterday.”

YN frowned in confusion - he had never once denied getting up so why had he now? - his eyes barely opening as he spoke to her, his body staying flat upon the mattress as she clambered out from under the covers and had a moment where she stretched and cracked her bones. Her arms went above her head, legs bracing her movements, stretching her back out to remove the kinks in her spine before moving to the en-suite bathroom and closing the door behind her so she could start getting ready for the day.

She looked at herself in the mirror, hands holding the sides of the sink, as she took in her appearance and had a thought about how she wanted to style her hair and how minimal she wanted her make-up to be for the day. Left behind on the sink, next to her left hand, was a half-opened pack of headache tablets and a glass, almost filled to the brim with water, next to their toothbrush holder. Everything else was left in its place and she was left standing in confusion, using the mirror to look around the bathroom behind her, eyebrow raising on her brow-line. She was sure nothing else had been moved, touched or put out of place until it finally dawned on her.

“Spence?”

She opened the door back up, peeking her face into the bedroom and seeing his face covered by her pillow, with the duvet pulled up as far as it could go so his feet weren’t showing at the end of the bed. She wanted to laugh because he looked ridiculous, cute but ridiculous, but she had a hunch that she knew what was wrong with him - over the last few days, headaches and migraines had been the biggest problem he had to face during his days and they’d been taking a toll on his ability to complete a case fully. Sensitive to light, sensitive to sound and his focus split between his surroundings and the pain behind his eyes that didn’t seem to go away, regardless of how dark his sunglasses had been tinted.

“Spencer, are they back bothering you again?”

“It’s just a headache this morning, I know it is,” he grumbled, his words coming out muffled and almost inaudible from beneath the memory foam pillow keeping the light from hitting his orbs, “jump in the shower and I’ll be up in a minute to get dressed then we go together.”

“Spence-”

“YN, I’m fine,” he grasped the pillow into his fist and pulled it from his face, a disgruntled look pinching his features for a brief second before he sent her a warming smile, as if he was trying to persuade her fears that he was perfectly fine and he didn’t need looking out for because it simply was just a headache. Which didn’t really seem to please her and definitely didn’t stop her bare feet from walking across the bedroom to sit back down on the bed. A convering look on her face which only enticed a groan of annoyance from his throat. His eyes refusing to watch as she laid back beside him and laid her head against his shoulder, cheek pressed to the duvet cover. “Don’t baby me, please, I’m fine. I promise.”

She tutted and shook her head.

“You don’t feel well today and I know you when you don’t feel well, mister. You just want non-stop cuddles and,” she perched herself up on her elbow and looked at him, bringing a hand up to rest against his cheek and to allow her fingers to rake through his knotted hair and straighten out the curly wisps the tips of his hair had flicked into, “I know you still want to go to work so we’ll just have to have an extra long one now. You know what Hotch is like with romance in the workplace.”

He smiled warmly, letting his head tilt to her touch, eyes closing in contentment. He couldn’t resist her love, no matter how ill or frustrated or angry he was with her. He felt comfortable with her, comfortable showing a vulnerable side, comfortable being so delicate and fragile, and she was all he needed on a dark and gloomy day when he was feeling a little low about himself. Just a glimpse of her face, a smile on her lips, a quick and cheeky wink sent his way when no-one was looking or the blush on her cheeks when she was caught looking at him was enough for him to feel better and feel a glow of warmth inside his heart.

“Who needs headache meds when I’ve got you? I wish we could stay like this forever.” He hummed, his lips grazing her forehead, “will you sneak some cuddles in at work? Might really help me out today.”

“I can sweet talk Hotch to make sure we get to work together,” she looked at him and pressed a kiss to his forehead, letting his lips drag down to his right temple so she could press a gentle kiss to where she assumed the origin of his headache had begun, “just promise me that you’ll help me out and not keep coming for kisses or cuddles.”

“I can’t promise anything.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x reader insert imagines #spencer reid x yn imagines #spencer reid fics #spencer reid x reader insert fic #spencer reid x yn fics #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagines #matthew gray gubler x reader insert imagines #matthew gray gubler x yn imagines #matthew gray gubler x yn fics #criminal minds fics #criminal minds imagines

142 notes · View notes