#anyway it was fun! probably could have cut it down to a clean two hours and it would’ve been tighter. kinda dragged by the end

[reiding-writing]

hi!! can you write more of the banter between enemy!reader and spencer but like now he goes beyond limits and like tells her the team would be better without her in their lives or something drastic and then she either goes missing or badly injured by the unsub??

404. /spencer reid/

if spencer is going to continue shutting down all of your ideas for leads in front of the team, then you’re going to track the unsub down yourself. you don’t need his approval anyway.

s1!spencer x enemy!reader 5.8k angst. series masterlist. main masterlist.

CW | typical criminal minds violence, spencer is a real twat, details of kidnapping and grievous bodily harm, catatonic trauma response. imagine this like halfway through season one.

The moment you step into the precinct, you feel it in your chest—a tightness, a heaviness. It’s not just the fatigue of being called in at 3 a.m. or the smell of stale coffee and desperation thick in the air. It’s the kind of tension that says we’ve been chasing ghosts and getting nowhere.

You glance across the briefing room. The local PD is gathered awkwardly along one wall, arms crossed, faces pinched with defensiveness. They’re not happy to have the FBI here. You don’t blame them—getting sidelined in your own case is a bitter pill to swallow. But this unsub isn’t playing fair.

“This is the third victim in two weeks,” the lead detective mutters, flipping through crime scene photos projected onto the wall. “Each time, the unsub leaves a note. Always handwritten. Always addressed to us. Sometimes directly to me.”

Morgan leans forward, eyes narrowing. “He’s taunting you,”

The detective scoffs. “He’s gloating. This one said, ‘You didn’t catch me last time. What makes you think you’ll get it right now?’”

“Classic narcissistic behavior,” Elle murmurs. “But there’s more to it,”

Hotch’s voice is calm but pointed. “He’s not just showing off. He’s testing you. He wants to see if he can outsmart us next.”

You shift in your seat, arms crossed, gaze flicking from photo to photo. The unsub’s pattern is clean, almost surgical. No evidence left behind, no usable prints, no DNA. Victims all abducted within ten miles of each other, murdered within 48 hours, left posed—like the unsub wanted the scene to say something.

Spencer sits to your right, scribbling notes in that tiny chicken scratch of his. You pretend not to notice the way he looks over at you when you suggest a geographic clustering theory.

“I think we should be focusing on the clusters—if the unsub’s circling familiar territory, it could give us a window into their comfort zone. Maybe even a home base,”

Spencer doesn’t even look up. “Or they’re using the local geography as a red herring. Throwing us off on purpose. Which is more likely with his intelligence level,”

You grit your teeth. “Or maybe you just don’t like when someone else has a theory first.”

There’s a flicker of tension across the table. JJ coughs awkwardly. Spencer finally glances over, his eyes sharp behind his curls.

“Just trying to eliminate bias,” he says flatly. “You might want to try that sometime.”

It starts small. A glance. A jab. You throw it back, and the fire spreads.

—

You and Spencer used to be good at this—banter, playful jabs, mutual intellectual sparring. It was light. It was fun. 9 months of almost playful hatred. And somewhere along the way, it stopped being any of those things.

You know why, you both do. But you’re still too stubborn to actually address it. So now, every briefing is a minefield.

“He’s organised,” you say, tapping a finger on the evidence board. “He’s probably keeping souvenirs. There’s no way he’s not revisiting these crime scenes in some capacity,”

Spencer rolls his eyes. “That’s a reach. He’s already getting his fix from the letters. Revisiting is more common in disorganised killers with obsessive traits. But, by all means, let’s base our strategy on assumptions,”

You round on him, the heat rising in your chest. “You always do this—cut people down because they didn’t quote a research paper in their suggestion. Not everything is from a journal article, Reid. Some of us work off instinct

He doesn’t blink. “That’s a shame.”

The room stills. You can feel everyone watching you now—JJ's uncomfortable glance, Morgan’s frown, Hotch’s silent disapproval. Elle shifts like she wants to step in, but thinks better of it.

You clench your jaw. “Just because your IQ is the highest in the room doesn’t mean your word is law,”

“And just because you talk louder doesn’t make you right,”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Gideon’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “We are not here to flex egos. We’re here to stop a killer.”

You force yourself to look away, biting down on every retort itching to escape. Spencer doesn’t say another word either, but you can see it in the way he tightens his grip on the pen—he’s not finished. Not even close.

—

By midday, the briefing is over and you’re elbow-deep in case files, staring at photos of victims and crime scene reports that blur together. You’re trying to hold onto the idea that this is about the work, not about him, but Spencer’s voice grates in your head like static.

“Victim number two was killed in a different manner,” you point out, “which might indicate a loss of control or a change in the unsub’s emotional state,”

Spencer scoffs from across the room. “Or it might indicate that your profiling is, yet again, based on faulty interpretation,”

You look up slowly. “You’ve got a real talent for being insufferable,”

He shrugs. “Just pointing out the facts,”

“You’re not pointing out anything. You’re just undermining me. Again.”

He walks closer now, arms crossed, eyes full of cold disdain. “Maybe if you weren’t so obsessed with being right, you’d actually be useful,”

Your jaw clenches so tight it hurts. “And maybe if you got over the sound of your own voice, we wouldn’t waste half our cases cleaning up your messes,”

Spencer steps in even closer, and now it’s personal. “You’re reckless. Impulsive. You go off instinct like it’s a badge of honour when really, it just makes you sloppy,”

You fire back without thinking. “You’re emotionally stunted and completely incapable of functioning outside a textbook,”

The words hang in the air like a punch.

Silence spreads. The local cops glance over from their desks. One of them murmurs, “Damn,”

Then Gideon slams his hand on the table.

“Enough,”

His voice is sharp, final. “Both of you. I don’t care how long this has been brewing—this is not the place. You’re acting like children, and you’re making this entire team look like amateurs,”

You glance down, throat burning. Spencer doesn’t say anything. He’s stone-faced, but you can tell from the twitch in his jaw that he’s stewing.

Gideon’s not finished. “I don’t want to hear another word out of either of you unless it pertains directly to the case. Are we clear?”

You nod. Spencer doesn’t move.

“Are we clear?” Gideon repeats.

“Yes, sir,” Spencer mutters.

You don’t trust yourself to speak.

As you start gathering your files, Spencer’s voice cuts through the tension one more time—this time quieter, but not quiet enough.

“You know, we probably would’ve caught him already if you weren’t dragging us down.”

The words hit like a slap. You freeze.

The room goes dead silent.

Spencer looks away like he didn’t just say it. Like it didn’t just split something open.

You don’t respond. Not with words.

You finish collecting your files, slam the folder shut, and walk out of the room without a glance back.

—

You don’t say a word as you walk out of the precinct. You don’t slam the door or stomp your feet—there’s no drama, no outward explosion. Just a quiet, ice-cold silence that coats you like armour.

Let them think whatever they want. Let him think he won.

You move with purpose, jaw tight, eyes fixed ahead. You’re done trying to reason with people who have no interest in listening—especially a certain genius with a superiority complex. You tried to play by the rules, work within the team, but apparently the team doesn't think you have anything worthwhile to offer.

Fine. You’ll do it on your own.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket—JJ, probably, or Hotch, maybe even Gideon trying to pull you back into line. You ignore it. Instead, you pull out your notes, flipping through the photographs you took earlier, the ones the team waved off as nothing—redundant, too similar to previous kills, “unremarkable,” Spencer had called them.

But they weren’t. Not to you.

The unsub had made a mistake. A small one, but a mistake nonetheless.

In victim three’s crime scene photo, the position of the body had been ever so slightly rotated compared to the first two—enough that most wouldn’t care, wouldn’t notice. But the shadows were wrong. There was too much light coming in through a window that didn’t face the same direction as the other houses in the neighborhood. And the blood pattern—it had streaked upward at an angle.

Someone had moved the body. After the kill.

You’d mentioned it in passing. Spencer had dismissed it as “grasping at straws.”

Well, straws were all you needed.

—

You hole up in a dingy motel room a few blocks from the latest crime scene, spreading every case file and crime scene photo across the bed like a map to something only you could see. Your eyes flicker between documents, stringing together tiny inconsistencies—the make and model of the air conditioner in victim four’s apartment, the mismatched doorknob in victim one’s home, the off-center towel rack in number five’s bathroom.

The unsub didn’t just kill these people. He replaced things. Adjusted details.

Controlled them, even after death.

You flip back through the files, heart hammering now, and scan the addresses again. You map them out on the motel’s bedside notepad, drawing circles, checking distances between the apartments and the kill sights. Mixing and matching scenes chronologically or otherwise. And then you stumble on it.

A perfect crescent, not random but intentional. All ten locations arced around a center point—a forgotten stretch of suburbia with an abandoned cul-de-sac, a place zoned for housing development ten years ago that never got off the ground.

It’s the only place the unsub hasn’t struck yet.

It’s also the only place that could tie them all together.

You glance at your phone again. The screen is blank. No new calls. No new messages. Not from the team. Not from Spencer.

And maybe that’s a good thing. You don’t need him to validate you. You don’t need anyone.

You grab your gear, shove your files into your bag, and drive.

—

The cul-de-sac is quiet.

Not in the way quiet neighborhoods usually are, but dead quiet. No birdsong. No dogs barking. Just a biting, eerie stillness that settles in your bones the moment you step out of the car.

The houses are in varying states of decay—some half-built and gutted, others with boarded windows and cracked sidewalks. You grip your flashlight tighter as you move through the overgrown path between two units.

You keep your gun low, your ears straining for sound.

The data you gathered had pointed you to the house on the far end—the only one with signs of recent activity. The windows had been cleaned. The door, repainted.

You creep up the porch, careful not to make a sound. Your breath clouds in front of you, and the air feels colder here somehow. Heavier.

You reach for the doorknob. It turns easily.

Unlocked.

That should’ve been your first red flag.

The interior is dark, but not untouched. A table in the front room is neatly set for two. Plates. Silverware. A bottle of wine. It looks more like a dinner party than a murder scene.

You sweep the room, clearing corners, keeping your steps light. Nothing jumps out at you, but your gut won’t stop twisting.

Then you notice it.

On the wall.

A photo.

Your heart stops.

It’s you.

Snapped from the side, no more than a few hours old. Shot through the window of your hotel room, small map of the city in hand. The image is taped to the wall with surgical precision. Below it, a tiny note, one you have to walk right up to to read.

Congratulations.

You barely have time to react.

There’s a sharp sting in your neck.

You reach up instinctively, but your fingers are already clumsy. You turn, try to raise your gun—but the world tilts violently.

A face emerges from the shadows. Smiling. Calm.

“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” he says, almost apologetically.

And then everything goes black.

—

You drift in and out of consciousness. Time becomes slippery—your mind fogged, your limbs numb. Every now and then you feel something cold against your skin, a tug at your wrists, the uncomfortable pinch of something sharp near your ankle.

When you finally come to fully, you’re tied to a chair.

Hands bound behind your back. Ankles strapped to the legs of the chair with zip ties. Your head throbs, and there’s a metallic taste in your mouth—blood, probably.

The room around you is dimly lit. It’s not the main house anymore. You’ve been moved.

It looks like a basement. Concrete floors, unfinished walls, a single exposed bulb hanging overhead.

There’s a table nearby, neatly arranged with tools—not weapons. Instruments. Brushes. Tweezers. Surgical gloves.

You inhale shakily. You’ve seen what hems done with them before.

“You’re awake,” a voice says behind you.

You flinch as he steps into view.

The man is unremarkable in every way. Tall-ish, average build. Brown hair, clean-shaven. The kind of face you’d pass on the street and forget within minutes.

“You came here thinking you’d be the hero,” he muses, walking around you like he’s inspecting art. “They all do. You think your badge makes you invincible.”

You don’t say anything. You’re still trying to conserve what little energy you have, mentally calculating your options.

He crouches in front of you, smiling. “You found me. That makes you smart. Smarter than the rest of them, maybe.”

You meet his gaze, steel in your voice despite the pain. “They’ll come looking for me.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he replies. “I’ll lead them right to you if I have to. Whether you’ll be salvageable though, is up for debate,”

He walks to the table, picking up a small silver scalpel, running a gloved finger down its edge.

“A portrait is a powerful thing. It’s like capturing a snapshot of a person’s soul. Of course no true portrait is taken without the proper preparations being put in place first.”

You don’t flinch. You don’t show fear.

You just stall.

“They’re going to kill you,” you say evenly. “The second they find out what you’ve done, you’re done.”

He tilts his head, amused. “Then I guess we better speed things along,”

—

The sun had long since set when the rest of the team finally packed up for the night. The precinct lights buzzed with the kind of fatigue only unsolved murders could generate. Tension still clung to every surface, like dust no one could wipe away.

You’d been gone for hours.

And no one noticed.

Gideon assumed you’d taken some space after the confrontation—he’d scolded you both sharply enough in front of the local cops to warrant that kind of retreat. Morgan figured you’d gone to cool off, maybe back to the motel, maybe to follow up on a lead solo out of spite. JJ worried but didn’t say anything, not wanting to stir the already tense dynamic. Elle even offered to call, but Hotch had waved it off.

“She’s probably just blowing off steam,” he said. “We’ll regroup in the morning.”

And Spencer?

Spencer hadn’t said a word. Not one. He’d returned to his paperwork, methodically scribbling notes, analysing patterns, and doing everything in his power to ignore the hollowness you’d left behind.

He told himself you were being petty. Immature. Childish, even. Storming off like a petulant child after a simple observation.

But by morning, the quiet had stretched too long.

The motel clerk confirmed you never came back last night. Your room key remained untouched. Your bed, still made. Your rental car, gone.

JJ’s face turned white. “She always checks in. Always.”

Morgan’s voice was sharper than usual. “She would’ve called if she was going somewhere. Even if she was pissed.”

Elle was already reaching for her phone, scanning through emergency numbers and local hospitals. “We need to start looking now.”

Hotch gave a tight nod, reaching for his radio. “She wouldn’t go dark this long, not in the middle of a case. Not without telling someone.”

Then Gideon walked in with a manila envelope in his hand, face grim. “We just received another message.”

Everyone stilled.

He handed it to Hotch, who opened it slowly, bracing himself. Inside was a note—typed, this time—and a single, polaroid photograph.

JJ read it aloud, voice catching:

“At least one of the FBI Agents you corralled to help was intelligent enough to track me down. Too bad they weren’t prepared for the aftermath.”

Hotch turned the photo toward the group.

You.

Bound, unconscious, head lolled to one side in what looked like a concrete room. Your face was bruised. Blood smeared your temple. Your hands were zip-tied behind you, your body slumped forward like a discarded puppet. The lighting was dim, shadows slashing across your figure like jagged teeth.

A basement. A storage room. Somewhere hidden, somewhere wrong.

JJ gasped.

Morgan swore under his breath.

Elle closed her eyes and muttered, “No…”

And Spencer—Spencer leaned forward slowly, brows knitting as he examined the image.

“We need Garcia to enhance it,” he murmured, already reaching for his phone. “Maybe we can track down the camera. Or a reflection. Or—”

“Well,” he added suddenly, voice clipped, “She obviously wasn’t that intelligent if she got caught,”

The words dropped like a stone in still water.

The entire room turned toward him.

“What did you just say?” Morgan snapped.

JJ’s mouth dropped open. “Spence—”

But it was Gideon who moved first, stepping forward, voice low and dangerous.

“Say that again,” he said, “and I will bench you for the rest of this case.”

Spencer blinked. “I didn’t—”

“No.” Gideon cut him off. “I don’t want excuses. I want action. You think you’re the smartest person in the room? Good. Prove it. Use your genius to get over yourself and find her.”

The silence that followed was heavier than anything anyone had felt since the case began.

Spencer stared down at the photo, jaw clenched.

And then, finally, he swallowed his pride and got to work.

—

He isolated the enhanced image on the screen of his tablet, pushing aside his guilt and anger like clutter on a desk.

Don’t think about what you said.

Don’t think about the way you looked when you walked out.

Don’t think about the fact that you might not be okay.

Focus. Analyse. That’s what he’s good at.

“Lighting first,” he said aloud, mostly to himself.

He zoomed in on the image, filtering the background. The bulb overhead was exposed, casting distinct shadows.

“That angle suggests a single overhead source,” he muttered. “No side lighting. Probably a basement. At least eight to ten feet deep underground.”

He paused, adjusting the contrast on the image. “There’s no natural light at all, which rules out windows. Walls are unfinished. Cinderblock. Mortar lines are tight… That’s not a pre-’80s build. It’s too clean,”

Morgan leaned in. “So what—newer construction?”

Spencer nodded. “Late 90s or early 2000s. This wasn’t improvised. It was planned. It’s structurally sound, like a finished or semi-finished basement that’s just… been stripped down,”

Elle pointed to the corner of the image. “What’s that? Right behind the chair,”

Spencer zoomed in again. “It looks like… rust. A drainage pipe, maybe. Industrial-grade. Not common in most basements unless there’s risk of flooding. That, combined with the cinderblock, suggests this could’ve been built in an area prone to high groundwater. Maybe even flood plains,”

JJ frowned. “We’re not near the coast,”

“No, but if you look at the housing map…” He switched to a digital layout of the neighbourhood. “This cul-de-sac was supposed to be part of a larger development. Half of it was never completed because the land didn’t pass inspection,”

Hotch narrowed his eyes. “He’s in one of those unfinished units,”

Gideon nodded once. “Then we start there. We canvass the entire development. We don’t stop until we find her.”

Spencer looked at the photo one last time. His throat was dry. His chest ached. He thought of what he’d said—we would’ve caught him if you weren’t dragging us down—and suddenly it sounded less like a petty jab and more like a curse.

He looked up at the team.

“I’m coming with you.”

Hotch nodded. “Good. You’re going to lead the search.”

—

The SUV was quiet on the way to the development site. No one played music. No one made jokes.

Spencer sat in the front seat, his fingers tapping a rapid rhythm against his knee. He was trying not to picture you in that chair. Trying not to imagine what the unsub had done in the hours since that photo was taken. But he couldn’t stop the images.

You, bloody and bound.

You, unconscious and alone.

You, thinking no one was coming.

He had no right to worry.

No right to be scared.

But he was.

The words echoed in his head.

“She obviously wasn’t that intelligent.”

He wanted to take it back. Shove it into his mouth and swallow it down until it never existed. But that’s not how words work. They cut, and they cling, and they stay.

When they arrived at the development, the team split up fast. Morgan and Elle took the north end. JJ stayed with local officers to coordinate grid sweeps. Hotch and Gideon led the way into the southern row—newer units, all empty.

Spencer broke off on his own.

He had a gut feeling. It didn’t feel smart. It didn’t feel strategic. But it felt right.

And for once, he let himself trust that instinct.

The fifth house in the row was quiet.

Too quiet.

The front door was slightly ajar. No visible signs of forced entry. No sound from inside.

The front door creaked open under Spencer’s hand. The house was stale with disuse—thick air and thin silence. He moved cautiously through the entryway, gun raised, heart a thunderous rhythm in his ears.

Every shadow stretched too long. Every corner felt wrong.

Footsteps pounded behind him seconds later—Morgan, Hotch, and Gideon falling in silently. Elle and JJ soon followed through the back, their weapons drawn, movements swift and precise.

Then—

A noise.

A soft creak.

Second floor.

Hotch motioned with two fingers, and the team surged upward.

They found him in one of the back bedrooms. The unsub.

He was standing in front of a half-boarded window, arms crossed, calm like he was waiting for them. No fear. Just smug, eerie satisfaction, the kind that made your skin crawl.

“You’re too late,” he said simply.

Morgan didn’t hesitate. “On the ground! Now!”

But the unsub didn’t comply. He moved fast—reaching for something under his coat.

Hotch fired first. A warning shot into the drywall, forcing the man to freeze mid-movement. Morgan lunged in, tackling him with a grunt. They struggled, fists swinging, feet skidding across the half-carpeted floor.

Spencer stood back, watching the scuffle like it was underwater. His fingers twitched against his sidearm, but he didn’t fire. Couldn’t. His eyes were already scanning—behind the man, past the empty bedframe, to the blood on the floor.

He wasn’t thinking about justice. He was thinking about you.

By the time Gideon and Morgan got the cuffs on the man, Spencer was already moving—down the stairs, through the hallway, toward the door at the far end of the house.

There was a lock on it. Heavy. Old.

Spencer kicked it once. Nothing.

Twice.

On the third kick, the door gave way.

The basement smelled like mold, metal, and something sharper—sweat, maybe. Or blood.

The light flickered overhead as he stepped inside.

And there you were.

Slumped in the same position as the photo, tied to a chair, your wrists bound so tightly they’d gone purple. There was blood at your temple. Bruises down your neck. A split lip. Dirt smeared your cheeks. Rips in your shirt.

But you were breathing.

Barely.

Alive.

He nearly collapsed with the force of the relief.

“Hey,” he said softly, kneeling in front of you. His voice cracked. “Hey. You need to be conscious right now,”

Your eyes fluttered, but didn’t open.

You didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Spencer's voice dropped lower, to fend with a failed attempt at lightheartedness. “You’re at a higher risk of permanent brain injury if you’re unconscious, and I doubt you need that on top of all of your other issues—”

His hands trembled as he reached for the zip ties, too afraid to touch you at first.

Morgan burst in behind him. “We need medics! Now!” he shouted up the stairs.

JJ’s voice echoed from above. “They’re already pulling up!”

Spencer carefully cut the ties, his fingers brushing your wrist. Your skin was cold. Too cold.

He looked at you again, eyes searching for any sign of recognition. A flicker of life. Of you.

Nothing.

When the medics finally came, they moved with military precision, lifting you from the chair, strapping you onto a stretcher. You didn’t resist. Didn’t flinch. You didn’t even blink.

“Low blood pressure. Likely concussion, threads pulse,” one of them said quickly, checking vitals.

They spoke in clipped medical shorthand as they wheeled you out. The words blurred in Spencer’s ears.

He didn’t follow.

Couldn’t.

He stood there, in that grimy basement, staring at the chair you’d been tied to. The blood smeared into the floor. The shredded zip ties left behind like bones.

He should’ve stopped you.

He should’ve known something was wrong last night.

He should’ve said something—anything—besides the venom he’d spat.

His hands curled into fists.

Upstairs, he could hear Morgan shouting at the unsub as he was dragged away.

“You think you’re clever? Huh? You think this makes you some kind of genius?”

The unsub just smiled. “She came to me.”

Spencer’s stomach turned.

—

Outside, the late morning sun was rising, casting long shadows over the front lawn as paramedics loaded you into the ambulance. JJ stood nearby, arms folded tightly, barely breathing.

Elle was silent, her eyes rimmed red.

Hotch was speaking with local police, organising statements and chain of custody. And Spencer stood off to the side, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, face unreadable.

He didn’t go to the ambulance.

Didn’t try to see you again.

He didn’t think he deserved to.

You were silent. Still unresponsive. Not out of stubbornness, not anger, but trauma. Something had shut off in you, and Spencer didn’t know how—or if—you’d be able to come back from that.

He hadn’t just pushed you away.

He’d left you alone long enough to almost die.

—

The hospital was a cold place. The sterile white walls seemed to hold no comfort, and the bright fluorescent lights buzzed incessantly, as if trying to shatter the fragile quiet of the room.

But the team couldn’t shake the relief.

You were alive. Not unscathed—far from it—but alive. The doctors assured them you would recover physically, though they hadn’t made any promises about the mental scars.

But there was a sense of something else in the air, something they couldn’t quite name yet.

Gideon paced outside your room, eyes shadowed by a tiredness that went deeper than just the case. Morgan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his face taut with unsaid words.

Elle was in the hallway, sitting on a chair with her head in her hands, her phone still in her lap. She hadn’t spoken much since they left the house. JJ hovered near the nurses’ station, keeping herself busy with menial tasks, but her face was pale—gripped by some invisible weight.

And Hotch, though outwardly composed, carried the same heavy air of guilt.

But no one felt it as sharply as Spencer.

He was pacing in the hallway, arms stiff at his sides, a muscle in his jaw twitching with every breath. He hadn’t said a word to anyone since they’d arrived at the hospital, and though he’d checked in with the doctor, he hadn’t really listened.

Spencer’s mind was still replaying the look in your eyes when you were pulled from that basement—the emptiness, the unspoken words, the brokenness. And for the first time, he was painfully aware of the distance that had been wedged between you.

The anger, the insults, the barbed exchanges—it hadn’t been just his defence mechanism, and he hadn’t realised how much damage it had done until now.

But now you were silent, and Spencer could feel the full weight of what he’d done pressing down on him like a vice. You were the one who’d been hurt the most—physically—and still, it was his words that had broken you.

—

When he finally pushed open the door to your room, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

You were propped up in bed, the sterile white sheets bunched around your body. Your face was bruised—still swollen—but your eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. There was nothing there. No emotion. No spark. Just an emptiness that he didn’t know how to fill.

Spencer hesitated, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he crossed the room.

You didn’t move when he sat in the chair next to the bed. You didn’t acknowledge him at all. Your gaze remained fixed ahead, unfocused, distant.

For a moment, Spencer just watched you. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words didn’t come.

It was only when he spoke, his voice sharp and broken, that the silence shattered.

“What you did was reckless and idiotic,” he said, his tone colder than he intended. “You could’ve died. You left without backup, without even thinking about the risks.” He swallowed, forcing his words to keep coming. “You could’ve—you should’ve—asked for help.”

He paused, waiting for some kind of response. Something—anything—but there was nothing. You didn’t even blink. You just stared ahead, lost in the haze of your own mind.

Spencer’s fingers clenched into fists. “You think this is some kind of game? You think you’re invincible?”

Still nothing.

He leaned in slightly, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Goddamn it, I’m trying to help. But you need to stop acting like you’re the only one who matters here. This isn’t just about you.”

Nothing.

The silence stretched on, a taut wire between the two of you, the gap between him and you feeling like an abyss. Spencer couldn’t stand it. His gaze dropped to the floor, a wave of shame crashing over him.

He didn’t understand it. He didn’t know how to fix it.

For the first time in his life, Spencer Reid felt like he was completely and utterly lost.

—

The team began to gather in the waiting room outside your room, and no one spoke. Even the air felt thick, like the stillness before a storm.

It was Elle who finally broke the silence. “I can’t…” she trailed off, her voice catching in her throat. “She… she won’t even look at us.”

Hotch, though normally composed, looked exhausted. His hands were folded in his lap, his eyes shadowed by the weight of the situation. “She’s been through hell, Elle. We can’t just… expect everything to go back to normal.”

Gideon looked up from his place near the door. “No, it’s not that simple,” he said quietly, voice low but unwavering. “But I’ve seen this before. Trauma like this… it changes you.” He paused, eyes flicking toward the door to your room. “She’s going to need time, and we’re going to need patience. But we also need to acknowledge what we did wrong,”

The room grew quieter, each member processing the truth in their own way.

Morgan, who had been pacing with his hands in his pockets, spoke up. “Spencer’s not handling this well. But none of us are.” His voice was strained, but it held a sense of certainty. “We didn’t see it. We didn’t see how bad it was getting for her.”

JJ closed her eyes briefly, guilt flooding her expression. “We should’ve known. We should’ve stepped in. The way she and Spencer were fighting—it was too much. We should’ve told them both to stop before it got to this point,”

“I’m just…” Elle’s voice wavered. “I’m just so angry at him. How could he say those things to her? He was the one who pushed her.” Her eyes were wide, a mix of disbelief and hurt. “He acted like he didn’t even care, like she didn’t matter

Hotch sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “We all failed her in some way.” His eyes flicked to Gideon. “And now Spencer’s struggling to process the fact that it’s his words that have hurt her the most,”

Gideon nodded slowly. “There’s no way to fix it right away. But what matters now is how we move forward. For her. Not for us.”

[grey-writes-stuff]

Siblings

@divoha4

The last sounds of gurgling and growling died off as the duo killed the undead that surrounded them.

“Ugh. You never get used to the smell…” ”Uhm…Storm…?”

Storm looked over at Ferret, who looked suddenly pale and meek.

“Ferret? What is it?”

Ferret shakily showed their wrist. On their wrist, a clear as day bite, dripping with blood.

Storm didn’t hesitate. They took their clean knife out, and cut the wrist clean off, prompting a screech of pain from Ferret.

Storm apologised repeatedly as the wrapped the arm in a tourniquet and scraps of gauze.

“It hurts!” Ferret squeaked.

“I know. I’m sorry!” Storm repeated a few more times before taping up the gauze.

“Here.” Storm handed Ferret a small bottle of vodka, which the duo had grabbed from a downed plane. Ferret took it and chugged it instantly.

When Ferret discarded the bottle, they noticed Storm acting off. Their shoulder was in an upwards position, their neck slightly tilted to that side.

“Storm? Is something wrong…?” Ferret said in a shaky voice.

Storm hesitated. They let out a long breath before relaxing their shoulder, and moving their neck into an upright position. A deep bite was on their neck, like an undead had tried their best to rip the chunk out.

“S-Storm?”

“I don’t think anyone can cut this off…” Storm sighed, sitting on the ground.

“M-Maybe we could cut around it?” Ferret stammered, but Storm shook their head.

“Already in my blood stream, Fer. I’m done.”

“No! We told Moose we’d make it back safe!” Ferret protested, shaking Storms shoulders.

“And I told him I’d keep you safe.” Storm replied.

Ferret’s shoulders slumped, their eyes filled with Grief and despair. “W-What do we do…?”

“I’m going to get you as close to home as I can. I wanna see familiar places before, well…yeah.”

Ferret let out a whimper, which prompted Storm to tightly hug them.

“Hey. You’re gonna need a hand getting home anyway.”

“Not the puns…” Ferret whimpered.

“Could always say I’m armed.” Storm snickered.

The walk back was slow for them both, due to Storms bite, and Ferrets missing arm, which sometimes sent shocks of pain through them.

“How’s it feeling…?” Storm ask raspily. They had steadily grown weaker during the walk.

“Hurts sometimes.” Ferret admitted “Healing is probably going to be a bitch…”

They then took a breath. “What about you?”

Storm hesitated. “My necks gone a bit numb. Kinda like when a limb falls asleep? But I can feel it pulsing, like a heartbeat. I won’t lie, it’s an interesting experience.” ”That’s…one way to put it…” Ferret mumbled.

Suddenly, Storm stumbled, and Ferret immediately put out their good arm to catch them.

“If you need to take a break…”

“No. We keep going.” Storm insisted.

Ferret lowered their gaze and nodded.

They walked for another two hours, before eventually, Storm fell, and struggled to get back up. Ferret helped them up, and guided them to a tree, that had all of its leaves still despite the coming winter.

“Man, I did not think I was gonna go out like this…” Storm croaked as they were set down against the tree trunk.

“W-What do I do…?” Ferret asked with a small whimper.

Storm nodded to Ferrets gun.

“W-What?! I-I can’t!” Ferret fretted.

“You have to. I ain’t walking around with those things, causing issues. I prefer doing that when I’m alive.”

“You’re my sibling. I can’t…” Ferret’s voice cracked.

“You have to because you’re my sibling, Jo.” Storm replied quietly.

“What am I going to tell Moose? Bes even?” Ferret asked quietly.

“The truth. That my luck ran out, and you gave me the easy way out. Beats all the Lumi crap, I won’t lie.”

Ferret whimpered, and gave Storm a tight hug, hesitant to let go.

“I-I’m going to miss you…” Ferret whispered pitifully.

“Yeah, I’ll miss you too, Ferret.” Storm responded softly.

Ferret withdrew from the hug after a few minutes, and only now noticed just how exhausted Storm looked. They looked pale, dark marks under their eyes.

“Just…make it quick, yeah? Seen too many people miss during their killing blow. Not fun.”

Ferret took out their pistol and took a shaky breath.

Storm gave them a weak smile. “Tell them I wasn’t scared. Not one bit.”

“I will” Ferret whimpered. They aimed the gun and looked away.

A shot fired, and then silence.

“You sure Soap and Ghost would want to go to the warehouse? It’s full of rats, and Soap squealed like a little girl.”

“Moose, you and I both know they’re the quickest we have right now for the Warehouse run.”

Moose sighed, and looked around. “Those two kids should be back by now.. Where’d you send them anyway, Bes?”

Bes hummed for a moment. “Hardware store. We needed some supplies for the walls.”

Moose grunted and looked back at the map, before they heard a familiar screech of the gate opening.

“Must be them.” Bes smiled before turning around. His smile faltered.

Ferret stumbled to them, their head hanging low. In their remaining hand, was what looked to be a collar, part of it frayed and stained darker.

Moose turned, and his eyes widened. “Jo!”

He ran to Ferret, who was trembling like a leaf in the wind.

“Where’s Storm?!” Bes demanded.

Ferret could barely meet their gaze. When they finally lifted their head, there were tears in Ferret’s eyes. Shakily, they gave Bes the collar.

“They…” Ferret croaked.

Bes saw the blood, the frayed fabric on the collar, and his heart sunk.

Moose saw the collar, and his eyes widened.

All Bes could ask is “How…?”

Ferret let out a whimper, unable to answer.

Moose knelt down and tightly hugged Ferret, who let out one last whimper before sobbing into the older mans shoulder. “I’m sorry!” Ferret wailed.

Bes watched the two. He noticed Ferret’s stumped arm, and slowly began to piece it together.

“They saved you?”

Ferret meekly nodded. They forced themself to look up at Bes, and saw no anger. Only grief.

They were one member down, and that member, was family.

[hermannsthumb]

hello! the summer prompt list looks so fun <3 what about pool floats and lemonade.. maybe someone's been coaxed to lounge by the pool... IN the pool.. an unheard of idea. and with a (plastic) cup of lemonade too.. how risky!

26. Pool  + 19. Lemonade

from the summer prompts meme here

it's still sad and vaguely cold here but i am fantasizing about not being sad and cold, so i'm sending the boys to somewhere random and warm and doing some summer fills i didn't get around to last year!

-----------------------------------------------------

When Newt makes his way into his and Hermann’s shared hotel room, he's disappointed—but, tragically, not surprised, like, at all—to find Hermann shrouded in darkness and hunched over his laptop, tapping away wildly into what looks like his PPDC email. Shades and blackout curtains drawn in front of the two big windows, all lights but some tiny desk lamp switched off, Hermann himself bundled up in a sweater and his thick wool slacks like it's not ninety-fucking-degrees outside, all that shit. He's got the air conditioning blasting at least, but it's still enough to make Newt (flourishing happily in a pair of cut-off shorts and a tank top) wince. He sighs instead of greeting Hermann. "Dude," he says. "This is really pathetic."

He flips the overhead light on, half expecting Hermann to turn away and hiss at him like a vampire or something. No hissing, but he does scowl at Newt in a way that's probably even scarier. And also kind of funnier. For all of Hermann's posturing and stuffiness, sometimes he really does just look like a mean, puffed-up cat. "Go away," Hermann says.

"Nah," Newt says.

He tosses a brown paper shopping bag on Hermann's bed.

"It's a bathing suit," he says, before Hermann can poke his way inside. It's a hideous bathing suit, actually, but Newt was limited to the options the gift shop in the lobby offered, so it was either something floral and speedo-adjacent that Hermann wouldn't be caught dead in, or standard(/boring), baggy blue trunks with the hotel logo stamped across the left leg. He's actually kind of regretting not going for the floral ones, if not just to see if he could somehow coax Hermann into them. Hermann's skin above the small pale sliver just exposed by his pants hemline remains a tantalizing mystery to Newt. "I had to kind of guess the size, but I think it should fit okay."

"Bathing suit?" Hermann echoes suspiciously.

"It's nice out," Newt says. "There's a pool, you need a break, so we're going swimming." Newt spotted the pool the second their taxi dropped them off and has been fantasizing about it ever since. It's what got him through every minute of the week-long conference, every bitchy look Hermann tossed his way, every dumb question posed to him in the Q&A sessions. Compensation. Vengeance. They have twenty-four hours of downtime before they have to pack things back up and head back to the Shatterdome (which does technically have a pool, but it's indoors, rarely cleaned, and technically off-limits for anyone who's not a ranger, unless you're like Newt, who sneaks in to go swimming anyway), and Newt's going to enjoy himself.

Hermann pulls the blue trunks out of the bag, examines them skeptically, and drops them to the floor with more disgust than strictly necessary. He uses the end of his cane to push them even further away. Newt bends down with an eyeroll. “Don’t be a dick, man, those cost like, fifty bucks.” Official hotel merch or whatever. Okay, they actually cost closer to thirty-five, but Newt wants to make Hermann feel as guilty as possible. He picks up the trunks and kindly returns them to his ungrateful lab partner. “Look,” he says, “either you hang out with me outside for like, an hour, tops, and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night, or I’m hanging out with you in here. It’s my room too, bro. Roomies.”

He's thinking movie night, pizza, chatting loudly with (at?) Hermann until he can get the guy to snap and probably attempt to smother Newt with a pillow. There’s a visible flash of dread behind Hermann’s eyes: it satisfies something deep within Newt’s soul. “You’re a despicable waste of space,” Hermann spits, but he slams his laptop shut, and angrily rips the bedspread off from around his body. The cuffs of his baggy wool slacks are rolled around his ankles and Newt catches a glimpse of sock garters. “Fine, you bastard. I’ll go for a swim with you if it makes you happy, and buys me a moment of peace tonight. You’re like—you’re like a bloody toddler sometimes, you know. You’re like—”

“Cool!” Newt says. Hermann gapes at him in wordless fury. “I’ll meet you in the hallway in ten.”

Hermann fidgets and tugs uncomfortably at the waistband of his little swim shorts the whole ride down in the elevator, and, lingering by the poolside, he does the drawstring back up twice while Newt kindly blows up a small, inflatable lounge chair he also bought for him at the gift shop for way too much money Hermann looks wrong like this somehow: out of his element of hunching over computer screens and breathing in chalk dust, swim trunks paired bizarrely with his little brown Oxfords (the only shoes he brought with them), glasses on a chain still bouncing against his chest. The pool is deserted except for them—their own private swim club. Probably because people are understandably kind of wary of bodies of water these days, even ones chlorinated and decently far from the Pacific. “It’s too hot,” Hermann gripes. He shields his eyes with his hand as he glares up at the sun. He smells almost nauseatingly like sunblock. He’s missing a sunhat, Newt thinks. One of those big, dumb, wide-brimmed ones that a movie starlet would wear in 1940-whatever. Or cat-eye sunglasses. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

“You were ruining your posture in there,” Newt says. He hoists the lounge chair over his head easily and tosses it into the pool, where it hits the surface of the water with a satisfying splat. Hermann wrinkles his nose as no more than two droplets of water have the audacity to land on one of his skinny, hairless calves. Newt pats the lounge chair. “In twenty years, you’ll be like, 'man, I’m so glad my best friend in the whole world Newt was there to rescue me from a life of slouching and back pain, I should send him a gift basket.'”

“‘What was the name of that annoying fellow who used to make my every waking moment miserable?’” Hermann says. “‘I’m so thankful that I haven’t seen him in twenty years and will never have to, ever, again.’”

“Get in the pool, you drama queen,” Newt says.

Hermann delicately undoes each button of his crisp white button-down with one hand, and slips it from his shoulders one arm at a time. It’s strangely mesmerizing and even more strangely alluring, like Newt’s in the front row of the world’s stuffiest strip club, though Hermann is still wearing a loose undershirt beneath it. His arms are pasty and tinted a ghostly white with more sunblock. He has nice shoulders, unfortunately. “If you wouldn’t mind,” he says, easing himself out of his shoes, and hands both his shirt and cane to Newt as Newt offers him an arm.

He doesn’t look any less uncomfortable on the floatie once Newt helps him down onto it. More uncomfortable, in fact: one leg straight out in front, the other crooked half-under the water at a weird angle, slouching in worse on himself than he had been in bed as the floatie bobs and drifts with the rippling surface of the water. He squints up at the sun, scowling, and then squints over at Newt, still scowling. His knuckles are clenched tightly around the edges of the float’s pink vinyl. “I feel so relaxed,” he says, bitchily.

“I’m getting you a drink,” Newt says. “Stay right there.”

The small outdoor bar is thankfully open and manned despite the lack of poolgoers other than Newt and Hermann. Newt gets an overpriced cocktail with several skewers of pineapple in it for himself, and a modest spiked lemonade for Hermann, which he makes sure to stick the largest bendy straw he can find in the hopes of making Hermann scoff and roll his eyes. Hermann is still swaying awkwardly on his little pink throne when Newt finally kicks off his sandals and clothing and (flinching very slightly at the sudden chill on his skin) wades in to join him. Hermann greets him with an expression of mild horror. “What on Earth is that?” he says.

“It’s some sort of piña colada, dude, I don’t know,” Newt says. "It's good though."

“Not that,” Hermann says. He looks down pointedly at Newt’s waist. “Where did you find that thing? It’s absolutely hideous.”

Newt couldn’t get the floral speedo-thing for Hermann, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t absolutely get it for himself, even if it maybe, like, fits very badly, and he’ll probably toss it out the second they get back to the Shatterdome. He loves it. He loves it even more now that he knows Hermann hates it, and models it for him happily. “I think it’s funny,” he says, and hands over the lemonade. (Hermann's eyes widen in momentary mild scandal at the prospect of drinking in a public pool—the bar is there for a reason, man!—and then takes it anyway.) “Here, seriously, drink this, relax. We’re not on the clock. You can like, not be miserable for once. Isn’t it nice to not be miserable?”

Hermann looks kinda miserable.

“When’s the last time you went swimming?” Newt tries again.

“In the summer of my twelfth birthday,” Hermann says, solemnly. “We went on holiday to the coast. That was before—” He gestures at his left hip, where his undershirt has bunched up and his trunks have ridden down just enough for Newt to catch a glimpse of puckered scar tissue. “—so I was actually a decently strong swimmer then.”

“See? That sounds—”

“But I nearly drowned, of course, when my brother pushed me off some rocks,” Hermann continues. “He’d meant it as a prank; I suspect he didn’t realize how strong the current was, or how deep the spot beneath the rocks was. It was a bit frightening, really. My sister had to go in after me. We never went on holiday again.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Okay.”

Hermann gives him a weird, half-smile. “I’m kidding.”

“Oh,” Newt says again, not entirely sure which part Hermann’s kidding about, and whether or not he should laugh. He gives an equally weird chuckle and takes a long sip of his drink to avoid thinking of something else to say as Hermann does the same with his own. Newt’s adjusted enough to the water temperature that it actually feels good now, especially with the hot sun beating down on them overhead. He shuts his eyes and curls his knees up until he’s no longer touching the bottom of the pool, letting his body go loose, relaxed. He feels Hermann reach out and snatch a skewer of fruit from his glass.

“Yours looks much better than mine,” Hermann says through a mouthful of pineapple. “Let’s swap.”

“Bathing suits?” Newt says.

He cracks an eye open enough to watch Hermann make a face at him, but he passes over his fruity drink anyway, accepting the spiked lemonade in its place. Hermann sticks his straw in Newt’s drink and drains it quickly. Between that and Newt’s extremely thoughtful(/expensive) trip to the gift shop for them both, he kind of feels like Hermann’s getting more out of this little adventure than him. Whatever, though, it’s fun seeing Hermann shed some layers. Of the metaphorical emotional sense. It’s fun seeing him shed some physical layers too, but those are strictly unprofessional thoughts for Newt to be entertaining about his stuffy co-worker. He’ll say this though—it’s great finding out Hermann’s limbs exist beyond the constraints of sweatervests and oversized pants. It's even better finding out he's kind of hot, in a bony, gangly sort of way.

Hermann polishes off the remaining few pieces of pineapple and sets the empty glass on the edge of the pool. He grazes one hand across the surface of the water, dipping his arm in up to the elbow, and smiles lazily at Newt. Newt feels a little funny, a little too warm—like maybe his few sips of booze have gone to his head already or he’s been out in the sun too long. Then Hermann flicks water at his face. “Dick,” Newt says, but he grins as (Hermann giving a half-hearted grunt of protest) he uses a dry part of Hermann’s undershirt to wipe off his glasses.

“I could go for another drink,” Hermann says. “If you wouldn't mind, that is, Newton."

"Ugh, fine."

[peepsibo]

hi !!! could you possibly write headcanons for robin arellano x babysitter reader ? (platonic) w the reader maybe being like 15-17 or something. still older but still in school so they know some people robin talks abt ?<3

my first 'x reader' request <3 i hope you enjoy i have no clue what i am doing LOL. this became a lot longer than i realized... also i plan on sunday night/ monday finally answering my inbox!

(platonic) robin arellano x babysitter! reader (gn), (platonic) casper crew x babysitter! reader ; headcanons; non-canon, fluff

cw: mentions of violence, cursing, implied child abuse, small angst portion at the end that follows canon sorry i couldn't resist </3

ok so first off, you probably started babysitting him when he was like in 4th grade so like 10 years old and you were 14 trying to make some extra money

and your neighbor mrs. arellano needed someone to be with her son for four hours after school cause lets say robin's uncle had new working hours

you would pick robin up from school that let out at 3, help him with homework, make him a snack, play with him until 6 pm when his uncle would return home

very easy job!

except in the beginning robin would NOT open up

anything you would do he would look at you indifferently and not react

at like all

not even when u made his food into fun shapes

you: i cut your sandwich into fun faces! :)

robin: *slowly blinks, takes the plate of the sandwiches with no expression and walks away*

so for the first two weeks you saw him as a little brat and you couldn't handle this kid

you were considering asking mrs. arellano if she could get another babysitter so you could quit or at least watch him less

that was until one day, the day you planned to talk to mrs. arellano about getting a new sitter when this kid

absolutely out of nowhere

would not stop clinging to you

you went to pick him up from school and he zoomed out the building and fucking JUMPED to hug you

you: ????

like he wanted to be carried home, and when you couldn't cause his back pack was heavy (wtf were teachers assigning to 4th graders these days???) he settled for holding your hand and talking about his day

and when you got him home he wanted to help prepare his snack

turns out he was analyzing you to see if you were a good person, a vibe check sort to speak

and you passed! congratulations!

also turns out for his art project in school he drew you :(

(you have that photo in your wallet and show everyone even when robin is like 18 you will go 'look what robin drew for me!' and he will threaten to hit u')

so now you are stuck with this kid for the rest of your life

when his 11th birthday rolls around you're the first person this kid invites

also at this party this is when you meet finney!

robin is SO stoked to have you meet his best friend he wouldn't stop talking about it leading up to his birthday

ok so timeskip to when robin is 13 and you are 17

while he doesn't need a babysitter now he will not let you go

you are like an older sibling to him he will be damned if you stop hanging out with him

think steve and dustin from stranger things

anyways

and since now robin has like gotten in many fights now and has a rough kid reputation and now u get the pleasure of making sure his wounds don't get infected! so happy 4 u

u scold him a lot the first couple times he get in a fight while taking care of him so he has finney clean him up before he sees you after school to avoid that

speaking of finney

he would be friends with the rest of the casper crew so now you have seemingly adopted them too

i think out of the rest of the casper crew, besides robin, you would be pretty close to vance and griffin

vance, because he also is a rough kid like robin but you quickly break down vance's walls surprisingly

he tries to act tough but when u call him kiddo/ help take care of his hair he gets real quiet and has a small smile on his face

honestly ur just good with rougher kids, like when u grow up u end up going to become a therapist to help those rougher kids and understand them

and griffin because he's small, u could pick him up like a ragdoll and throw him against the wall u have this need to protect him

but he's also the biggest instigator so now u have to really control him

griffin, to vance: me, personally, i would not let that slide

you: *sighing, having to hold both vance and griffin at the collars of their shirts like cats*

you about robin: they are lovely amazing kids they are my pride and joy :)

you about vance and griffin: these are my dogs, they have rabies

for finney, you also unknowingly adopt gwen alongside him

they are a two-in-one deal tbh

when nights get bad at their house cause of their father, they leave to stay the night at yours and you comfort them

so u especially take up a more parent role for those two

also remember i mentioned u cutting robin's food into fun shapes? you bring back your star cookie cutters for finney

he acts nonchalant but inside he's freaking out over the star shaped sandwiches

for billy/ paperboy, hes like the most normal of the bunch, the straightman if u will

when u have to leave the room for like two minutes u always have billy be in charge (he has those spray water bottles u use on cats when they misbehave)

now bruce... i feel like he unknowingly makes enemies with people so now u have to protect this kid from getting jumped and he has not a damn clue what's going on

u knock on his head and u hear an echo (/lh)

so atp robin def has a key to your house so now they can terrorize u whenever u want

you, walking into your home: hello people who don't live hear

robin: yo

vance: sup

bruce: hey!

billy: *waves without looking up from his book*

finney: robin brought us here

griffin: we were out of doritos so we came to steal from you!

they all take a year away from your life

to circle this back to robin, you two are obviously the closest

as stated above, he sees you as an older sibling and while u love all the others who entered your life, it will always be you and robin

you are the first person he tells when he gets a 'C' on his math test

he will always be able to mention you to someone in a conversation

you are one of his role models in life

at the end of the day, you two will always be bonded for life

extra: canon angst!-

when robin goes missing, you are a mess. it was one of the two days you typically don't see robin, and now you feel it was your fault he was taken. how could you be so careless? late at night, you wish it was you that was taken.

[gustingirl]

gvf headcanon | showering together

request: Can you do a headcanon about what it’s like to shower with each of the boys ( romantic/ non romantic ) either one is fine :) thank you

warnings: not smutty but there are mentions of sexual acts

josh.

i will start by saying my next fic is gonna have this scenario so i may not expand on the topic. but it’s simple anyways: this man prefers bathing and keeping you as close as he can. i feel josh is all about bathing each other, he would not be able to keep this from turning romantic. like his love language is physical touch; josh would do anything possible to always be touching you, sexually, romantically or just for the sake of touching you. so baths are all about doing it for the other, as a sort of conjunction of your two souls. BUT, BUT, if you’re doing his hair? god bless you because he will be annoying as fuck. josh would adore the moment until you make it to his hair and he has to fight the urge to tell you to do it right.

i’m gonna avoid repeating scenarios with that fic in mind, so let me take you somewhere else. one summer vacation, you convinced josh to have a little escape to the beach. it was perfect, actually, more than josh had ever expected. the place was completely empty if it wasn’t for the three families around. you had the perfect amount of privacy that you needed and so, like this, you managed to enjoy endless hours together by the sea. however, when the night arrived, you two found yourselves dirty and covered in sand. josh was the one to have the million dollar idea: to bathe together, you know, to save time and water. you barely had to think about it, as you followed your boyfriend to the bathroom and quickly got naked, while josh set the moment. once the water was perfect and both your bodies lacked clothing, you held josh’s hand as he helped you inside the bathtub, still gripping your hand tightly as you two sat down facing each other. some kisses were shared while you tried bathing your boyfriend. for some reason, you had to start with each other’s bodies as his hands were not stopping themselves from feeling every inch of your skin. you couldn’t push him back, and so you refrained yourself to only caress his toned body with the sponge. when both of your bodies were clean from sand and dirt, it was time to wash the hair. josh turned around, letting you have free and chill access to his hair. as you applied shampoo and began massaging his scalp, the romantic atmosphere was morphed with a much serious one.

“watch out with the curls, my love” josh spoke, a mix of tenderness and demand in his voice.

it made you roll your eyes, as this was a routine by now.

“this is not my first time with your hair…my love” you added a bit of an impersonation at the end, as a sign you were getting annoyed.

he laughed back, grabbing your ankles and tracing circles on it, as an attempt to calm himself down.

“you used the pu-” you had to cut him off

“the purple shampoo? no, i used vinegar” you joked while using your nails on his scalp.

the feeling of being awfully scratched plus your sarcastic answer made your boyfriend use tickles as a response, making you laugh loudly. you kissed his neck, and continued working before josh could complain again.

sam.

sooooomething tells me there’s not a chance this doesn’t turn into either sex or probably an snl sketch. i mean, i feel sam brings happiness to anything you do with him, like his own little joy and fun that changes the mood and the course of whatever you decide to share with him. showers would not be any different: if there’s any level of horniness, then the only possible end to a shower is sex, but if there’s no mood for it, then it’s all jokes and games. sam seems to be the kind of person that could never not turn everything into a prank or an adventure. showering is just another game with sam.

the scenario is super cute: both you and sam had been away from each other for the whole day. you woke up together, could only share a quick breakfast before you were off to work, while your boyfriend had to lock himself in the studio with his band. you spent the entire day just sending messages to each other, some dirty and some sweet ones, as you were needing sam in all the possible ways. you were expecting some action by the time you could see him again but, when the moment happened, it was too late; all you needed now was a shower and your comfortable bed. sam was looking forward to showering too, and so you just proposed to do it together. the idea came in the best moments, as this was the best way to hang out without stopping from getting clean and ready for bed. however, sam could never allow such mundane activity to remain as such. all sorts of jokes were released, each one making you laugh harder than the previous one. you were bending over, holding your stomach while laughing as sam did not stop for one second from pulling jokes.

“alRIGHT TIME TO SHOWER” he announced loudly, while you worked hard to gain your composure

“ok, shampoo ti-” you tried going with his flow, but the moment you felt his hands passing shampoo on your body had you stopping mid sentence to laugh loudly once more “noT ON MY BODY, SAMUEL”

“who says shampoo only works on hair?” sam’s tone was serious, though he was far from being genuine

“the law said so” you were working hard to stay on his same level, trying to match the joke. however, sam was much better at this than you, and you could not help but laugh after finishing your sentence

“who iS THE LAW? HUH?”

there was no way to beat him at his own game, and so you had another bright idea: you were fighting fire with fire. or better said, shampoo with shampoo. you were not sure by the end of the night if you truly showered or just played with shampoo, but it was nice spending any minute with your beloved boyfriend.

danny.

danny gives off the vibes of being a total simp for his partner, to the point that he would do anything for them. like, i don’t know, i feel like danny would just want you to relax and live life to the fullest while he deals with the rest. like he would tell you to let him cook so you rest, or he would carry your stuff for you, even if it’s like the smallest, lightest bag. and like, i see him being like this regularly but i feel it only intensifies when (he knows) you’re having a bad day. it may not even be like a whole bad day, maybe just a long one or a tiring one, but he’s still gonna be the biggest simp, following his partner around to baby them and take care of them so they don’t have to do it themselves.

after a long day, like i just said, you arrived home basically dragging your feet and arms across the floor. danny had been warned by you that your mood was probably not gonna be the best. this was the base of your relationship; from starters you had settled, along with your boyfriend, a strict “rule” of communication. things were always the best when being said and not hidden, as that way you prevent any misunderstandment, fight or just suffering. therefore, you took your time to rant on chat with your beloved boyfriend, crying about your boss and your undying responsibilities. you didn’t miss the chance to express how much you needed a bit of cuddling and a lot of love from daniel. however, when you arrived home, you were not expecting your desires to be fulfilled with so much potential. danny was already standing in the middle of the living room with snacks on the table, blankets on the couch and even a few “home” clothes for you to get changed into. you were in awe as you admired his work of art, joined by his cute shy smile, the one that always meant ‘this is for you’. you jumped into his arms but, before you could thank him, he signaled for you to follow him. after taking your clothes in his hands, danny made his way towards the bathroom. once more, you couldn’t believe your eyes as you took a look around the room. it was all decorated for a relaxing bath, with candles, incense and even flowers on the water. you felt like crying, but danny wouldn’t let you do it, as he began undressing you for the occasion. before he could help you into the bath, you “forced” him to join you, given that you were dying to experience this with him. though he agreed to do it, danny still wouldn’t let you do anything. therefore, you sat on the tub while your boyfriend did all the dirty work.

“not even your hair? i love doing your hair” you were a pouting mess while hugging your knees, feeling the way your boyfriend’s fingers were doing wonders on your tired shoulders

“this night is for you, baby” you didn’t need to see his face to know he was shaking his head with a soft smile

“it’s not fair! you never let me help” you stroked his legs softly, as it was the only part of his body you had near. you truly always needed to touch him, like his skin called your name

“because you’re tired, you did enough and you worked hard. now relax and let me help you get rid of this day”

with a small kiss placed on your shoulder, you managed to breathe out the tiredness that was conquering you, all thanks to the magic your danny had, only and deservedly for you.

jake.

jakey? my poor baby cannot hide his shyness when showering with you. i can see it so clearly because you know what this man has? fucking duality. jake has probably the biggest duality out of the four of them. like josh is basically the same goofy guy on stage and off stage, danny is as quiet and nice and sam is…sam, yeah. but jacob thomas kiszka is two different men: the shy, sweet man you take home to mother, and the sex you take back to bed. and like his duality comes on and off all the time and i love it, and it’s so strong when it comes to people in general. so when it’s about a partner, i feel like jake would not be able to handle it if the shower is completely romantic or just showering. if it was shower sex then he takes the lead and is basically every man for himself. but he would be the complete opposite if sex is not on the way.

the funniest part would be if the shower comes after having rough sex. like that one afternoon he had a day off and you started the day by having sex in the rudest way ever. you loved every second of it, how he pounded into you with so much strength, holding your hips in place and later leaving some beautiful purple marks on your sides. those signs of sinful experiences were your favorite memory of jake on your body, along with the love bites he would leave on whatever part of your body he desired. however, the rest of the day consisted on cooking together, napping together, going shopping together and, obviously, playing music together. before dinner, you had the urge to get clean from not doing much during the day and still getting dirty. you offered jake to join you and he was inside the shower with you within seconds. nothing was different from before, except for jake. he was quieter than ever, and even further from you than you expected. when you finally turned around to see him, you found your boyfriend in a state of shock, with little blush on his cheeks and his eyes nailed on your body. you caught on it right away, and it was your turn then to be in shock.

“jake? are you…blushing?” you had to point it out, although you were sure he had noticed by now

“i-i just…your body…your naked body…” he was not being able to form a sentence and you could only laugh at his state

“darling, you fucked me like there was no tomorrow just hours ago. how are you shocked at seeing me naked now?” you inquired while pointing at yourself

“it-it’s different!” he was trying hard to explain himself, though he was not sure of what he was feeling “it’s not the same to see you naked beneath me as we’re fucking from seeing you naked…while sh-showering…i-i don’t know!”

now he was avoiding your stare with a big smile, feeling little next to you. you smiled widely, even giggled a bit, as you closed the space between you two to kiss him passionately. his cuteness was always your favorite yet hidden aspect of jake.

[urimaginespimp]

A Half-naked Nurse and Wrong Ideas.

Bucky x Reader with fever.

Thank you @daredarling for the “you’ve gotten sick and Bucky takes care of you” idea.

——–

You should’ve known better than to race Sam under a thunderstorm last night. Waking up the next morning, you had a massive headache, your muscles felt sore, and you were shivering.

“Miss Y/N, Mr. Barnes says you’re half an hour late in training.” FRIDAY’s voice spoke, making you groan and bring your comforters above you.

“Tell him to fuck off.” you muffled under the sheets.

Barnes… He has been nothing but a pain in the ass to you. To this day, you don’t know what you’ve done for him to dislike you this much. And as if his snarky comments and glares thrown your way wasn’t enough, Steve actually paired you both for missions and trainings.

If he wasn’t so handsome you would’ve cut him already. If Steve allowed you.

Loud bangs hit your door outside. “Y/L/N you’re already 30 minutes late! That’s 5 laps extra for you!” You could hear the irritation lacing his voice.

Maybe if you ignore him long enough, the pest would go away.

“I know you’re in there!” He followed up after you ignored him.

Sighing in annoyance, you got up, with the blankets still wrapped around you, and weakly waddled your way to your door, not bothering to open up your curtains. Opening the door, A frowning Bucky was looking down on you. If you weren’t feeling so shitty, you would’ve snickered at his expression.

“Barnes why are you so obsessed with me?” your cracked voice barely managed to finish asking.

He was observing you from head to toe, noting how pale you are, and shivering under a huge comforter despite that your AC was off.

“You’re stupid.” That was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

“Well, you’re not that sma-”

“Will you shut up and go back to bed? You look like you’re about to drop dead any second now.” He interrupted you, his face still stern with no emotion.

Rolling your eyes, you turned back and weakly made your way back over to bed, pausing to groan as you remembered you forgot to close the door.

“If you’re still there, could you please close the door.” it almost pained you to even be so polite to him but you blame it to being sick.

Finally managing to lie back down, you stared up the ceiling when you heard the door finally shut gently. Sighing, you were about to let sleep take over you when something caught the corner of your eye.

Bucky was by the closed door, taking his shirt off over his head. You let out a shriek. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?!”

“You’re sick.” he replied nonchalantly, while kicking off his shoes, leaving him in his sweatpants and socks.

“And taking off your clothes is supposed to make me feel better?!” you were trying to support yourself with your elbow, facing his way. “And I meant that you close the door before leaving.”

“I don’t want to die of heat while taking care of you.” he replied in a duh tone before entering your bathroom to fetch some warm water in a basin.

You were still trying to process what he was getting at when he finally went back out, now basin with steaming water in hand.

“You got a clean towelette I can use?” has asked as he placed the basin on the foot of your bed.

“Yeah, it’s by the third dra- what the hell are you doing again?” you caught yourself as he was opening your drawers. “Because if you’re trying to kill me, doing it while I’m defenseless is just beneath you.”

“Didn’t think your IQ could get any lower but you’re sick so I’ll let this pass.” He rolled his eyes before soaking the cloth on the water. “I’m nursing you. Now lay flat and still so the cloth won’t fall off that forehead of yours.” he instructed, again sounding so casual.

You followed his orders before realizing that this whole ordeal was still very weird. “I’m sorry, I still don’t get why you’re doing this.”

He went by your head and placed the cloth on your forehead, making you sigh at the warmth it brought your chilling form. “Steve will have my head if he finds out I knew you’re sick and let you die.”

You stared at him deadpan.

“And partners are supposed to be taking care of each other.” he muttered, making the side of your mouth twitch.

“If you tell anyone I said that I’ll kill you.” he lightly threatened when he noticed your mouth twitch.

“Fair enough. And I should probably tell you that I’m prone to get mentally confused when I have fevers which is a normal symptom, but just letting you know in case I start saying something nice.” you chuckled.

He went over your mini fridge and opened a bottle of water to drink.

You look at him, noticing that he was starting to sweat a lot from the heat. His skin was glistening making you mentally kick yourself from staring.

“You got underwear?” you found yourself asking, making him choke on his drink.

“What?”

“I-I’m just saying i-if you’re that hot, you can just take off your sweatpants and I won’t mind.”

“You’re saying I’m hot?” he chuckled, having fun twisting your words, making you flush. “Hey, color’s back on your face. Maybe I should get you all flustered more.” he teased further.

“Shut up Barnes, I meant that the room’s too hot for you because the AC is off. You’re sweating like a pig.”

“Save the excuses, Y/N. You won’t mind if I’ll just be in my boxers?” he smirked at you as he took his socks off and started working on untying the strings of his sweats.

“Puh-lease, Barnes, it may come as a shock to you, but I’ve seen enough men in boxers. You’re not that…”

You trailed off what you were going to say when you noticed that this was a different kind of boxers. Why were they so tight?

You thought he meant boxer shorts, not boxer briefs. Dammit.

“I’m not that…?” He asked.

“I forgot. Fever brain.” You shrugged, diverting your eyes away from him. “Anyway, why are you so nice to me? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” He contradicts, placing his hands on his hips.

“Uh, yeah you do.” you paused to let out a cough. “You always make fun of me or provoke me in front of everyone else.”

“And how do I treat you when we’re alone, especially in missions?” he raised his brows at you, expecting that you’ll put two and two together.

“A lot nicer actually.” You muttered.

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that the team keeps insisting I have a crush on you.” he scratched the back of his head.

“That’s ridiculous. Why would they even think that?” you chuckled.

“It’s Sam’s fault. He tricked me.”

“What?”

“He was being all hypothetical, saying what if I was only allowed to date someone from the team and who would I choose. And I uh… may have said I’d choose you. And everyone else heard.” He muttered the last part, embarrassed.

It was your turn to smirk at him. “And why me?”

“Stop that. You look like a smirking corpse.” he snapped at you defensively and cleared his throat. “It’s just that you were actually really nice to me when we met. Didn’t feel like you were masking apprehensiveness like everybody did when I first got here.”

“Sounds like you have a crush on me.” you had the courage to tease him, seeing how flustered he got from telling the story.

“This is not how you treat your nurse, Y/N.”

“Yeah, a nurse in his underwear. Very ethical. And I’m not your supervisor, but I think brooding is not advisable.”

“And now as your nurse, I would advise you to quit talking and get some sleep.”  he playfully glared at you. “I’ll be by the chair to constantly check on your temperature and replace the cloth on your forehead.”

“I really appreciate what you’re doing, Barnes. I’m starting to think the team’s right.”

“Ma’am flirting with patients and vice versa is frowned upon. Now sleep.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

——–

While you were finally snoozing for over an hour, gentle knocks were heard on your door.

Standing up from his chair, Bucky quickly made his way over the door to prevent more knocks from disturbing your sleep, forgetting that he was still only in his boxer briefs.

Opening it slowly, he was met with three pairs of wide eyes belonging to Steve, Sam, and Nat.

“Hey you guys, could you keep it down? Y/N is getting some rest.”

“Uhuh… I bet she needs it.” Sam replied slowly, still wide-eyed, noting how Bucky’s slightly sweaty.

“So… when did this happen?” It was Steve’s turn to speak up.

“Oh, just this morning. She was running late and I came here with the intention of punishing her for it but I ended up taking care of her.” He explained in a low voice, still oblivious to how their teammates were getting a totally different idea.

“Woah.” Nat muttered under her breath.

“Yeah, I guess her muscles are all sore because she was moving so weakly, and her voice is all hoarse now when she talks, and -”

“Look we’re happy for you, but TMI, Buck! TMI.” Steve cut him off and the three of them scrambled away from your room, with Sam muttering he didn’t need the unwelcomed visuals, and Nat screaming for Wanda.

Now left alone and confused by the doorway, he was trying to figure out why they reacted that way when it finally clicked.

“Fuck.” he whisper-yelled, knowing that the teasing was about to get worse.

——–

Final Part

Permanent tag list: @lizzarooni

Marvel Masterlist

[nsheetee]

Awaken

Pairing: chenle x reader Genre: friends to lovers AU, fluff, mature content Length: 6.4k Summary: When Chenle invites you on a last minute trip to his family’s home in China, you’re excited at the prospect of a small vacation and about spending time with your crush. Surprisingly, Chenle’s extended family is there as well, and a series of events quickly awaken something new in both of you. Warnings/Details: female reader, explicit sex (breeding kink, unprotected sex [please stay safe], creampie) disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. the characters and events are not a reflection of reality or meant to offend in anyway.

“What do you mean you can’t come? We were talking about this literally last night, and not even 12 hours later, you can’t come?!” Chenle practically screams into his phone as he stuffs random pants and shirts into his open suitcase. “Explain yourself, Park.”

“My mom suddenly wants me to come home.” Jisung sounds apologetic and slightly timid, “She said she’s cooking dinner tonight for our family and if I’m not at the table she’ll cut my tongue off. I know she won’t actually do it, but... I don’t want to test it.”

Chenle sighs, sounding bothered by this predicament, but Jisung knows his best friend isn’t going to be that sad about his absence. It’s not like Jisung has never been to Chenle’s house in China, and although he loves the place, he knows this won’t be the last opportunity for him to fly there. When Chenle sighs once more, this time just to be annoying and show how irritated he is, Jisung speaks again.

“Don’t be like that. You love visiting your family, just think of it as an opportunity to spend more time with them.” Jisung hears Chenle fall onto his bed on the other side of the line.

“I do love to visit, but my whole family is either younger than nine or older than thirty-five. I just want someone that’s my age to be with me if I feel lonely.” Jisung pouts at that. Chenle is an outgoing person and loves to be around the people he’s comfortable with, so hearing that he gets lonely without his best friend makes Jisung’s heart hurt a bit. However, an idea suddenly pops into his head.

“Hey, you actually do have another friend our age, and I bet she would love to go to China with you.” At the mention of a ‘she,’ the only ‘she’ both Chenle and Jisung know at the moment who would want to hang out, Chenle sits up straighter on his bed and his heart rate speeds up.

“Oh, ___?” He tries to sound nonchalant, “I’m not sure. She would be meeting my family, won’t she think that’s weird? And what if she feels uncomfortable? It’s not like she can just go home—”

“There are lots of what if’s, Chenle. All I know is that she finished her finals and is on break, and probably deserves a small vacation for her hard work.” Jisung pushes, suddenly excited that he can’t come on the trip if it means Chenle can get closer to you. “Just ask her. I promise it won’t hurt.”

“If she says no, it will hurt my pride. So, that’s a lie.”

“Chenle.” Jisung replies flatly.

“Fine, fine, I’ll ask.” Chenle plays with the hem of his shirt, thinking about how nervous he got over this trip just by adding you into the equation. With some last goodbyes and a promise that Chenle will update Jisung about everything that happens this weekend, the call ends. Chenle fidgets through his phone, procrastinating calling you, but when every single app is checked and there is only the phone icon staring back at him, Chenle sighs and finds your contact, pressing the call button.

After meeting you through Jisung, you and Chenle quickly became close friends. You’re both easy-going, prefer staying up late at night, and okay with being lazy at home, so hanging out together is easy to do. It also doesn’t hurt that you’ll eat literally anything Chenle cooks, boosting his pride tenfold when you praise him endlessly for his cooking. Actually, one night at his house after he made dinner and you shared a bottle of wine on the rooftop of his house while looking at the night sky, wishing the light pollution didn’t erase all the stars, that’s when he figured it out.

You’re important to Chenle. So, so important.

He knows he has feelings for you, and that he cares about you deeply. He is aware of your presence whenever you’re in the same room and gets that longing feeling in his stomach when your attention is taken away from him. There is no doubt that Chenle is in the middle of falling head over heels for you, but he always feels the need to keep a few steps back.

He walks on a tightrope, on one end is friendship and on the other is love, and he’s stuck in the middle. You’ve given him hints of attraction and subtle nuances in your words that could possibly mean you have feelings for him as well, but nothing concrete enough that gives Chenle the confidence to walk further along the tightrope.

Maybe, just maybe, this trip can bring you two closer to the end of this balance beam.

“A trip?” Chenle hears excitement in your voice after he explains what happened with Jisung, and he feels hopeful, “That sounds like fun!”

“Great. I’ll pick you up in three hours.” Chenle feels giddy and nervous at the same time, his leg bouncing up and down to portray all of his feelings.

“Oka— Wait. Three hours?”

“Bye!” Chenle abruptly ends the call before you can ask anything else or change your mind, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed. He takes a few deep breaths and then stands up, continuing to pack his things. This time with more skip in his step that’s fueled by the promise of your presence with him for the whole weekend.

It’s already nearing 6pm when you arrive in Shanghai. You follow Chenle closely as he leads you through the airport, looking really confident about every turn he makes as he weaves through the busy and tired looking people. However, you’re both thrown off your path when a large window on your right catches your eye, the night view of the city of Shanghai making you stop in your tracks and swerve to take a closer look.

Your hands smudge the clean windows as you lean in and stare at the enormous city, the sparkling lights and tall buildings look like you just took a flight to the future, not just a few hours south.

“It’s pretty…” You trail off, not really talking to anyone in particular. Chenle, who followed you to the window and also stares at the view from beside you, smiles at the comment.

“You like it?”

“It’s amazing…” You sound like you’re in a daze, which makes Chenle smile wider.

“I should show you the view from the balcony in my room. It’s ridiculous.” Chenle nods and gives the view one more glance over. His words bring you back to reality, making you shiver.

In Chenle’s bedroom… where so many things other than watching the night sky can happen.

You heat up in embarrassment at the dirty thoughts, yelling at yourself in your head for thinking like that when Chenle probably meant it in the most innocent way.

“We should probably get going..” Chenle seems completely oblivious to your predicament, yawning as he turns around and continues walking through the airport. You follow him, lightly biting the inside of your cheek as your previous thoughts fly through your mind again.

The Shanghai airport is crowded, almost over-crowded. After traveling further through the airport, it gets hard to follow Chenle’s leather bucket hat that bobs through the sea of people and you have to grip onto his backpack so that you don’t lose him. He feels the sudden weight on his bag, turning around to see you struggling.

His hand finds yours, making you release the grip on his zippers and instead intertwine with his fingers, turning to look forward and once again leading you to baggage claim. Your hands start to sweat and you feel embarrassed, but Chenle doesn’t seem to mind as he squeezes your fingers softly and glances back at you to make sure you’re okay. He doesn’t let go of your hand until your luggage arrives, and when he does release your hold, you feel very cold and empty from the lack of Chenle’s touch.

“Mom, I’m home!” Chenle yells into his house, dragging his suitcase behind him and taking off his shoes, “I brought a friend.” You both leave your things at the door and Chenle hands you some slippers, then you follow him through the house in search of his mother. You find her in the kitchen, stove on and several pots and pans cooking food at once.

“Chenle!” She exclaims after seeing her son, and then her eyes fall on you.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” You politely greet her, slightly unsure of what her reaction to you will be.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing your girlfriend here.” She laughs gleefully and leaves the stove to come closer, almost jumping on the tile floors over to you.

“Oh, we’re n-” You begin, but Chenle cuts you off.

“Jisung couldn’t come, so I brought ___ here instead. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, it’s perfectly fine,” She smiles, which makes you relax a bit, “You’ve never brought anyone here other than Jisung, I was beginning to think you don’t know anyone other than him.”

It’s your turn to laugh, covering your mouth as you glance at Chenle to see him roll his eyes with a sour look on his face. Before he can retaliate, his mom cuts him off.

“Well, since you’re here, could you set the table? I’m running late on dinner and I need extra hands. Get out eleven plates and those high chairs we keep in the closet.” She quickly makes her way back to the stove after warmly rubbing your arm, moving faster than your eyes can follow as she adjusts spices and stirs.

“Why so many?” Chenle asks.

“Your aunts and uncles are coming over today.” At that information, you turn to face Chenle with an unsure look painted on your face.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” You step closer to him and whisper, “If you’re having a family dinner, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Of course it’s okay. Don’t even worry about it.” Chenle gently grabs your shoulders and turns you around, forcing you to walk out of the kitchen and back into the foyer. You  collect your luggage and head upstairs.

Chenle’s house has an impressive three stories with several bedrooms, an office, and a lounge room in the top two floors and the rest of the important rooms on the first floor. You didn’t see much of the backyard, but you caught sight of several trees that surround the house, making the area more private. Considering this place is close to the city, you’re amazed at how all of this belongs to Chenle and his family.

His room is on the third floor, and you take a look inside when he sets down his things on his bed. The balcony he mentioned earlier is covered with long white curtains and his bed is wide, taking up a good chunk of space. On the other side of the room, a TV hangs on the wall and there are several gaming consoles hooked up. Overall, a normal guy’s room.

“You’re next door…” He mumbles and leads you to the room next to his. The layout is a mirrored version of his room, only the balcony is replaced with large windows and the room is more generic looking rather than lived-in like Chenle’s. You set your things down and glance out of the window; you’re met with the canopy of trees that grow in his backyard.

“And your bathroom is right here,” Chenle’s voice brings you back to the room, showing you inside the bathroom, “And if you need anything, my room is right through here.” He opens a door in the bathroom to reveal his room on the other side. You nod and walk over to the bed, plopping down on the soft covers.

“Your house is amazing. I feel like I’m staying at a fancy AirBnB… but I don’t have to pay for it and there’s a family staying here too.” You both laugh at that, but your comment has you questioning your stay here some more.

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to take your time away from family.” You bite your lip and look up at Chenle, looking for his honest answer. You’d hate for Chenle to not spend all the time he can with his family while he’s here, considering he can’t visit often.

“I am 100% sure that you’re okay to stay here. I think everyone will l-love you.” Chenle clears his throat after his stutter, hoping you wouldn’t question his sudden nerves surrounding the topic of love.

“Okay.” You nod and rub your hands over your thighs to rid yourself of anxiety. You only keep asking because you hate to be an intrusion. But if Chenle is sure that your presence here is okay, then you’re going to enjoy this vacation to the best of your abilities.

“You get settled, I’ll go help my mom. I’ll get you when dinner is ready.” Chenle turns around to leave the room, but you stop him.

“Oh, I can help. It’s the least I can do, and it seems like there’s a lot to get ready.”

“But you’re a guest—”

“I don’t mind.” You smile and leave the room first, looking over your shoulder as if to beckon him to try and stop you. Chenle doesn’t, partially because he wants to spend any second he can with you, even if it’s just setting the dinner table. But he also doesn’t stop you because that would mean grabbing onto your hand and pulling you back, and Chenle almost had a heart attack at the airport the first time he did that. Thinking back on it, the action felt natural but it still startled him, and he can’t get the feeling of how your soft hands feel in his own out of his head.

“Hey, wait up! You’ll get lost.” Chenle calls out and quickly follows you out of the room.

Chenle’s family loves you. In fact, Chenle thinks they love you just a little too much.

From his mom cooing at you as you help Chenle properly set the table to his aunts and uncles endlessly talking about your hobbies and school, it seems like you’re the life of the party tonight. However, that’s not what catches Chenle’s eye.

As he’s carrying some drinks to his dad and uncles who decided to sit outside after eating, Chenle passes by the living room to see you and his nieces and nephews playing. You’re reading a book to one of the younger kids while the others are coloring next to you and constantly showing you their art, seeking your approval or ideas on what they should draw next. Chenle’s two older nephews are playing tag around the table, and overall it’s just a whole ruckus. Chenle only has a chance to glance into the room for a second before continuing his trip outside to deliver the drinks.

As he’s coming back in, he’s startled by his older nephews who took their game of tag out into the hallway, almost running into Chenle.

“Woah, woah, woah. You shouldn’t be running in the hallway, get back in the living room.” Chenle ushers the boys back and once all of them are in the living room, he shuts the doors completely to keep anyone from going back out. His eyes land on you, you’re in the same position as you were before, but now you look up at Chenle and give him a warm smile while patting the spot next to you.

Chenle sits with his legs crossed while facing the same direction as you, looking over his niece's artwork and complimenting their scribbling, and then leaning back against the couch to mirror your position.

“I guess it’s more fun to play with the kids than with the adults?” Chenle asks, making your attention move from the TV screen where a kid’s movie is playing to meet Chenle’s eyes.

“Don’t you find it fun to play with kids? I think there’s never a dull moment with these guys.” You laugh and motion around the room as if to make your point.

“So, you like kids?” Chenle asks.

“Yes, a lot.” You nod, watching him look away and nod at your words. “What about you?”

“My nieces and nephews are… a bit too wild for me.” He admits, “But I like kids. I would like to have my own kids in the future.” Chenle speaks without really thinking about his words, just talking to you about anything is nice. When he realizes what he said at the end, his eyes glance over at you to gage your reaction.

“Same here. There’s some special sort of happiness that comes with having kids. I see it all the time on mothers’ faces, and I always wonder what it feels like. I bet you can’t really find that kind of feeling anywhere else in the world.” You muse, and Chenle quickly agrees with your sentiment, involuntarily gulping as the thoughts in his head rampage.

Could you get anymore perfect for him?

You look down at your thigh, for some reason not being able to look at Chenle in the eye. “I think… You’ll be a really good father, Chenle.”

Just from your simple words, Chenle’s heart begins to pound in his ears and warmth spreads through his chest. He watches you shyly look up at him, not being able to do anything but stare at you for fear of his body moving without his control.

“Can you please read again.” His youngest niece breaks the staring contest between you two with her question, pulling your gaze away from him. When your attention is on his niece, he quietly slips out of the room and stumbles up the stairs to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

He paces around his bed, his hands running through his hair as he tries to figure out

what just happened. You said you like kids. You said you would like kids in the future. You also said you think Chenle would make a good father. Are you purely giving him compliments or… could you be hinting at something else?

Why does Chenle feel like his heart might explode any second if he keeps thinking about you. On second thought, he looks down, his pants might be the thing that explodes. Chenle sighs, slightly embarrassed that he got hard by just thinking about you.

You looked so cute playing with his nieces and nephews, so kind and genuinely warm hearted to them that it melted Chenle’s heart. He wants to see it again. He wants to see you reading a book to them and changing your voice for every character, listening intently as they tell you story after story, rubbing their backs gently as they color.

Chenle wants to see you like that with his kids.

His own thought scares him a bit, and he sits down on his bed while trying to calm his breathing. He’s even more surprised at the shot of pleasure that runs through him at his own idea. He feels his stomach turn pleasantly at the thought of a little you and him running around, you showing your love to both Chenle and your child.

Warmth grows in Chenle's heart; he wants it so bad.

He can imagine the picture so clearly in his head that it hurts him to think about it, since he knows he’s far from that point in his life. That doesn’t stop him from getting turned on, though. He digs the heel of his palms into his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to think of something —anything— else. Why is it that whenever you’re around, he can’t think of anything, but whenever you’re not around, he can only think of you?

‘It’s useless’ he sighs, scooting up on his bed and moving his bedsheets away.

Sitting against his head board, Chenle grips his sheets in one hand and his other slides down his stomach, tickling him slightly, and over his crotch. Swallowing thickly, he closes his eyes and focuses on his warm hand stimulating his member. He can’t help but let out a soft sigh at his own teasing, but soon has had enough and quickly pushes down his pants and boxers to let his dick spring out. Using some precum that glistens as it runs down the side of his dick, he starts pumping his shaft, eventually getting fully hardened.

His wrist turns every time he reaches the end of a pump and he slides down the headboard as his eyes flutter from the pleasure. Chenle is good at staying quiet thanks to the years of practice in his full house, but he can’t help the whines he emits every so often when his fingers move over his tip.

But soon, Chenle turns frustrated. He’s doing all the things he knows his body likes, but his orgasm is just too far away still. He becomes impatient, starting to shift his hips around and rub his length faster as sweat builds on his forehead, but it only hurts his wrist and makes him itch for his orgasm more.

Every time Chenle thinks of you while getting off, he feels a bit guilty.

He hopes you don’t mind it, but you hold a place in his heart and Chenle is very attracted to you, it’s impossible to think of anyone else when he’s in this position. So, Chenle takes a breather, and when he continues his stroking, he thinks about your tiny hand replacing his instead. His eyes immediately roll to the back of his head and he finds it hard to keep himself sitting up.

Chenle’s head is tilted back, his jaw dropping open bit by bit as he moves on to thinking about your warmth mouth around his cock, the way your face would look as you glance up at him and kiss up his thighs before sliding his member through your lips again.

Chenle has to shove the duvet he has been gripping into his mouth to stop the moan that almost leaves his throat, his eyes screwing shut as he imagines how good your wet pussy would feel around his dick, sliding in and out as you chase your own release. He loses composure when he imagines what your pants and moans would sound like in that situation, what your nails would feel like gripping onto his shoulder for dear life, and what the flesh of your hips and waist would feel like under Chenle’s hands as he drives you harder onto his cock.

Chenle eventually starts thrusting his hips up into his hand, desperately chasing his high to the very highest peak. Chenle has thought about you many times while jerking himself off, but this time around, the thing that makes him tip over the edge is the thought of his cum shooting into you. He lets himself fall into the pleasure, seeing stars at the thought of his seed filling you up. He milks himself as strings of cum land on his thighs and pants, going to the very last stroke until it almost feels painful.

He limply falls over on his bed, breathing heavy and ears slightly ringing from the intensity he brought upon himself. When the feeling goes away he opens his eyes and listens to the sounds of the commotion downstairs, his mom and aunties playing with the kids, and the cars that drive by outside his balcony. When he looks over at the bathroom door, his heart drops all the way to his stomach and his head turns fuzzy from panic.

You’re right there.

Maybe you think he doesn’t see you, half hidden by his bathroom door, but he sees your hand resting on the handle and he hears your heavy breaths all the way from across the room. A part of him wants to dig himself into the covers and never come back out, but he pushes that embarrassment away so he can think clearly. You’re just standing there, no doubt just saw him come, why aren’t you leaving?

“___,” Chenle calls out, his voice lower than you expected and making you flinch behind the door. “Come here.” He says it softly, but in a demanding tone, so you open the door all the way and look at him. A mess of sheets surrounds him and his hair sticks to his forehead from sweat, all of this is illuminated by the dim moonlight coming from the balcony. Taking small steps to him, you don’t know what to do with your hands or where to look, but Chenle makes it easy when he pulls you down on the bed next to him.

“Did you like what you saw?” His question startles you, “Tell me the truth.” He adds on. You nod, a question of your own coming to mind.

“Why did you say my name when you were doing… that?” Chenle’s eyes widen, not aware of your name slipping through his lips. “Tell me the truth.” You say back at him.

Something in Chenle tells him that things won’t be the same way between you two after tonight no matter how he tries to amend this situation, so he thinks he might as well take it as far as you’ll let him.

He leans into you slowly, lips sliding past your cheek and teasing the skin there, stopping to whisper into the shell of your ear. “Because I was thinking of you, why else?” He likes how you shiver, he likes seeing the goosebumps on your shoulder from his words. Scraping up as much courage as he can, he leans all the way in and places a hot kiss below your earlobe. He waits for you to push him away, but you only grab onto the front of his shirt for leverage, so Chenle continues. He presses slow and open-mouthed kisses down your neck, almost too slow, until he reaches your shoulder where he bites down gently, raising a sharp gasp out of you.

You push him away and look at his eyes. Chenle is afraid that you’ll tell him to stop because this surely means he screwed up, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the next words that come out of your mouth.

“Tell me what you were thinking about. I’ll make your dreams into reality.”

Chenle’s jaw drops slowly at that, looking over your face for any signs of a joke. But fire burns in your eyes and the hand that’s holding onto his shirt pulls him in, lips crashing together in your very first kiss.

It’s hot, the room and the kiss and the way your hand falls down to chest and stomach to reach his dick, once again twitching from just the slight sting your nails give him as they travel across his body, not to mention the way your tongue slides into his mouth, exploring every corner. The kiss is wet and messy, but neither of you care right now.

“Was it like this? Hm?” You pull away while tilting your head, somehow looking innocent as you start to pump his dick, the same way he did not too long ago. Chenle shakes his head, pushing on your shoulder to get you to sit on the floor. As you slide onto your knees Chenle grips the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, wiping his hands on it, and throwing it behind him, not caring about how dirty it will be after.

When he looks down at you between his legs, your little hands moving his pants and boxers all the way down his legs, he thinks he must be dreaming. It has to be fake, you look too good with his spit covering your lips and your hands spread out on his thighs, looking up at him curiously as if to ask for what he wants next. This has to be a dream, but when he feels your soft hair bunching up in his hand and the first touch of your puffy lips on his sensitive tip, he knows this is anything but a dream.

He’s all too excited when his hips push up into your mouth and his hand tightens in your hair. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t help how good you’re making him feel. His toes curl, his mouth releases little whimpers and pleas filled with your name, probably the most vocal he has been in his entire life.

You don’t mind the roughness from him, you like it actually, the wetness building in your core proof of that. The sight above you, Chenle’s head tilted back and the outline of his abs flexing every time your tongue swirls around his dick is more than enough to get you heated, desperate for some friction between your legs. Just when you think Chenle is going to cum, he pulls you away from him, surprising you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, suddenly afraid you did something wrong. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut hard enough that the dimples under his eyes come out. He lets you stand up, but grabs the back of your thigh to pull you closer to him.

“I should be good to you, I can’t let you sit on the floor and suck my dick all night, as much as I would like that.” That makes you chuckle a bit. Chenle smiles, moving your shirt up and peppering kisses over your stomach, right above your waistband. You remove your shirt, feeling Chenle’s hands play with the buttons and zipper of your pants.

“What’s next?” You ask after he slowly slides your pants off of your legs and throws them behind you. He looks at you, his eyes conveying how nervous he feels by your question. He’s not sure how you would feel about the next part of his fantasy.

“Can I come in you?” He asks so fast that you almost don’t register his words, but when you do your eyebrows quirk up. When you don’t say anything, Chenle continues, “I know this is kind of wild for our first time together, but I promise I’m clean and—”

“Sure.” Chenle shuts up at that, his eyes wide as he tries to read your face through the lack of good lighting. “I trust you. Do you trust me?” When Chenle nods, you climb onto his lap, your lips meeting again in a softer kiss than before. You grip the strands of his hair in the back of his head as you gently sit down on his thighs. Chenle immediately grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him, chest to chest and hips against hips so that you can feel his dick pressing against your center, raising a strangled gasp out of you.

Chenle takes that moment to slide his tongue in your mouth, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you against him while his other hand moves your hips against his own. His dick rubs against your center, the slickness that has seeped through your underwear making Chenle shake with pleasure. He kisses down your neck and chest to leave hickies on the top of your breasts while continuing to grind up into you, starting to feel obsessed with how you sound every time his dick rubs against your clit.

You’re in the middle of taking off your bra when his hand that was moving your hips moves to your front as he runs two fingers over your covered slit. It surprises you and you let out a moan, forgetting about your bra and covering your mouth to stop yourself from getting any louder. He moves your panties to the side and slides one finger in to test the waters, you clench around him instantly and sigh in relief at how he curls his finger in you.

“Relax,” He mutters and removes your bra all the way for you, his hand once again finding a palace at your waist to steady you on top of him, “I got you. You’re safe with me.” He mumbles against your shoulder between kisses as you get adjusted on top of him. Your nails that were gripping into his shoulders relax a bit, and he adds a second finger to stretch you out some more. Your shaky breath tickles Chenle’s ears when he does so, but eventually you start grinding down on his fingers.

Chenle takes a moment to watch you grind onto his hand, your eyes shut as you’re completely lost in your own pleasure. You even look pretty like this, how is that fair? Chenle can’t help but express his feelings in the form of kisses over any part of your skin he can reach. You’re pretty sure he has kissed everywhere by the time he pulls his fingers away, making you turn your attention on him.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He gives you one last chance to back out, but you nod your head in agreement, your head cloudy from pleasure and your whole body begging for him to fuck you already. He nods too, guiding his dick into your hole and letting you slide down him inch by inch. Every move downward sends his mind blank and his stomach tightening, watching how he disappears into you and twitching from how tight you are. You keep clenching around him and it’s driving him completely insane. He leans back on his hands, breathing deeply to keep himself under control.

When you’re sat all the way down, Chenle takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers together to place your hand against his cheek. You’re not sure if he even realizes he does this since his eyes are still shut in pleasure, but the gesture makes you smile a bit.

When Chenle thrusts up into you, your smile drops. Fuck, that feels good.

Chenle releases your hand and instead takes a hold of your hips keeping you steady as he thrusts up into you in a steady rhythm, drawing out unstoppable groans and moans from both of you, not caring about who’s hearing you two. His hips slap against yours with every move, sending you closer and closer to your high as you hold onto each other. When he stops for a moment, no doubt tired from all of the work, you continue to roll your hips against his.

“Ah—” He groans at your movements, “Oh my god, ___, don’t stop.” He moans. If you thought Chenle’s singing voice sounded heavenly, then you think the voice he used to moan your name might be out of this world, filled with so much feeling and lust that you don’t think he can even register what he’s saying anymore.

You feel your orgasm approaching all too fast, and when Chenle’s hips start to move again, you think he might be close too. That’s when you lean into his ear, the same way he did to you when he started all of this just a while ago.

“Come in me, Chenle.” You beg him, and his hips move faster, the grip he has on your hips so tight you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You can’t think about it right now, though, as his cock moves in and out of you mercilessly and your name tumbles out of his lips once again.

Your orgasm breaks open throughout you, spreading like a wildfire through your nerves. You’re sure you can feel Chenle all over you and all around you as you come, pleasure filling you up from your head to your toes. As your muscles flutter around him, Chenle lets go too, white and hot springs of his sperm shoot into you. He continues to fuck it into you, slowing down when he feels both of you almost topple over from fatigue.

He slowly lays down in his bed, careful when he rolls you to the side. Sliding his dick out, he watches his white seed flow out of your pussy and down your thigh, his lips opening in awe and surprise at how much he likes the sight.

“Are you okay?” He asks, suddenly realizing the redness around your hips and waist from his own hands.

“Oh, I’m great. I’m wonderful, actually.” You sigh out, your eyes closed as you are still trying to get over the orgasm Chenle gave you. Your words make him chuckle, a bit of cockiness peaking through.

“Huh, I guess I’m that good, yeah?” Chenle makes sure to send you a closed lip smile, and you peak an eye open to hit him gently against the arm before retracting and falling limp again, both of you not able to control your bubbling laughter.

Chenle always imagined what the other side of the balance beam would look like— how it would feel like. Now, as he looks at your messy hair, your shining skin under the moonlight, and your quiet mumbles about random things as you cuddle under the blanket, he thinks it may feel just like this.

Later, after you and Chenle cleaned up a bit and got situated under the covers with you laying your head on his shoulder and him tracing stars, hearts, and the Chinese characters of his name on your back, Chenle gets a phone call.

“Hey, how are you? How’s it going with ___?” Jisung asks on the other side. Once you hear his voice, you perk up and tilt your head to look at Chenle with a raised eyebrow.

“Everything’s good, really good, actually. How’s your family?” Chenle asks back, stopping his tracing for a second to flick your forehead gently, making you slightly scowl at him.

“Good, my mom didn’t cut my tongue off, as you can probably tell.” Chenle lets some air out of his nose in the form of laughter at Jisung’s joke.

“So, why did you call?” Chenle hums into the phone, burying himself closer to you under the covers.

“Don’t you remember? You said you would update me on anything that happens while you’re over there. Did something happen?” Jisung asks and Chenle can’t contain his smile as he answers.

“Park Jisung, I’m so glad you couldn’t come this weekend.”

“What? What does that mean—”

“I’m hanging up now.” Chenle ends the call, throwing his phone somewhere on the bed and wrapping his arm around you, cuddling closer to you and finally falling asleep.

[fabulouspotatosister]

goodnight, sweet angel

the doctor comes over for a surprise sleepover.

word count: 2,069 (nice.)

a/n: i know i'm kind of on a bit of a writing hiatus right now, but i was having a good day and was feeling particularly inspired by my lovely friends on discord (especially @iced-tea-possibly, hi bestie), so have this short unedited thing! honestly this is just a 13 version of that one 11 fic i wrote but i hope you enjoy!

The Doctor usually had your little routine down to a science - she'd take you on a fun adventure, have maybe one or two near-death experiences, and then drop you back on Earth for a couple of days to wind down and relax before she did the whole thing over again. It took a few tries, but eventually the Doctor would show up at your door like clockwork, always politely knocking on the door and waiting for you with a smile as bright as every star in the universe beaming on her face. And you, the lovelorn fool that you are, could never say no to that smile.

But the Doctor hadn't been back in weeks. Two weeks and five days, to be exact, but you weren't exactly counting. No, you were most definitely not marking days off of your calendar like the protagonist of a coming-of-age movie.

You'd spent the past two weeks and five days trying to distract yourself - going to work, reading books, watching movies, anything that kept your mind busy so that it wouldn't jump to conclusions at every possible chance it got. And since the Doctor's M.O was getting into trouble, it had a lot of opportunities.

Doing the dishes, however, wasn't exactly the most riveting activity.

You didn't even have that many dishes to do. Just a few plates, a bowl, and some utensils. You'd been absentmindedly scrubbing at one bowl (a surprisingly ornate souvenir that the Doctor had brought back and that you had just used for instant noodles) for about five, ten minutes now? The bowl shone underneath the dim fluorescent lights of your house, already squeaky clean, and you were still picking at a spot of dirt that probably wasn't there at all.

You groaned. What was the point of worrying, anyway? The Doctor was probably fine, and she probably just lost track of time - but there was that word again, probably. It meant a world of infinite possibilities, and there was sure to be a portion of those possibilities that were not good at all.

Stupid. You picked up the bowl again and dunked it into the water below. The intricate carvings disappeared under a sea of soap bubbles. You're just thinking like that because you like -

A loud rattling noise cut off your pessimistic train of thought. Your phone was ringing, vibrating against the tile of the countertop.

You stared at it for a minute. Two. Then you looked at the clock that hung on your wall. A quarter to midnight. If you ignored the absurdity of you doing your dishes at this time, who in their right mind would be calling you at this hour?

You picked up your phone with soapy hands and tucked it in between your shoulder and ear. "Hello?"

"Hiya!" came the Doctor's cheery voice through the receiver. "I'm in a bit of a pickle."

Unfortunately, with the Doctor, "in a bit of a pickle" could mean absolutely anything. It was more like a sliding scale, really, with "tore open my coat" on one end and "the universe is literally imploding" on the other. The definition varied wildly every time. But it was good to hear her voice, and you let a smile slip onto your face. Phone still balancing precariously, you picked up the alien souvenir bowl and started rinsing it under the tap. "What's going on?"

"It's nothing too serious," she said, which was another misleading statement she liked to bring up whenever things were indeed too serious. "Well, could be, but it's best not to dwell on it. I've lost my TARDIS."

The bowl slipped from your hand and landed with a loud noise into the soapy water below. So much for that one. "I'm sorry?"

"It's not as bad as you think!" the Doctor said quickly. "It's kind of the other way around. So correction: the TARDIS lost me. I'm a little bit stranded."

"A little bit stranded?" You tried to keep the bite out of your voice, but you swore you could hear the Doctor wince on the other end of the line. If the TARDIS really had chosen violence and stranded the Doctor somewhere, there was no telling where or when she'd been spat out. "Where are you right now? Hold that thought. When are you?"

"Um -" The Doctor paused for a moment. "Where you are, I think. Give me five minutes?"

Before you could open your mouth to ask any more questions, the line went dead. Five minutes?

A minute had barely passed before the sound of knocking filled the air. Still shellshocked, and honestly a little nervous, you wiped your wet hands in the front of your pants and made your way to your door.

You opened it slowly, peeking out of the gap. "...Hi."

"Hi," the Doctor said, with that same bright smile of hers that just loved to make your heart do roundabouts in your chest. "Sorry for the late notice. Were you busy?"

Busy trying not to think about you, thanks. "No, I was just, uh -" you opened the door wider and jerked your thumb backwards, gesturing at the dishes still in your sink, "doing the dishes. Don't ask."

She didn't. With the knowledge that the Doctor was most definitely safe, you let your mind wander. She stood there, hands in her pockets, the scattered light of the streetlamps behind her giving her what looked like a halo around her golden hair.

"Do you want to come in?" you asked.

"Can I come in?" she asked, at the exact same time.

You stared at each other for a moment. Another smile, even brighter this time, spread across her face. The cold wind of the night was blowing outside but it could have been the sunrise right then and there.

Okay, that's enough yearning for one night, you chided yourself.

"I assume that's a yes, then?" the Doctor said. She carefully stepped inside, walking past you while you closed the door behind her.

Now, travelling with the Doctor had changed how you saw the world, for better or for worse. Solving mysteries and saving worlds does tend to sharpen the mind somewhat, and when the Doctor walked past you, you could hear it - an almost imperceptible catch in her breath, like she was struggling to breathe.

"Doctor," you called, "you okay?"

"Hmm? Peachy keen," the Doctor replied, spinning around to face you. She wobbled, clearly not peachy keen, then caught herself on the arm of your sofa. "I'm fine."

Her hands were gripping at the fabric of your sofa so hard you were sure she was going to rip holes into it. You took a careful step forward, frowning. "Doctor," you said, trying to keep your voice as level as you possibly could, "be honest with me."

The Doctor squeezed her eyes shut. "I am being honest with you," she ground out. Something twisted in your chest - anger and worry but predominantly worry - and you finally, finally reached out, laying your hands gently on her shoulders. Her eyes - oh, her eyes - shot open. She stared at you, her eyes wide with an emotion you couldn't place. Underneath your hands, she was trembling.

"You're alright," you murmured. "What's going on?"

The Doctor laughed, but it was thin and shaky. "I'm the farthest thing from alright. I'm-"

Her grip on the sofa slackened and she pitched forward. You yelped, quickly wrapping your arms around her so that she wouldn't fall to the ground like a sack of potatoes, even though she was significantly heavier than one.

"Tired," the Doctor mumbled into your collarbone, fully resting her entire weight onto you. Her slow breaths puffed against your skin, and you craned your head away, trying to make sure she wouldn't feel your entire face heating up with the strength of an entire regeneration.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" you asked. It took a second before the Doctor simply shook her head no, her hair brushing against your face with every movement. "You're tired?" A nod. "D'you wanna get some rest?"

"Time Lords don't need sleep," she said, burying her face even further into the crook of your neck. Oh, she could definitely feel your skin warming up now. "The disadvantages of biological batteries. Just give me half an hour and I'll be…on my feet again."

You ignored the whole biological batteries thing, saving that question for when the Doctor was a little more lucid and you weren't freaking out. "You are not going to be on your feet in half an hour because I'm putting you to bed," you said, a surge of confidence running through you. She needed you. You had to be there for her. "Okay?"

The Doctor, who usually bounced off the walls and talked a million miles an hour, simply hummed an affirmative and went absolutely pliant in your arms.

After a few minutes of hauling a Lord-knows-how-many kilogram alien into your bedroom, you set the Doctor down on your bed. Her head lolled against your favorite pillow, eyes closed as you continued to tuck her in.

Oh. Oh. She was in your bed. The last of the Time Lords, the Oncoming Storm, the Predator of the Daleks, was peacefully sleeping in your bed. You desperately tried to ignore the sudden wave of yearning thoughts that roared into life in your mind, threatening to drown every other coherent thought in your brain, because you needed your brain to function, thank you very much.

Slowly, you sat down on the bed next to her. It was strange seeing the Doctor so calm. Usually, it was terrifying to see her go still, whether in anger or in sorrow, but now - she was just resting. It might have been stranger than anything you'd ever seen on your travels. You'd been through different extraordinary  scenarios with her, but somehow the most mundane one - the Doctor dozing off in your bed - was the most magical.

You let a thumb stroke her cheek. She barely moved, but you could see the barest hint of a smile on her lips.

You were so caught up in staring at her peaceful face like a yearning idiot that you didn't catch what she had whispered. "Huh?"

"C'mere," the Doctor muttered, arms flopping against the bed and beckoning you closer.

You shook your head, smiling fondly at her. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't do that. "You need to sleep."

"No," the Doctor said, "I need you."

Maybe that was just her tired Time Lord brain talking. She would never - and had never - said anything like that to you ever, and it made you wonder if she had been lying to you when you asked whether she was hurt or not. But there she was, lying in your bed, her arms open because she wanted you there.

It felt like a dream. It probably was. 

You lay down beside her, grimacing as your back hit the bedsheets. Turning your head to the side, you looked at her for another moment. 

You shifted, inching closer and closer to her, and then you stopped, your shoulders just shy of touching. You couldn't.

You hesitated, and the Doctor made a small plaintive noise. 

That settled it.

You bundled the Doctor into your arms, letting her settle onto you. Every curve of her body slot neatly against yours, like she was always meant to be there. She snuggled closer and buried her face into the crook of your neck again. Seemingly content with her new position, she sighed, lazily pressing her lips to your collarbone. "Thank you," she whispered.

Your heart probably stopped beating. You waited for her to take it back, say that she was joking. She did no such thing, and instead kissed your collarbone again, slower, letting her lips linger on your heated skin. 

As if your mind was on autopilot, you lifted your hands to the Doctor's head, letting your hands card through her hair. If it was even possible, she relaxed even more, completely melting into your touch. 

"No need to thank me," you said, when your voice returned to you. "I'm always here when you need me."

Just a few moments later, the soft sound of wheezing and groaning echoed throughout the quiet moonlit streets. The TARDIS slowly materialized near your front door, the blue box standing proudly outside your house.

She'd never played matchmaker before. Mission accomplished, then.

[1kook]

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.  warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.  

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.  

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?” 

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.  

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence. 

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[nari-nim]

Treasure legal line kink thoughts

nari note: anyways, so I decided to compile a bunch of my kinky thoughts from my matchmaking hours event. This is a live doc, I’ll be adding and moving things around so lmk if you agree/disagree/have any suggestions 

Hyunsuk

Soft dom. 

Sensory deprivation - Obsessed with tying you up, or putting a blindfold on you, or using headphones playing the filthiest songs he produced for you to increase the intensity of sex. You look so innocent like that...maybe feeds into a corruption kink here?

Oral fixation - Big on giving. He will eat you out with any chance he gets. He will be so down to spend hours going down on you, lapping at your core, arms wrapping around your thighs, pulling you close, hands helping you arch your lower back, making sure he’s sucking into your favorite pleasure spots, not satisfied until you’re crying out from those good, good orgasms. He also just likes to see your lips wrapped around him, whether it be his cock or fingers, he loves they way your expression changes when he fucks into you or presses his finger against your tongue.

other members under the cut

Jihoon

Hard dom.

Daddy kink - he loves the rush of pleasure and control that surges through him when you follow anything he says with a sweet, “yes, daddy” as you absolutely let him have whatever which way with you. Whether it be him spanking you as he pounds into you so hard, calling you his cumslut as he fills you up or his whore as he squirts all over your face, or when he makes you orgasm over and over again until you are screaming

Strength kink - Hah he basically could cum from the way you grab onto his biceps when he rails you. Also um he loves manhandling so fucking much like he loves the rush of throwing you onto the bed or moving your body in various ways so he hits that spot just right. Loves the way you look up at him, eyes wide, breath caught at your throat and all. 

Overstimulation - Oh my god he tries to do this basically every time. Likes to see if he can push the two of you past your usual limit. Likes to fit in at the very least 3 rounds, even it’s supposed to be quick. Experiments with a variety of positions to achieve this, with a strong preference for deepthroating and facefucking. Will want you to sit on his face :)

Begging - he loves it when you to hear you beg. Feeds a little into power kink, daddy kink, and all but he just loves it when you are crying and begging for him uwu

Cum play - Sorry not sorry he loves cumming all over you and smearing it all over so you’re basically covered in him by the end. Likes to see you swallow his cum, so will fuck his cum back into you (if he doesn’t pull out) with his fingers and feed you the mixture of his cum and yours. Likes to cum down your throat or give you a facial if you’re giving him a blowjob. Likes watching his cum slide down your torso if he cums on your boobs and smear it over your stomach for a good measure. Likes how it marks you as his and how much of a mess you look like that 

Also into making you cry (:

Yoshi

Soft dom.

Breeding kink - Yoshi loves fucking you raw, cumming into you again and again, seeing him cum roll down your inner thighs, fucking it all back into you again, loving how he continuously fills you up to the brim. He loves hearing you encourage him, asking him to fill you up, telling him how much you love feeling his cum in you. Yoshi also just loves leaving marks all over your body, his favorite would be your inner thighs and upper chest region. He loves the way you just let him do what he wants with you and the way you cave into his touch.

Sir/master kink - not necessarily a daddy kink, I see him more as someone who likes to be addressed with that level of authority in the bedroom which feeds a little into a bit of a praise kink. He knows he’s good and he wants to hear it. It fuels him as he becomes the most perfect service top. 

Face sitting - Ohhh, I think he really likes face sitting! Loves hearing the way you are screaming for him as you come undone from on top of him. Loves grabbing at your thighs and ass to control your squirming. Just loves making you feel so good and hearing all of your load moans. 

Eye contact - He demands eye contact when he fucks you. Will prioritize positions where he can look into your eyes and see how fucked out you are while pounding into you. Will grab your chin and tilt your face up while you suck him off. Likes the heightened level of intimacy that eye contact gives

Junkyu

Switch with sub lean.

Praise kink - Loves to drawl filthy praises or rasp degradations into your ear turns you on. And honestly, he loves it too. The dom part of him loves to praise you while snapping his hips into you in a fast pace, groaning out how beautiful you are and how much he loves you. Loves slipping his hands into yours as he thrusts into you, moaning your name into your ear and telling you how good you feel, how beautiful you look taking him so well, and just what a good girl you are. He loves praising you when you suck him off extra good, egging you on as you take him again and again, and asking you if you liked that when he rails into you. But also loves it when you compliment him, tell him how well he is doing and how good he’s making you feel and feel the way his cock twitches inside you in response. He’s also pretty vocal, with lots of low moans and whines, so he’ll probably shyly ask you to be kind of loud as well. Nothing boosts his ego like you reversing the attention and telling him how hot he is. He is a sucker for being the best at what he does and wants to hear that from you in particular. 

Ice play - Something about the sting of the ice followed by your warm tongue drives Junkyu batshit. The sheer contrast feels so good for him and he will be a moaning mess under you. When giving, he loves to use it especially during oral sex, watching the way you squirm and whine as he teases you before eating you out.

Marking - loves to leave hickeys on you, and for you to leave marks on him but only where the two of you will find it. He’s proud of the bruises on your neck and hip area the next day. In his slightly possessive mindset, likes how that marks you as his and will ward off anyone who even dares looking at you 

Breath play - Even if it’s not full on choking, likes for either one of you to wrap your hands on the other’s neck to exert control. Likes the feeling of your delicate neck in his hands and the way your lips part in lust when he wraps his huge hands there...and also likes the full control he places in your hands when you start to squeeze. 

Mashiho

Switch with dom lean.

Lingerie kink - oh man is this man into visuals. I think he definitely has a lingerie kink because you? in that sexy thing he got for you? You definitely always have him weak in the knees and horny as hell for nothing.

Edging - mentioned this in my MTL, but yeah Mashiho strikes me as someone who is secretly into this kind of control in bed. Whether he is giving or receiving this treatment, he gets off on the neediness that just continues to build and build and build towards the final release that comes with either one of you screaming, and then not being able to move too much for a few minutes from being way too fucked out.  Likes doing this a lot, no matter if he’s subbing or domming

Orgasm control - he would be really, really into controlling when you cum. Likes the rush of power he feels and the way you listen so well to him.

Toys - Would use it more of you than the other way around, but likes to use toys to help him edge you and tease you to make you more and more needy for him

Jaehyuk

Soft dom.

Cum play - likes seeing his cum on your body, likes to smear it around you, fuck it back into you, make you clean it off his fingers. Thinks it’s so fucking hot watching you covered in him

Thigh riding - Um he loves watching you trying to get yourself off on him. A little flattered you would choose to use him like that, but mostly just likes to tease you a little while you are a needy, moaning mess on top of him. Likes to rest a rough hand on your hips while you rut into him, watching your face intently with a sinful expression

Finger sucking - likes to place a few fingers in your mouth and feeling the way your tongue swirls and sucks around him, because it helps him anticipate what’s to come

Body worship - He thinks you are beautiful and will be very vocal about it in bed. Will spend so much time appreciating every part of your body and make sure you are feeling so pleasured the entire time. Type to stand you in front of a mirror and compliment you as his runs his hands over your body, circle your clit, and dips his fingers into you.

Asahi

Switch with no lean.

Bondage kink - Loves tying you up sooooo much oh my god something about the way you look squirming so desperately for him makes him a little lightheaded. He probably won’t mind being tied up either haha. He likes seeing it as a challenge to get out of the restraints and put you in them.

Power exchange - I see him as someone who will dom the shit out of you but also find a lot of fun in giving you the power to see what you would do with it. Loves it when either one of you just gives control to the other and establish that sense of trust as you rail each other uwu

Cumplay - Every time you go to the bathroom to flush out the load he leaves in you after a particularly eventful session, he always makes sure to watch how his cum trails down your thigh, biting his lip as he considers the possibility of yet another round

Cockwarming - Also, he is obsessed with cockwarming oh my god. He also loves the comfort of having your presence in his room as he mixes away at his beats. Once he finishes a part he is satisfied with, he’ll sit you on his lap and help you into his headphones, giving you the warmest back hug as you appreciate the pure talent this man has. Good luck trying to come up with proper feedback as he presses gentle, loving kisses on your shoulder, making you melt at the tenderness of the moment.

[dollslayer]

Charity Case

Bucky Barnes x Reader, College AU, enemies to lovers

Summary: You loathe Bucky Barnes and his cocky attitude but you find yourself doing him a favor. Is he really as insufferable as he seems?

W/C: 3,830

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, uhhh kissing, that's it!

A/N: Here it is! My entry for @sweeterthanthis Quote Me On It 6k challenge!! My quote was "Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?" (in bold). I love the Heathers so I'm excited!! Hopefully I did this prompt justice. As always, if you liked it please reblog/comment! Cheers! I do not consent to my work being reposted/translated on any platform.

Main Masterlist

____

Steve was running late again. You try not to chew your nails off in frustration but he’s definitely testing you. This is the third time in the last two weeks that he’s late to meet you. When he hasn’t been late he’s cancelled all together. Always with a half-ass apology of ‘Bucky needs me’. As if.

You’ve been friends with Steve since your freshman year creative writing class when the only open seat was next to him. Ever since that first day you two had been close. But not as close as him and Bucky. Childhood friends attending university together, thicker than thieves.

You always felt like Bucky was maybe a little jealous of the friendship you and Steve have. Maybe you’re a little jealous too but you’re almost positive Bucky is more jealous of you than you are of him but that’s beside the point. On top of his jealousy Bucky was just annoying. He had a girlfriend but he was always flirting with every girl he met, yourself included. Not to mention he was cocky as all hell.

Steve vouches for his character, swears that it’s all an act and he’s actually very sensitive underneath but you don’t buy it for a second. If you were his girlfriend you’d have dumped him a long time ago.

You don’t have time to dwell on your annoyance too much because Steve is rushing through the doors of the coffee shop. He looks around for you and when he finally finds you the look on his face is relieved. As he gets closer it’s clear that he’d been running to get to you in time. He’s sweaty and a little out of breath and if you weren’t so annoyed with him you’d have found it endearing that he ran here.

“There you are,” he huffs out, “I’m so sorry, I was with Bucky and I lost track of time.”

You purse your lips and hand him a napkin which he takes with a gracious nod before wiping the sweat from his brow. You hand him the iced coffee you’d ordered for him too. The ice is slightly melted from sitting there but he looks so refreshed to be drinking it.

“Figures” is all you say with a huff. If he hadn’t been doing it so often you would’ve been a little kinder about it but you were just irked.

“Seriously, I’m sorry. Nat just dumped him, he's been having a hard time” Steve explained.

“Is it because he flirts with anything that moves?” You scoff.

Steve scoffs in return “He does not! He’s just… outgoing. But no, they had their own problems.” You raise one eyebrow at him. “Okay the flirting had something to do with it but there’s a lot going on there.”

“Whatever, let’s just study for this exam while we can”.

____

You and Steve spent the next two hours cramming for your midterm together. Things were going well and you’d nearly forgotten that you were mad at Steve in the first place. Nearly.

You were so deep into your notecards that you didn’t hear the door open behind you. A voice that could grate on only your nerves. A voice that if it didn’t belong to such a bastard, might even be kinda sexy. The voice breaks your focus completely when it calls out.

“Hey, Steve, are you done already or what? Oh hey, what’s up, beautiful?”

You set your notecards down on the table maybe a little harder than you should. You shoot Steve a glare because you thought it would just be the two of you. Really? You cut in before Steve can answer his friend.

“No, Bucky, he’s not. Can we help you?”

He smirks, giving you his full attention. He knows he has you now, knows you took the bait and he’s goaded you to the point of backtalk. He pulls up a chair to the table and wedges himself tightly between you and Steve. The sound of the chair legs scraping the floor as he scoots closer to you rings in your ears and makes you cringe. You look at Steve again only to find him avoiding your gaze.

“Well, sweetheart, me and Stevie boy here have plans later. Gonna do some gaming and order a pizza, really embracing the bachelor lifestyle.” He raised his eyebrows at this and you just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I heard Nat dumped your ass, actually, is that true?” You asked with a fake sweetness.

“Why, you interested?” He rebuffed.

You bristled at his quick response and muttered your annoyance under your breath. You chose not to respond. Instead you decided to address Steve.

“Steve, I didn’t realize that you had plans”

“Oh… yeah, loose plans…” He answered distractedly while pretending to be reading a text on his phone.

You decide to call it a day. You were getting seriously fed up with Steve’s passive behavior in all of this. Thankfully you didn’t have much to pack up, so once you slung your backpack over your shoulder you looked up at the pair to bid them goodnight.

“Well, Steve, this was… enlightening. Bucky, eat it. Goodnight fellas, have fun with your ‘bachelor lifestyle’” You said with air quotes. Turning on your heel you left before either could respond.

____

You had left the coffee shop that evening pretty upset with Steve. Of course it’s fine for him to have other friends but lately it was like he only cared about Bucky and all of your plans took a backseat to theirs. You decided you weren’t going to be the one to text Steve first, since he was being a bad friend. He could be the one to initiate plans.

He did just that when he caught you in the hallway after your midterm a week later. He jogged up to you once again and tugged on your sleeve to get you to stop.

“Hey, how do you think you did? Bet those notecards paid off, right?” He half-joked. He looked sheepish. Nervous almost. You figured it was because of what happened last time you met.

“Yeah, Jesus Christ! I’ve never been so grateful for little pieces of paper.” You scoffed. You decided to keep it light between you. You were still upset with him but his tone leads you to believe he was gonna apologize.

“Right?” He laughs nervously, “So listen, I know I’ve been kind of a jerk lately… Maybe we could get something to eat at Nick’s?”

Nick’s was the local greasy spoon on campus and they had the best breakfast food you’d ever had. You eyed him suspiciously but accepted.

“Alright, but you’re buying. And there better not be any visitors!” You add as you bound down the hall ahead of him. He knows you mean Bucky and he’s not worried because Bucky won’t be showing up today. He’s more nervous about what he has to ask you.

____

You’re sipping on pop as you play with your straw wrapper. You look up at Steve and notice he’s fidgeting a lot more than usual.

“What’s up? Why are you so twitchy?” You question him.

“Me? I’m not twitchy! I was just thinking that’s all” He quickly defends himself.

“Well that was the last midterm of the semester for both of us, I think it’s safe to say you can relax.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” Steve concedes quietly.

You and Steve eat in near silence, neither of you mind though because it’s comfortable. You worked on your hashbrowns when you looked up and noticed that Steve had barely touched his food. He was still fidgety, he looked nervous.

“Hey, you’ve hardly eaten anything, what’s the matter?”

He looks a little embarrassed, like he’s been caught. Or like he’s about to come clean about something.

“Look, I wanted to say sorry I know I haven’t been the best friend lately with everything going on with Bucky. He really is having a hard time since the breakup y’know… he’s lonely”

“Right” You laughed, “I’m sure he’s soo lonely.” You rolled your eyes and picked up your fork.

“No really, he just needed a friend to be there. I think he does need to get back out there though.”

“With how smooth he thinks he is, I'm sure he’ll have a date by the end of the night. I wouldn’t worry about it, Stevie.” You responded.

“I’m serious! As much of a player as he comes off he needs to be with someone he already knows. He’s actually really sensitive.” You interrupted with another laugh. There were many choice words you’d use to describe Bucky Barnes but ‘sensitive’ is not one of them.

“But anyway, I was...kinda hoping you’d do me a favor…” Steve trails off.

Based on the conversation you just had you’re cautious. You eye him warily but motion for him to continue.

“Well, like I said Buck’s having a hard time and he needs to get back out there but he doesn’t feel comfortable hooking up with a stranger. I was thinking maybe.. You guys should hang out?”

Steve refused to look at you as he finished the question. The look on your face was a look of confusion and shock.

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?” you asked in disbelief. “I mean seriously, I’m nice but not that nice.”

“Look-”

“No!” You cut him off, “You know I can’t stand that prick. Also why would I want to put myself on the long list of women he’s probably tried to fuck? I don’t buy this whole ‘sensitive’ thing for a minute.”

“I’m serious, Nat kinda crushed his heart when she left. He acts cocky but it’s a front. I just think he needs to see someone to get it out of his system. You’ve got more in common than you think. Just hang out with him once. Don’t think of it like a date, just a really really big favor. Please?” Steve begged.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “You. Owe. Me. So. Much”

“Really?” He asked hopefully.

“Really. But I’m not gonna bang him. Hard no on that” you said.

“Yeah, yeah of course! No problem! I’ll give Bucky your number!” He reached across the table and grabbed your hand. His hands were kidna clammy but you let him.

“Seriously, thank you. I know you think he’s some jerk but I promise he’s a good guy.” Steve adds, “A-and don’t think of it as like a date, even, y'know? I think honestly he could just use another friend. Think of how good it could be if we could all hang together some time?”

You shook your head and chuckled at his optimism while you stabbed another bite of your meal.

____

‘What’s up, sweetface?’ Gross.

‘Okay, sorry. Hi, how are you?’ Better.

‘I’m alright, you?’

‘Good. Steve tells me you’re a huge trivia nerd. Wanna go to Sally’s tn?’

‘It’s a date’ Shit. Didn’t mean to say that. Fuck. Quick- say something that will deflect before he responds!

‘And since it’s a date you’re paying’ That’ll have to do.

‘Ugh fine. Here’s hoping you’re a cheap date at least. I’ll meet you there at 9’

____

What do you wear for a date with someone that you despise? It’s just bar trivia so it’s nothing special but somehow the jeans and flannel you’ve been wearing all day don’t feel like they make the cut. You rip your closet apart trying to find something before you settle on black skinny jeans and your favorite sweater with some boots. Casual but not too casual.

You spend the whole walk there dreading the night ahead of you. Knowing that you wouldn’t even have Steve as a buffer between you made the whole evening seem daunting. At least you had trivia to distract you. You decide to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt tonight for Steve’s sake. You try to remember Steve’s insistence that Bucky’s a good guy and you have a lot in common. We’ll see about that.

When you arrive at the bar you find Bucky already waiting for you at a high-top table with two PBRs and a shot of brown liquid. Please don’t let that be whiskey. He sees you coming and smiles that damn-his-good-looks smile at you while patting the open chair next to him. The closer you get you even see that he got the whiteboard already for trivia.

“Please tell me that’s not Jameson or Fireball” you greet him.

He laughs a little and shakes his head. “Better - it’s Jack. Sorry, doll, but I already opened the tab. This is what we’re drinking” He nudges one of the shots closer to you and motions for you to pick it up. “Come on, we gotta start the night off right, bottoms up!”

Before you can gag at the thought of drinking whiskey you grab the glass and face him. You both knock your shots on the table before clinking them together and swallowing them in one go. You grimace at the taste and feel the warmth flow all the way down your throat. You quickly take a sip of your beer to rid yourself of the taste.

“Aww, you’re cute when you’re grossed out.” Bucky coos at you.

You’re embarrassed and annoyed but it goes away quickly.

“Shut up, Barnes”

You give him a light shove and he pretends like he’s about to fall off his stool, making you laugh. For someone that’s only ever annoyed you he’s doing a pretty bang-up job of being likeable when it’s just the two of you.

“You ready for me to carry you through some trivia?” You joked.

“Hey, now! I know...stuff” he concluded.

“Mmhmmm, I’m sure you do. Don’t worry, I’ll answer the questions and you just sit there and look pretty” you reach over to pat his face lightly with a wink.

Bucky grumbles before taking another sip of his beer.

You settle in for a long night when the host announces the first round is starting.

____

You managed to steal the first round without breaking a sweat, second round was a little rocky until it came down to you and one other couple. You knew the third round would be tricky but the way Bucky was cheering you on you were determined. To no one’s surprise Bucky had been completely useless so far but to his credit he was trying. At least he was a supportive teammate.

Things were going well until the third round was announced: Old School Videogames. You didn’t know shit about old school videogames. Or regular videogames. The extent of your video game knowledge started and ended with Mario Kart.

When the third round was announced though Bucky hit the table in excitement and cheered.

“Woo! Fuck yeah!” He pats you on the shoulder, “I got this, don’t worry. I so fuckin’ got this!”

He was a few drinks deep but he was so confident and he was your only hope so you went with it. He looked like a little kid the way he was practically giddy.

“You had better! There’s some serious prize money riding on this round.” You said in warning.

“No, no. You don’t understand that I’ve GOT this. Your turn to look pretty, not that it’s gonna be all that hard for you, sweetface” Bucky grinned at you over his beer as he took another sip.

Your cheeks felt heated and you tried your best to hide it by taking another drink yourself. Bucky’s flirting has never worked until now. Must be the alcohol.

“Shut up, Barnes” you mumble.

“Y’keep saying that but what I really think you mean is ‘I love you, Bucky you’re so strong and handsome~’” He imitated in a high pitched feminine voice.

You shoved him for real and before you could say anything else the third round was starting.

____

Bucky wasn’t kidding when he said he had this. He had won the round in a clean sweep and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t impressed. Who knew this man harbored so much videogame trivia? When the host handed you the prize money he just waggled his eyebrows as if to say See?

“I gotta hand it to you, Barnes, I had no idea you had that much videgame wisdom rolling around up there. The only videogame I ever play is Mariokart so I’d be toast without you.”

“Mariokart? That’s it?? No problem, doll. It was nice to contribute.” He chuckles at that.

You divvied the money up and handed him his half.

“Guess I’m not such a cheap date afterall, huh?”

He chuckled as he took his half from you.

“I’m gonna go pay the tab with our winnings, I’ll be back”

You picked up your phone while you waited for him to find some missed texts from Steve.

‘How’s it going?’ ‘Are you guys doing okay?’ ‘I haven’t heard anything so I’m assuming you haven’t killed each other. Have fun, text if you need a ride home.’

You almost rolled your eyes at Steve’s insistence but found yourself smiling instead. You’d text him back when you got home.

Bucky was walking up to you once more and you smiled at him slightly.

“You said you’re good at Mariokart?”

“I didn’t say I was good at Mariokart, I said that I played it. Why?”

“Well I was thinkin’ maybe we could go back to mine and I could whoop your butt”

You weren’t going to say yes but now he was goading you and you took the bait without hesitation.

“Oh, you’re on, Barnes. You’re so, so on.”

His smile grew wider when he heard your response. With that he placed his hand on your lower back and ushered you out of the bar.

____

You played two tournament cups worth of Mariokart and Bucky had indeed whooped your butt. You don’t know why you were surprised, with how much gaming he and Steve do it’s no surprise he’s a natural. You still had fun though. Just when you were about to propose a third round Bucky got up and headed to the kitchen without a word.

He came back with two glasses of water and handed you one. He sat down on the floor next to you and you set down your controller.

“Here, drink up.”

You were taken aback a bit by the kind gesture but accepted the glass just the same.

“Thank you, I might regret saying this but, you’re not so bad when you’re not being insufferable, Barnes”. You told him

He smiled and shook his head as he drank his water.

“Thanks, I guess”

“How come you can’t be like this all the time? When it’s just the two of us you’re so kind and you’re even… I don’t know, funny maybe. Why do you get all cocky whenever else I see you?”

He looked down into his glass at your comment and you watched his brows crease in thought.

“I don’t know, it just sort of… happens, whenever I’m around other people I don’t know that well. I don’t mean to be a dick or anything but it’s like I can’t help myself. People expect me to be a certain way and I can’t help but fall into it sometimes. Nat hated that about me, it’s part of the reason why she dumped me, actually”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that. And I’m sorry about the breakup, too. I know you guys were together for a while.” Bucky only shrugged at this and downed the rest of his water.

“It is what it is. I’m ready to be over it, I’m getting there slowly but surely. I gotta say, you’re not so bad either when you’re not getting all defensive and in my face. You’re actually pretty funny”

Your turn to become flustered at a personal analysis.

“Thanks, I guess I don’t mean to be so defensive either, it's just my response to most other people. I feel myself slip into it and it can’t be helped.” You explained.

Bucky nods at you, not knowing entirely what to say in response.

“I like spending time with you” He says leaning closer to you.

You swallow thickly, not sure what to make of what you feel knowing his face is so close to yours.

“I… like spending time with you too. You’re not what I thought.”

“Me neither,” he shakes his head, “You’re something else.”

With that he leans his head closer to yours and you feel yourself close your eyes and move your lips to slant perfectly into his. You’re kissing Bucky Barnes. The Bucky Barnes you can’t stand. That Bucky Barnes. You’ve decided that his tongue feels too good in your mouth to care now.

His hands come to frame your face and bring you in closer. His hands are warm and calloused but they feel like comfort. You can’t help but to melt. You moan into his mouth and it seems to spur him on. He pulls you into his lap and you let out a noise of surprise that’s muffled by his mouth on yours.

Your hands come to caress his sides and you take your time feeling every muscle and ridge. Your hands idly make their way under the hem of his shirt and his skin is just as smooth as you’d expect. He sighs into your mouth and it takes all of your strength not to fall apart right there. You feel yourself getting lightheaded and have to pull away for air. When you do you rest your forehead against his and the only sound is both of your breathing.

You finally brave a look at him and he has the softest smile on his lips.

“Sorry, doll, didn’t mean to get so carried away but I’ve been waiting for a long time to do that.”

This catches you off guard.

“You have? Wait, did you like me? But you flirt with everyone!” You explain.

“With you, I flirt with you. You just can’t stand me” he laughs out, “Nat dumped me for a couple reasons but that’s one of them she told me I needed to get my priorities straight and I gotta say, I’m thankin’ her for sayin’ it ‘cause she was right.”

You don’t know what to say or what to make of any of this. All you know is that you want to kiss him again, so you do. You grab him by the collar and pull him into you again. He lets out a startled noise but kisses you back all the same.

You don’t care what you used to think of Bucky Barnes and you don’t care about what’ll happen after today. Right now all you care about is feeling him in sync with you for the first time. You could live in this moment forever but right now will have to do.

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

F*cking up the friendship

Word count: 3501

Genre: Angst and fluff

Pairing: Wanda x Natasha x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol (let me know if I need to add any)

Summary: You sometimes forget Nat and Wanda are dating each other but when they go off on a date you feel sad and add alcohol to the mix, unable to fully control your words around them when they come back.

A/n: I’ve been in a huge wandanat x reader mood recently so you’re probably going to get spammed with a lot of these. Originally this was supposed to be a 1k words get together fluff fic that was suggested to me but then I added angst and other stuff so I decided to make the fluffy get together fic separately. Anyways I hope you all enjoy this, I spent hours yesterday writing so I could finish it in one day. 

You sigh loudly as you flip through Netflix, finding nothing interesting to watch. Usually on a Friday night you would be doing something with Wanda and Nat but today they had told you they had a special date planned so you haven’t seen them at all. It was a completely horrible idea to fall in love with your two best friends who happened to be dating each other but your heart betrayed your brain and now you were stuck in this situation, finding it impossible to get over the two most amazing women you had ever met. Spending nearly all your time with them did not help and everyday you feel your heart break a little when they kiss each other in greeting but only give you a smile. You know you should be thankful for their friendship, and you are, but it also pains you to know that there can never be more. 

You imagine what it would be like to share kisses and wake up wrapped in their arms. One time when you had fallen asleep on the couch after staying up late watching movies with them Natasha had carried you to bed and tucked you in and Wanda had said goodnight with a kiss on your forehead. You never talked about that night because you had pretended to be asleep but you replay it over and over in your mine, wishing that it wasn’t a one time thing. They are so strong, so kind, so smart and just so amazing in every possible way. It’s fitting that they are together but it also sucks to have to watch the perfect people have a perfect relationship while you pine silently, always trying to be a supportive friend. 

You try to think positive thoughts but you can’t help but wonder what they could be doing now which ruins your mood. Nothing on Netflix looks good to watch by yourself with nobody to make fun of cringy rom-coms with or to hide your face in during horror movies. It’s almost scary how much time you’ve spent with them recently and how reliant you’ve come to be on it. Come to think of it you can’t remember the last time they went on a proper date and you start to wonder if by watching movies with them you were actually intruding upon their alone time. You hope they would have been honest and told you if you were but they have always been nothing but nice to you so it’s possible they just didn’t want to hurt your feelings. 

Giving up on watching altogether you throw the remote aside carelessly, wincing when it bounces off the couch and hits the floor with a bang, and stand up. Making your way out of the living room and over to the room where the mini bar is you push all the thoughts from your mind, focusing only on the fact that you really need a drink right now. You don’t bother to turn the lights on when you enter the room, heading straight for the bottles and pouring some whiskey into a glass, much more than a recommended size. 

Sitting down on the couch you take a gulp. It burns and tastes disgusting, you’ve never been one for drinking but tonight you enjoy the feeling, not drinking for pleasure but drinking to hopefully forget. It takes about an hour before your thoughts get all muddled and you feel more relaxed. You slowly start to close your eyes and drift off to sleep when you are woken suddenly by a thump and a stream of curse words. You startle and your hand jerks spilling the rest of your drink all over your lap. 

Natasha and Wanda are standing a few feet in front of you. Natasha is looking at you with an expression you can’t recognize in your inebriated state and Wanda is clutching her foot, looking darkly at the leg of the coffee table. 

“Shit.” You mumble loudly, both at spilling your drink and at seeing them while drunk. This wasn’t supposed to happen, they were supposed to still be gone and now you’ve just embarrassed yourself completely in front of them. 

“Hey, Y/n,” Natasha is at your side in an instant, cupping your face in her hands, “let’s get you cleaned up okay?”

Wanda is there a second later, hovering. “And then maybe you could tell us what’s wrong.”

“Nothhhing’s wrong.” You slur, standing up. “Goodnight.”

“No no no, you’re not going anywhere by yourself right now.” Natasha tells you firmly, grabbing your arm. You don’t protest, partly because you know they are both stubborn and will always win and partly because you secretly want to spend as much time with them as possible. 

“Listen to Nat,” Wanda advises, “can you walk?”

“I can walk.” You say, crossing your arms and trying to look serious

Natasha raises an eyebrow, doing a horrible job at stifling her laughter for a spy. “Show me then.”

You take a few steps forward, looking triumphantly at Natasha before you stumble, arms flailing out and grabbing Wanda to prevent yourself from falling. Wanda helps pull you back up straight and kisses you on the forehead.

“I think the correct answer to the question is no.” She tells you amused. “Let me help you.” 

She doesn’t wait for a response and hooks an arm underneath your shoulders to help support your weight. You lean into her and match her steps, frowning when Natasha hurries away in front instead of walking with you.

“She’s just going ahead to grab something.” Wanda whispers, noticing your expression. You feel your entire body shiver from the sound of her whisper in your ear. Luckily she doesn’t mention it and just tightens her grip around you and continues until you’ve reached their shared room.

You stare at the door in confusion. “What are we doing here?”

“Did you really think we would leave you alone when you’re drunk and obviously upset about something?” She asks rhetorically. “We want to take care of you.”

You’re glad she’s holding you up otherwise you’re afraid you would have melted to the floor from her words alone. She pushes the door open and leads you inside. Natasha is waiting and hands you a pile of clothes. You recognize the bottoms as Wanda’s favourites and the top as Natasha’s shirt. 

“For me?” You ask, confused. She had handed them to you but maybe she actually wanted to give them to Wanda seeing as it’s their stuff.

“Yes for you silly,” she says smiling, “are you able to change by yourself in the bathroom?” You nod, feeling slightly more sober now.

“Okay just be careful and call if you need us.” Wanda tells you before stepping away from your side. You already miss her warmth but you pretend to be unaffected and head into the bathroom to change. 

It takes longer than usual, in part because you accidentally tried to put both legs in the same hole at first, but you managed to undress and put the pajamas on. They’re soft and smell like a mixture of them and you will deny it if asked but you hold the shirt up to your nose and breathe it in before realizing how weird that is. Walking back out of the room you shift nervously, unsure of what to do with both Natasha and Wanda staring at you intently.

“Come here sweetheart.” Natasha says and you immediately comply, heart pounding at the endearment, sitting down beside her on the bed in between her and Wanda. “Do you want to tell us why you got drunk now?” You shake your head furiously, only stopping when it starts to make you nauseous. 

“No, I don’t really-” You get cut off by your own yawn, suddenly very tired. 

Wanda giggles. “Let’s get you to bed now.”

You start to pout, upset that you have to leave and go back to your room but before you can move she uses her powers to gently float up the bed to the pillows, pulling you with her. Natasha joins you and cuddles you from behind so you’re pinned between them. Your eyes feel so tired but you try to fight sleep, wanting to stay in the moment forever. 

“Goodnight Y/n.” Natasha says and you stop resisting and start to relax. 

“Night Tasha I love you.” You tell her sleepily. “I love you too Wanda.”

“Sleep well Y/n.” Wanda replies, giving you a short kiss on the top of your forehead. You feel so warm and safe between them and it only takes another minute before you’re fast asleep.

---

You try to move but something strong and warm is holding you down. Your eyes fly open and the first thing you see is Wanda’s face, inches from your own. Natasha must be behind you because you can feel her wrapped around you and her small breaths blowing the back of your head. It’s nice but you can’t remember how you got here so you wrack your brains, ignoring your headache. You were sad so instead of watching a movie you started drinking, then they found you and then they took you back here and after that-SHIT. Shit shit shit shit shit you had told them you loved them. 

You aren’t naive enough to believe they think you meant it in a platonic way, you never tell your friends you love them and Natasha and Wanda are both really smart and can easily tell what you’re thinking. You just hope that they don’t tease you about it because you don’t think you could handle anything but being let down gently. 

“What are you thinking about?” Natasha asks from behind you. You hadn’t realized she was awake already but somehow she noticed you are, she’s scary with how much she knows sometimes. As much as you know this conversation will be awkward and painful you know there’s no point in delaying it and it’s best if you have control over it. 

“That I’m sorry.” You tell her. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She says gently, sitting up, understanding what you’re referencing. 

“No I do, I made things weird and I didn’t want to do that.” You say, hating yourself for the lump that forms in your throat. You start to untangle yourself from Wanda, trying hard not to wake her. This conversation is difficult enough with one person, if Wanda wakes up you’ll most definitely start to cry and the last thing you want is for them to feel bad or to pity you. 

“Y/n-” She starts but you interrupt her, not wanting to hear it. 

“I hope we can still be friends.” You say making your way to the door before pausing. “Please tell Wanda I’m sorry and that I need some time to myself for the day but after that I will pretend nothing happened.”

“Y/n, please-” 

This time you cut her off by closing the door. You run to your room. You don’t think she’ll try to follow and catch up with you but you don’t want to take any chances and you certainly don’t want the others to see where you’re coming from and your shame to get deeper. You are stupid, so stupid, you shouldn’t have gotten drunk and you should have kept your stupid mouth shut. Their friendship means everything to you and although Natasha didn’t seem like she would stop being friends with you over it things will definitely be awkward for a long time and you’ve seen friendships crumble because of it. 

Luckily you make it to your room without anybody noticing and you take a few breaths to calm yourself, closing your eyes. It helps for a second but when you open them again you’re looking straight into your mirror and you can see yourself wearing their clothes and immediately feel the tears start to come. You jump onto your bed and bury yourself fully under the covers, trying to stop crying because you don’t deserve to, it was your fault, and crying only makes everything worse, including your headache. 

---

Natasha shakes Wanda awake only to hear her groan and shift, attempting to fall back asleep. 

Rolling her eyes she tries again. “Wanda. Wanda. Wanda wake up.” Wanda moves slightly and lets out incoherent mumbles before waking up more and sitting straight up.

“Where’s Y/n?” She asks alarmed, remembering you were here when she fell asleep.

“That’s why I’m waking you up; she left.” Natasha tells her and Wanda frowns.

“Why?”

“Because we messed up and now she thinks we don’t love her.” Natasha explains. “She thinks that she ruined our friendship by telling us she loved us last night since we didn’t say it back and she left before I had time to correct her.”

“Oh crap.” Wanda says, thinking about how things seemed for you. From your point of view you had drunkenly confessed your feelings to people in a relationship before falling asleep with them not saying it back. 

“Yeah,” Natasha agrees, “I know we weren’t planning on doing the thing until this evening but I think we should do it now, we can’t let her be upset for any longer.” 

“You’re better at talking so you should get her while I set it up.” Wanda says and Natasha nods in agreement.

“Be as quick as possible, we will hopefully be there in ten minutes.” Natasha tells her before giving her a quick peck. Wanda sighs dreamily, imagining what it’s going to be like when she is dating both you and Natasha (provided you say yes of course but Natasha is certain you will and she trusts Natasha). 

Leaving her room Natasha quickly makes her way to yours and knocks on the door. 

“Go away.” You say and she can’t stand how sad and self loathing you sound just from those two small words.

“No,” she replies, “I need to talk to you.”

“Please.” You beg, your voice cracking in desperation. You can’t see her right now, not like this. She doesn’t listen, hating to ignore you but knowing that if she talks to you she can hopefully make it all better.

“Oh Y/n.” She sighs upon opening the door and seeing your lump under the covers. “Sweetheart it’s going to be okay.”

“No it’s not, I fucked up our friendship Nat!” You cry out, still refusing to show your face.

“No baby you didn’t.” She tells you, the endearment accidentally slipping off her tongue in her attempts to comfort you. “Please just give me a minute to explain some things.”

“Okay.” You sniffle, both confused and curious. You hate that you’re even a tiny bit hopeful at her words and you attempt to squash those thoughts down to spare as much of your heart that hasn’t already been hurt. 

“I would love to see your pretty face when I talk to you.” She prompts, gently lifting the edge of the covers. You slowly peek out of them like a turtle, well aware and slightly embarrassed of the fact that you look like you’ve been crying (which you have but it’s still embarrassing).

“There we go, that’s much better.” She tells you smiling. Even though you’re upset you can’t help but crack a wobbly smile back at her, her happiness really is infectious. She stares at your shirt as you pull more of yourself out from under the covers and you flush when you realize that you had never bothered to change and are still wearing her shirt. 

“It looks nice on you.” She says softly, reaching out to touch the hem before clearing her throat and switching into business mode. “I think you got the wrong impression.”

“I know I never should have-” You start to apologize, scared of her shift in mood. 

“That’s exactly what I mean.” She interrupts. “You seem to think that you’ve ruined our friendship by telling out how you feel but I can assure you that’s not the case at all and we are actually both extremely happy about your feelings.”

“Why isn’t Wanda here then.” You ask skeptically. 

“Because she’s in the living room where I’m supposed to bring you.” Natasha replies. “Will you come?”

“I don’t know,” you say nervously, “are you sure that…” you trail off, unsure of what else to say. 

“Y/n,” Natasha says and suddenly you’re all too aware of how close she is to you, “it will be good I promise.” 

As soon as she finishes speaking she leans in and her lips are on yours. It’s better than any of the times you’ve dreamed and it’s the perfect mix between hard and passionate but also soft and sweet.

“Wow.” You breathe when she pulls away after a few seconds, unable to think of anything else. 

She laughs. “Wanda’s going to be jealous that I got to do that before her and as much as I’d love to kiss you again we shouldn’t keep her waiting for too long.”

You nod silently and take Wanda’s hand when she offers it as she stands up and starts to walk out of the room.

“Wait,” you say just before you leave, “maybe I should change first.”

She looks over your (well technically their) clothes. “You are not changing, I like you wearing our stuff.”

You’re surprised to hear the slight possessive growl in her voice but it makes you incredibly happy. The start to this day had to be one of the worst in your life but it’s quickly becoming the best. Feeling as though you’re floating you allow her to pull you through the halls into one of the living rooms, the one you usually use for watching movies.

Wanda is sitting on the couch looking at the door when you come in but what catches your eye is the sheer amount of stuff around her. There are heaps of all your favourite candies and chips all around her and there’s a cute stuffed bear.

“Do you like it?” She asks and instead of answering you let go of Natasha’s hand and throw yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her waist tightly.

“I think that means yes.” Natasha says, laughing at your enthusiastic reaction.

“I love it,” you tell them, “I love-” You stop yourself before you tell them you love them again because even after all this you’re still not sure if that’s what they want to hear. 

“We love you too Y/n.” Wanda says and you sigh in both happiness and relief at her words. “Nat do you want to give her the thing now?”

You pull away from Wanda to look over at Natasha, curious as to what the thing is. Natasha picks up a small red jewelry box from the table that you hadn’t noticed earlier in your excitement and hands it to you. They both watch as you open it, suddenly nervous that you won’t like it.

You open it up to see a necklace with two charms on it and two charms that are identical lying beside it. Upon closer inspection you gasp, recognizing the the letter charms n and w as the same ones Natasha and Wanda wore on their necklaces, reminding them of each other. The charms lying beside it are the first letter of your name, presumably for them to add to their necklace. You feel yourself tear up at how sweet and thoughtful this gesture is. 

Wanda breaks the silence first. “This is what we were doing yesterday and it took all day because they were custom made so we wanted it done by the same person so it would look the same. We thought it would be nice for us to give you this when we officially asked you out so you don’t feel like an outsider or anything because we really like you and want things to go well.”

“What she’s trying to say is will you go out with us.” Natasha says, halting Wanda’s rambling. 

Wanda smiles sheepishly. “What she said.”

You slowly look up, careful not to let any tears fall and launch yourself into their arms, pulling whatever part of them you are holding towards you. 

“I think you already know the answer by now but I would love to.” You say, still trying to get as close to them as possible. They wrap their arms around you tightly and moving together they lift you a few steps to the couch and plop you down, sitting and cuddling on either side of you.

“Today’s movie day and we’ll take you on a proper date tomorrow.” Natasha promises and you hum happily in reply. You don’t care at all about what type of dates you go on or even if you go on them at all because you’re dating the two most amazing women in the world and that’s a high you’re going to be riding for a long time, possibly forever.

---

Taglist: @cherryblossomskye @aaron-despair @thewidowsghost @nyx-aira @stephanieromanoff @stop-drop-and-drumroll @peggycarter-steverogers @casperlikej @redswing​ @mxxnmocha​ @king-star​ 

[fredshufflepuff]

Can you do one about young Sirius Black or young Remus Lupin please? Thank you!😊

why so serious, sirius? || s.b ✧˖*°࿐

summary: sirius is a jerk towards you, showing you how he really feels without shame. what happens when he goes too far?

a/n: i got wayyyy too carried away with this omg.

series partially inspired by @hxlyhead-harpies ‘s congratulations weasley fic <3

warnings: fem!reader, young!sirius, platonic remus!relationship, language, angst, enemies to lovers, part one to a two(three?) part series.

word count: 1,316

“good morning, my loves!” you sang, approaching the gryffindor table with a smile on your cheery face. lily and james returning the gesture as you took a seat next to them.

remus wasn’t up yet, probably still shit faced in his room while everyone else was at breakfast.

sirius on the other hand...

“why’re you always so damn loud?” the dark haired boy growled, his eyes darting to yours as he took a bite of his toast.

“why’re you always so aggressive?” you spat back, your mood immediately souring at his bitter attitude towards you and you only.

“snappy now, are we?”

you ignored his comment and grabbed a plate, not wanting him to ruin your morning. how could sirius have so much anger in him? especially it being so early.

“sirius, mate—leave the poor girl alone” a familiar voice spoke, the groups heads turning to see remus standing behind the boy with a tired grin.

a smile came to your face as you ushered for him to sit next to you, remus accepting as he plopped down next to you—immediately asking you how you slept.

sirius couldn’t help but sink back into his seat, his jaw clenched and eyes darted towards the pair as they talked about upcoming classes.

“mate, you’re staring” james whispered, nudging his stubborn friend in the side as he snapped out of his thoughts.

“i wasn’t staring” he snapped, turning to a skeptical james and a grinning lily. of course the red head girl knew what was really going on, when it came to the bickering pair lily was always there to read what was going on. “what, lily?!”

“you know what” she drawled out, her head titling to y/n as she took a sip from her pumpkin juice, “i’m not blind, sirius.”

“neither am i, i’d never stare at something as repulsive as y/l/n” he spat, his voice loud enough for you to hear. and of course you did, that’s why your heart clenched, but you didn’t give him the reaction he was pushing for.

instead, you continued your conversation with remus like nothing had happened—despite your stomach twisting as the cruel words replayed in the back of your head.

breakfast was over and you said your goodbyes to the group, everyone except sirius. there was a game later versus slytherin and everyone decided to meet up after classes.

“by the court yard, right?” you checked, lily nodding and reminding you that they’d all leave from there.

“great! see you then” you chirped, spinning on your heel and making your way down the corridor.

you heard footsteps approach you from behind, remus coming into view as he threw his arm around you. “didn’t think i wouldn’t walk you to class, did you?”

“i didn’t forget...” you trailed off, remus mumbling a ‘rubbish’ as you giggled at his response.

you’re relationship with remus was nothing but platonic, you’ve known the boy since first year—it would be impossible for you to feel anything other than friendship for him.

and he felt the same way, he saw you as a sister to him; he was your big brother in a way. he protected you from harms way and would hex anyone that talked bad about you—especially sirius. but you and him both knew the boy wouldn’t stop anytime soon with his constant teasing, so you told remus to lay off. you loved him of course for being so caring and thoughtful, but you didn’t want anything to escalate.

“potions with slughorn?” remus asked, completely forgetting what your first class was. you gave a tired sigh as you nodded in response, practically dreading to enter the room.

“have fun with that” he teased, pinching your side before opening the door for you, “i’ll see you at the courtyard.”

“thanks, rem” you smiled, ruffling the boys hair before entering the student filled room. it was loud and noisy, signaling to you that slughorn wasn’t there yet. no one would dare laugh nor talk if that dreadful man was around, he always sucked the life out of everything.

“was wondering when you’d get here” sirius said, watching you with narrow eyes as you took a spot next to him.

it’s not like you wanted to, slughorn assigned sirius to be your partner for the entire year, which also included sitting next to the irritating bastard.

“you were waiting for me?” you teased, your eyebrow cocking as he scoffed in annoyance—mumbling a quiet ‘yeah right.’

“zip it! class has begun!” slughorn announced, cutting your conversation with the boy short as he entered the room. his robe swayed back and forth dramatically as he cleanly yanked up the sleeves, his sharp eyes scanning the pairs of students.

“today we will be brewing amortentia” he drawled, walking around to his desk before crossing his arms, “does anyone know what the amortentia does?”

your hand shot up grabbing his attention, his head nodding for you to go on.

“it’s a powerful love potion sir, amortentia smells different to everyone, according to what attracts them,” you explained, slughorn’s lips turning into a thin line of approval.

“very good, y/l/n. 10 points to y/h.”

you heard sirius scoff from next to you, mumbling a ‘show off’ under his breath—but loud enough for you to hear.

“fuck off” you snapped, voice low so snape couldn’t hear as he rambled on about the potion and how to not mess it up.

you had two hours to perfect the assignment, which could be hard considering how you had sirius as your partner.

“get the cauldron and we can begin” you waved him off, his eyes rolling as he mumbled something ONCE AGAIN—under his breath.

this was going to be a long two hours.

“powdered moonstone, sirius! not moonstone powder!”

“what’s the difference?!”

“crush the pearls into dust.”

“rose thorn, sirius, not just the rose!”

“you bitch too much.”

“just shut up and grab the ashwinder egg.”

“done!” you announced, a tired smile coming to your face as you watched the potion turn into a vibrant pink color.

“is that so, y/l/n? black?” slughorn asked the two of you, his figure looming over your work area as he narrowed his eyes towards the cauldron.

“yes, sir.”

he hummed quietly to himself before ushering you to smell it, tell him what scent it gave off and write it down.

“go first, just in case it blows up” sirius said, your eyes narrowing as you shoved him to the side. you leaned over the cauldron and stared into the pink liquid, a smell of smoke and sugar filling your scent.

“odd” you mumbled, stepping back and grabbing a quill to scribble it down. “well, what did you smell?”

“none of your business, black” you snapped, his eyes darting daggers into you as he bit the inside of his cheek.

“not like i cared anyway, y/l/n” he mimicked, leaning over the cauldron himself and waiting for a smell to emit.

“pressed flowers and rain.”

“pressed flowers? that’s awfully specific” you said, rolling your eyes at his claim. who smells pressed flowers? that’s like you saying ‘dark black smoke,’ way too descriptive.

ridiculous, you thought.

“you can never not be a bitch can you?” he snapped, your stomach twisting as you glared at him.

“cut the chatter! clean up your stations” slughorn barked, the classroom going quiet as you quietly moved to get the cauldron.

man, sirius was a dick.

“amortentia?! what did you smell?” lily asked, eagerly wanting to know who you desired.

you had to desire someone, you couldn’t just be alone forever. but you made it painfully clear that you fancied no one here at hogwarts. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“smoke and sugar” you hummed, your eyes wandering around as you waited for the rest of your group to show up, “odd isn’t it? i mean, who smells like smoke and sug-”

“sirius!”

[akaashisupremacy]

Moments of Courage

Summary: Osamu Miya is a difficult ex to have. When your paths cross endlessly, you try to rebuild your relationship. Will there be second chances? Or just more broken hearts?

HQ Masterlist || Multi-fandom Masterlist || Read it on A03

Osamu Miya  x reader  

“Are you leaving this party because of me?”

Osamu calls you out from the tiny hallway of your friend’s get together. After locking eyes with him, you did your best to subtly scamper towards the door.

“You don’t have to go. I can leave if it’s making you uncomfortable.” he assures.

You shake your head, “You can stay. I’m not having that much fun.”

You begin shuffling through the coat rack to look for yours. You’re desperate for anything to cut the time talking to him, talking about him. The only guaranteed way for this to stop is to leave.

“Are you hiding from me?” he asks almost rhetorically. His brows are gently raised.

“Yeah, obviously,” you retort, “I don’t want to be seen by you or with you.”

Osamu Miya is your ex. After over a year of dating, he decided to end things with you in a small cafe far off his onigiri stall.

“I’m too busy,” he claimed, “You deserve someone who could give you more time.”

You reasoned out that you didn’t mind not spending so much time together. His job was time-consuming. You understood that.

But Osamu was unsettled. You didn’t mind cheering him on from the benches waiting for him to finish up work. You liked seeing Osamu do things he was passionate about. And yet he felt unsettled, because he knew this was the type of work you would not engage in.

Osamu pressed on, “I’m sure you’ll find yourself someone more worldly, more sophisticated in the city. I don’t want to prevent you from meeting someone like that.”

Something dropped at the pit of your stomach. Your mouth was ajar. He’s really trying to break up with you. It’s no secret that you preferred the city and Osamu the countryside, but neither of you seemed to mind. You’d both make the time to visit each other. You made it work.

You remember barely touching your drink. Listening to him talk was like having a ton of bricks dropped on your back. The sunlight pouring in from the glass window suddenly felt prickly.

“I just don’t think we’re a good fit.” he swallowed, unable to look you in the eye, “I think someone from the country, someone simpler and more traditional would be better for me.”

You don’t miss the yearning in his voice, the dreaminess for someone who was clearly not you. He’d always tease that you were a true blue big city girl. You liked the tall buildings, the noise and the fancy department stores. You thought it was a point of endearment, but apparently not.

It’s been almost a year since you last saw him. He looks so unaffected it irks you.

“I broke up with you respectfully. Why are you mad?” he scratches his head.

It takes all your self-control to not slap him across the face.

“Because you hurt me! You’ve hurt me so…so…much.” your voice hitches before you can catch it. This is so humiliating. He’s clearly moved on from you.

Tears start pouring down your face. You quickly hide your eyes behind your coat.

“You’d eventually realize that I’m not right for you.” he murmurs, “We’re too different.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.” you snap, clenching your fists, “So is this is it? To make you feel better you’re going to date a small town girl to solve all your problems.”

“Well, Kita did introduce me to someone lately.” he unironically replies, “She works in her family ryokan (inn) and we work similar hours. I think we’ll understand each other more than we did.”

Your eyes narrow.

“There’s no point staying in a relationship that I can’t make time for. Why can’t you understand that?” he snaps back.

It is one thing to be left for someone else and another for him to dump you just because. Somehow you feel like you lost even if you didn’t even have competition. He simply didn’t want you.

Your face contorts into an angry frown.

You slip on your coat and grab the door. “Man, you are a terrible ex. Do you know how it hurts when you tell me how wrong I was for you?”

When Osamu regains his cool, he tries to reach out to you, “I didn’t mean it that way…I didn’t feel good that I could make time for ‘ya and so I let the relationship go. Because i don’t know…—“

“Well, this is all just theory anyways.” he says, “I haven’t met Kita’s friend yet. We haven’t gone out yet, just the two of us.”

You do a double turn. “What?!?”

“Yeah, we’re working all the time but we haven’t made the time to meet.”

You break into a laugh. He stands stunned and confused.

“You know what? You stay behind. You left the last time. I want to be the one to leave this time.” you sigh, closing the door behind you.

You don’t turn back to see the look on his face.

————————————— Osamu mostly works in the countryside which means that you’d be less likely to run into each other in the city. It’s easier for you to keep your mind off him and focus on your current life.

So when you see him in the corner store in place of a small fried chicken stall you used to frequent, you’re visibly shocked, appalled even.

“What are you doing here?!” you jump back, “What happened to the fried chicken stall that was here?”

Osamu looks left and right, making sure no approaching customers can hear your dialogue.

“I run this stall now. Kawaneshi-san retired. It’s a great location. I’m literally in a crossroad between a shopping district and some schools. The rent isn’t too bad and it’s a very busy location.” he answers in his usual no nonsense tone.

You make a mental list not to pass by here again.

He recognizes the look on your face, “Have I just ruined your usual route for you?”

“I thought you were a country boy.” you avoid answering him.

“Even I need to make a living.” he snorts, carefully arranging umeboshi-flavored onigiri in his display case.

Sure! All of a sudden working in the city becomes important after he breaks up with you!

You roll your eyes and curtly walk away. You got here first. You love this city. You refuse to let some onigiri-making man ruin your everyday route.

The days roll into weeks. You stick to your route and diligently ignore Osamu each time. After a while it stops feeling weird that he’s there. You feel like you’re slowly taking pieces of yourself that he broke.

It feels so good to start to be whole again.

———————————— Your newfound peace with Osamu is interrupted when he calls you out of the blue one evening. He calls to tell you that he’s sick and that he needs help running groceries. The nerve!

“Don’t you have anyone else?” you groan. Hasn’t he made friends with some other shopkeepers?

“I have no one else. There’s only you.” he coughs through his words. He tries to explain that one of his few friends is out on bereavement.

You let it go. He clearly doesn’t have anyone for today.

You find out that Osamu lives in the apartment above his stall. The space is rather small. He shares his home with some of the equipment and supplies from his store.

He must hate it here. Osamu always loved wide open spaces.

You open the fridge to find it totally empty. His sink has a few empty bowls from his earlier rice porridges. You understand his desperation. He had nothing to eat.

Moved by his situation and the little compassion for him that remains in you, you sigh and begin chopping up some vegetables to make a nutritious broth. You add in some mushrooms and root crops. While the soup boils, you prepare rice and some pickles.

The faster he recovers, the less you have to interact with him.

When you bring him a tray of food in his room, he is equal parts surprised and confused.

“You can cook?” he clears his throat.

“No, Osamu.” you roll your eyes, “I eat all my food raw.”

He sits up and sniffs the aroma of your food through his clogged nose. He dips a spoon into the soup to sample his first meal of the day.

“I mean you can cook well, like a proper home cook.” he says, his eyes wide with awe. He quickly takes a few more sips and starts on his rice.

“I’ve never known.” he croaks, turning to you.

“You never asked,” you shrug, “And you like to do the cooking yourself. You probably assumed I can’t cook, because I’m not as passionate about food as you are.”

He quietly eats and looks away to confirm the truth in your statement.

You sigh and take a nearby basin with some towels in it. “I’ll leave after I bring the basin back.”

——————————————- Something changes in your relationship with Osamu after that incident. He starts to greet you when you walk by and sometimes offers you onigiri from his store.

You always insist on paying. He doesn’t always take it.

“You’re here to make a living.” you say as you push money into his hands.

In between these exchanges you start to ask about each other again. How are you doing? Was today busy? Stuff like that.

Slowly and surely, you two were rebuilding your relationship ground up. But it was tough. Neither of you went beyond these interactions. Maybe things are just meant to stay that way.

One late evening, the last customer for the day disappears out of Osamu’s line of sight when he heads into the back to start cleaning up. He’s about to start pulling down the rafters when you suddenly show up at his counter.

His face expresses his surprise.

“If it’s too late, I can just go.” you gesture sheepishly.

He’s always surprised when you come here on your own volition.

“It’s not,” he denies, “I was closing up too early anyways.”

You pick out your usual onigiri flavors and quickly pay up. As soon as you turn your back, Osamu stammers at you.

“I-I’m cooking up some stuff at the back. Do you want to stay and eat? Think of it as a return favor for the other week.” he refers to the episode of his sick day.

You’re caught off guard but you slowly nod your head to agree. You hadn’t had Osamu’s cooking in a while and it was getting quite late. He opens the door for you and you follow him towards the back of his shop.

In a messy plastic table, you see an array of salads and pickles with different kinds of miso soup laid out. You feel almost intrusive, even more than last week.

You set the table. Osamu fetches hot rice.

It feels unnecessary for you to be here especially if he is with someone else. You do your best to keep your mouth shut. This is a friendly return of favor.

Osamu notices how unusually quiet you are. He chats you up about work. He tries his best to be animated and show interest in your latest project. He asks about your coworkers and your work environment. Were you having fun? Do you get to eat on time?

For dessert, he brings out mochi wrapped in leaves.

“It’s made by the girl I was telling you about.” he remarks, while clearing the dishes.

“Oh,” your heart sinks. You get up and leave, feeling humiliated by your naivety. Of course he’s with her. You feel stupid for even hoping.

You’re about to walk out when he comes back in. “Apparently, she’s been secretly in a relationship with another chef in her family inn. They recently got married and are hoping to start a family soon. She sent these down to inform me. I suppose that solves the problem of having to see someone outside of work—”

He sees you standing. Confusion runs through his expression.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Just stretching…” you lie.

You want to shoot yourself in the foot in embarrassment.

When realization dawns on him, Osamu looks crestfallen. Any energy left in his body abandons him. He sighs, resigned.

“It’s ok if you want to go,” he nods, “Or if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

He bites his lip and looks down on his shoes. The room is still and pregnant with silence.

“I really am just stretching. My hip feels wonky from sitting all day.” you insist with some renewed energy. You grab hold of the pot on the table. “Also, can we get some more hot water? Tea would be nice with the mochi and it’s kind of gone cold.”

He offers to make another pot, relief evident on his face.

“I’ll go heat up the water.” he walks to the kettle, “Are you sure you want dessert?”

You sit back down.

“Yeah, I want to stay.” you murmur. For once you don’t go running to the door.

He glances at you, content, a small smile creeping on his face. ——————————————————

Atsumu, Osamu’s twin brother, always finds himself in his brother’s kitchen every time he visits. He doesn’t mind too much though. It gives them something to do when they catch up.

“Samu, you can’t still be moping around your ex!” Atsumu exclaims. He’s washing Osamu’s dishes as his brother prepares for their meal.

“I’m not ready to get back out there.” Osamu waves dismissively.

Atsumu flicks some water his way. “You’re just not open to seeing someone else.”

His words clearly prick Osamu who throws flour into his face. Atsumu dodges right on time and flicks some flour right back.

Some flour grazes Osamu’s sleeve. He sighs and dusts himself.

“It’s tough, because I’m working all the time. This job doesn’t pay too much and it’s not glamorous. Who’d wanna date someone like me?” he murmurs.

“That’s why you gotta date around to find out!” Atsumu emphasizes, “Maybe you’ll even find someone who might help you with your business when you get married.”

Osamu obstinately shakes his head. “It’s not as easy as you think.”

Atsumu dries his hand and carefully observes his brother. He puts his towel down onto the kitchen counter and raises his brow, “Or maybe I should just give you advice on getting back together.’

As if right on cue, Osamu slams his hand down onto the counter, “I hate that we still haven’t gotten back together. This is killing me!”

Atsumu chuckles in satisfaction. He’s hit the nail right on the head.

“Why has nothing happened yet? I’m already in the city!” Osamu continues on, “They can cook too! Did you know that?! I wish we can skip to the part where we can settle down.”

He vigorously gestures in frustration.

“I cannot! I just cannot move on until I know I’ve given everything to make this work and yet every time I see them all I do is offer them food!”

Atsumu places his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “You need to be more strategic about it. Here’s what you need to do…”

———————————————————————————

Osamu takes a deep breath before knocking at your door. He holds a bag of onigiri in one hand and whatever courage he has in another.

One knock, then another. He hasn’t been this nervous in a long while.

When you open the door, his ear picks up on a male voice inside your house. Combined with your expression, he realizes that he’s come at an inconvenient time.

“I brought you something.” he tries to smile despite the sweat pooling, “I made you lunch. I just wanted to make sure you were eating. We don’t have to talk. I just wanted to give this to you.”

He tries to look past your shoulder, attempting to glimpse at your guests.

“Are you seeing someone else by any chance?” he blurts out, “I want to clarify before I make any more free deliveries.”

You frown. “That’s none of your business, Osamu. You should leave.”

Your frankness pierces something within him. He hadn’t expected to be rejected so quickly.

Osamu’s eyes widen and his mouth drops. He quickly gathers himself before he gets disheartened.

“I want you to give me a second chance. You loved me so deeply. Maybe you can find love in me again.” he says quietly.

“I thought I was too much of a city girl for you,” you retort, despite lacking an edge in your voice. You notice his hands tightly clutching the plastic bag.

The noise at the back seems to melt away. It’s like you’re back in that party, standing too close to each other near the coat rack and the door.

“Maybe you’re not.” his shoulders gracefully go up and down.

You shook your head wryly, “Osamu, I haven’t changed. I like my job and the city. I’m not the life and business partner that you’re looking for. I’m just a customer and we should keep it that way.”

“I can stop if you like.” he offers meekly, putting his hands behind his back.

“Yeah, you should. You’ve hurt me so much.” you cover your mouth with your hands while you try not to sob, “There’s nothing to go back to.”

“I’m sorry I ended things the way I did.” he looks away, “Seeing you walk by me every day feels like penitence…“

You close the door before he says anymore.

Osamu gazes longingly at the door. It’s only now that the full weight of losing you sinks in.

—————————————— “How’d it go?” Atsumu calls to check on Osamu.

Osamu sucks in his breath, his palm pressed on his temple. Atsumu braces himself, this doesn’t sound good.

“They had someone else over.” Osamu is seething in frustration and angry tears.

“Calm down. Were they alone? Or was it a friend group?” Atsumu ’s mind races. He sifts through the situation in an attempt to placate his brother.

“Yeah? No? I don’t know.” Osamu snaps, “They told me she didn’t want to talk about it. Your advice sucks!”

Osamu walks most of the way home. When he catches sight of his store, he curses. He had left his damn bike at your apartment complex! The universe is not giving him any breaks today.

He sighs and continues towards his store. He had a friend watch it while he was away. He’ll have to come pick up after he closes the store.

Throughout the rest of the day, he tries to push you out of his mind. By the time he closes the store, he is bursting at the seams with anticipation to make his way back to your apartment.

Before he sets off, he sees your figure wheeling his bike towards him.

“You left your bike.” you breathe out. You fish something out of your pocket and toss him the key to his bike lock, “You left this in your lock too.”

“Every time you see me, I just look dumber and dumber.” he sighs in exasperation.

You can’t help but burst into laughter at his candidness. He perks up a bit. He hasn’t made you laugh in a while. Of course he’d rather have you laugh with him than at him. Still, this was a start right?

"Did Atsumu put you up to this?" you chuckle, handing the bike over.

“Yeah, how did you know?” he asks dumbfounded.

“I just do.” you scoff, “It’s not like you to show up on people’s doors.”

He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, “Sorry about that. It won’t happen again. It was a moment of weakness.”

Your eyes lower, framing the sad expression that sets into your face, “Yeah, it better not. I’ve moved on.”

You turn around to walk away. In a brief moment of courage, he cups his hands around his mouth.

“I’m not ready to move on from you and if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” he calls out.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan @kaizumi @holaaaf @glxar​

Comment or message to be added to the taglist! I’m definitely making a part 2!

[akingdomofswordsandstories]

Tired

azriel (acotar) x reader

warnings: mentions of blood, depression

word count: 1809

Sunlight filtered through the curtains of your room and the sound of birds humming filled the room. Groggily, you opened your eyes, surveying the scene. The left side of your bed was cold and empty. Azriel must have had to head up to Windhaven earlier this morning.

Glancing to the window, you saw it was half way open. Azriel’s small gestures never failed to make you smile. He knew you loved the smell of the breeze and the fresh air. It was refreshing. A moment of peace.But recently, it got harder and harder to smile. You put on a front to alleviate suspicion. The last thing you wanted was the inner circle being worried about your problems while they were dealing with other threats.

Swinging your legs over the bed, you felt the cool breeze against them. You made your way to the bathroom, getting ready for the day. You splashed cold water onto your face to try and wake yourself up. You looked in the mirror and saw a stranger staring back. Your disgust and hatred surfaced as your grip tightened on the edge of the bathroom counter. Why were you feeling this way? You wished you could go back to normal, to the happy carefree person you were months ago. That person was nowhere to be seen and you were stuck like this, stuck in your head and your thoughts.

Azriel must have sensed something was bothering you because he brushed your mind through the bond, sending a questioning thought . You quickly played it off sending your false happiness down the bond. When you usually had your thoughts, you made sure to cut the bond off, but not for too long because Azriel would get worried otherwise.

You kept these thoughts to yourself and didn’t let anyone see them. You felt guilty for feeling like this. You should be happy, not sad. You shouldn’t loathe yourself, you had people who loved you. But your self doubt and hatred never left you alone and you didn’t want to share this burden with Az, who has already been through so much. So you kept it bottled up and to yourself, only ever letting them surface in the dark when there was nobody but you and your demons.

The swift knock on your door pulled you out of your thoughts. You shoved the feelings down and plastered on a smile.

“Come in! The door is unlocked”

“Hey y/n! I just wanted to let you know that Rhys and Feyre planned a dinner party at the House of Wind tonight!” Mor said

“Oh? That sounds quite last minute” you chuckled

“Yeah, something about diplomacy and putting on a strong front? I wasn’t paying too much attention. Anyway, I need a new dress for the occasion and was wondering if you wanted to come with me to the Rainbow later?”

“That sounds so lovely, but I have to run a few errands,” you lied. Your energy had seemed to have left you and you were barely keeping your front up. “You’re gonna look gorgeous in whichever dress you get” you quickly added, giving her a tight lipped smile.

Mor could sense that you weren’t yourself. “Are you feeling ok y/n? You sound a bit- off?”

“Oh yeah of course! I’m just a bit tired. I think I’m going to head down and grab a cup of coffee. You know I love my coffee.” you gave her a slight chuckle.

“Well, if you’re heading down, I’ll just come with you. I need to head out and pick up a few more things for the party anyway.”

You gave her another smile, closing the door to your room as you followed her down the stairs

---------------------------------

Today was one of your bad days. Nothing you did could get your mind off the thoughts that haunted you. Normally, you were able to distract yourself, at least for a few hours, but today you could not evade them. They were the predator and you were their prey.

The inner circle was still in Windhaven. They were probably dealing with Devlon’s excuses as to why the females weren’t training. You knew they would be getting back soon though, since the party was soon.

Making your way back into the kitchen, you pulled out a kettle and filled it with water. Putting it on the stove and letting it boil, you grabbed a tall mug and some of your favorite tea powder. The kettle whistled and you poured the water into your mug. The first sip was comforting, the warmth spreading through your body. You closed your eyes and sighed, basking in the few moments of peace you had.

The wind whistled and you heard a series of thumps on the balcony. Opening your eyes, you saw that Azriel and the others had returned. Anger was painted over his face, but it vanished as soon as he saw you. He made his way over to you, giving you a quick peck on the lips. You breathed in his scent, the wind and the pine giving you a sense of comfort.

“So how did your check up with Devlon go?” you asked

Cassian let out a loud huff before anyone could respond

“Not well, I take it?”

“He keeps giving more chores to the females to keep them out of the training ring. I wanted to break his hand right there.” Azriel answered

“Oh Az, don’t worry, next time Devlon pulls shit like that, I give you and Cassian free reign to do whatever you want with him.” Rhys grinned out

“Oh mother I like the sound of that. God knows he needs to be put in his place.” Cassian sighed

“Devlon aside, are you guys ready for the party?” Feyre asked

“Fuck yeah, I’m in desperate need of booze” Cassian yelled out, causing all of you to laugh

“It sounds like fun, but I haven’t been feeling too well, so I think i’ll just stay home tonight.” you murmured

Azriel immediately put his attention on you. “Are you ok love? Do I need to call Madja?”.

“No no, don’t worry about me, I think I just need a little rest. You go to the party and have fun though. For me.” You knew that was the only way you would get him to go.

He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“Az, darling, i’ll be fine”

He relented. “Fine. But if I sense anything is off, I’m coming home immediately.”

---------------------------------

The other left to the House of Wind and you were finally left alone again. You wrapped yourself up in a blanket and lied down on your bed, drifting off.

A few hours later you woke up. Groaning, you made your way over to the bathroom. Gripping the counter, you stared at yourself in the mirror. You felt angry and disgusted. Your hand curled into a fist and before you could process what you were doing, the mirror shattered. You could feel the cuts on your hand, but the pain was the last thing on your mind.

Dropping your front, your thoughts and feelings flooded back into you. You felt the numbness washing over you as your feelings hounded you, ripping into you. You were so tired. You didn’t want to feel like this anymore. Why did you deserve anything?

Your self deprecating thoughts kept slamming into you.

You weren’t pretty enough. Azriel deserved better. He was only with you out of pity. He didn’t really love you. How could he ever love someone like you.

Finally the dam broke and your tears started flowing. Backing up to the wall, you slowly slid down, hugging your body, your sobs never ending.

---------------------------------

What you hadn’t realized was for a split second, your hold on the bond had faltered, and all your emotions and pain had slammed into Azriel. He almost lost his footing, clutching his heart and holding onto Cassian to keep him from falling over.

“Az? Azriel, what's wrong?” Cassian shouted

“I-, I need to go home. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I just need to check on y/n.”

Cassian didn’t have time to say anything else before Azriel disappeared into the shadows.

---------------------------------

“Y/n? Y/n! Darling, where are you?” Azriel shouted as he got home

Rushing into your shared room, he heard your sobs and made his way to the bathroom. His heart clenched when he saw you. He immediately crouched down next to you, gently picking up your body and leaning it against his.

“A- Az?” You hiccuped out, tears blurring your vision “Wha- What are you doing here? I thought I closed the bond”. Another sob left your body.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered into your hair, afraid you might break if his voice was any louder. “I could’ve helped you through this.”. One of his hands was wrapped around your bloodied one and the other one was gently rubbing your back.

“Why?” You spoke so softly that Azriel thought he imagined it.

“You deserve-” You took a deep breath to try and slow your tears, “You deserve so much more than me. Someone better than me. I’m nothing- I’m worthless. I’m not pretty enough or graceful enough. You should be with someone like Elain or Gwyn. Someone who is worthy of you. Someone who deserves your love”.

“That’s not your choice to make darling. I get to choose who I love, and I love you”

“I’m not worthy of your love” you whispered. “You shouldn’t be with someone like me. You shouldn’t have to deal with all my problems and insecurities. You should be with someone who doesn’t hate everything about themselves. You already deal with so much, you shouldn’t have this burden on you too.”. Tears burned the back of your throat.

“I’m no stranger to self-deprecation” Azriel laughed soundlessly “You’ve helped me through so many low points, it’s only fair i help you through yours. It’s what mates do. It what i’ll do, because I love you.”

“You shouldn’t” you cracked out

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” he whispered into your hair, pulling you closer to his chest. “Don’t shut me out. Please.”

At the sound of those words, you opened the bond and let Azriel see everything. You bore your soul to him and laid everything bare. You sobbed harder into his chest as he held you, sitting in the silence.

After you started feeling a bit better, Azriel lifted you up and placed you on the counter so he could clean your hand and wrap it in gauze. He quickly got changed and led the two of you to your bed.

“Did- Did you mean it?” you whispered out,

“Every word my love. Every single word.”

Pulling you close, he whispered sweet nothings till you drifted off.

[whisperlullaby]

Stuffed Full

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (AU)

Warnings: SMUT (18+ ONLY), breeding kink, language, adult themes, and a TON of really bad baking puns. 

Words: 1162

Summary: Bucky finds his calling after his last tour, baking. It brings him to you and he can’t wait to start a family.

A/N: I cannot believe it is my wonderful cousin @buckyownsmylife’s birthday! This is a fic for her birthday challenge featuring breeding kink. I loved writing this it was SO MUCH FUN. I hope you love this my sweet cousin it is all for you! Please if you are under 18 do not read this fic. Thank you to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog and @river-soul​ for their beta work I appreciate you so much!

After Bucky got back from his last tour he was lost. Transitioning back to civilian life was harder than he thought and the trauma he endured followed him around like a shadow. Late one night, when the nightmares woke him up, he found himself pacing in the kitchen. Bucky pulled out his phone and started searching for ways to calm down. After passing several articles on meditation and mindfulness, he found a chocolate chip cookie recipe that was ‘perfect for a bad day.’ Pulling out the ingredients he started attentively following the directions. He felt such relief as he cracked the eggs and mixed the flour, creating some sad-looking cookies. After he took out the final batch he physically felt calmer.

He brought them to Steve to try and despite their unappetizing appearance, they were delicious. Bucky knew he had found a way to reintegrate back into civilian life with his baking. He spent months collecting recipes and testing out new ones, getting a little bit better each time he made something. His friend, Sam, even helped him set up an online store where people could order his various creations. That’s how he met you. You had placed an order for a birthday cake. He delivered the cake and when you opened the door his heart stopped. He almost dropped it right on the floor when you reached out to take the box from him, your fingers brushing over his.

“Thanks, nothing says happy birthday like eating an entire cake by yourself with a bottle of wine,” you chuckled humorlessly.

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched together. “You’re spending your birthday alone?”

You looked up at him with sad eyes. “I sure am but I have the best cake in town! Anyway, I’m sorry to keep you. You probably have a lot of deliveries to make.”

“You were actually my last stop.” Bucky took in a deep breath. “If you’re interested, I could take you out for your birthday? Get you some dinner before you eat the cake?”

Your mouth dropped open before it turned into a shy smile. “Um, sure why not. Can you give me a half-hour? I need to change.”

Bucky noticed for the first time that you were wearing pajamas and raked his hand over his face.

“Of course doll, I’ll wait out here.”

All it took was that one date for Bucky to fall head over heels for you. The way you laughed sent fireworks through his body, and all those cheesy jokes you told? He could listen to them for hours, especially if you kept doing that thing with your nose when you told them. Bucky could physically feel his heart skipping a beat each time you looked at him with those beautiful eyes. He spent months wooing you until you finally decided to move in with him. He figured it was because he kept you well supplied in various baked goods, but he knew you loved him just as much as he loved you.

You came home early one day and caught Bucky in the kitchen testing out new recipes. The mixture of smells was enough to make your stomach rumble.

“Hey love, what are you making?”

Bucky turned around and greeted you with a brilliant smile. “Hey doll just trying out a new cinnamon roll recipe, brownies are cooling, and I’m washing some jalapenos for some jalapeno cornbread.”

You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s waist. “I’d like to get jalapeno pants.”

Bucky let out a loud laugh, he loved all of your corny jokes. “Sweetheart, are you this cream cheese frosting? Cause you’re on a cinnamon roll!”

You scoffed at the pun. “Bucky, my love, maybe stick to the baked goods and leave the puns to me.”

He turned around and pulled you in for a sweet kiss. “Baby I really knead you right now.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed a handful of Bucky’s ass. “I just wanna take a bite out of your sweet buns.”

Bucky chuckled as he bent down to kiss you more passionately this time. Slowly he moved you back until you were pressed against the counter. His hands moved to the hem of your skirt pulling it up until it was bunched at your waist. He broke the kiss to spin you around and press you flat against the counter, the cool marble creating goosebumps on your skin. Bucky kneeled down, pulling your underwear down as he went. He brought his fingers to your clit, working slow circles over the bundle of nerves. Bucky laved his tongue over your core.

“Doll, you’re just like butter, I want you on everything.”

You laughed before Bucky continued his ministrations causing you to moan. “I always did say you were amazing in the kitchen.”

The vibration of Bucky’s low chuckle went straight to your core. He worked two fingers into you hitting your sweet spot with precision. Soon your orgasm washed through you and Bucky rose to pepper kisses on the back of your neck.

“Now sweetheart, let me get my sweet cream inside this creampuff.”

You burst out laughing as Bucky lined himself up. When he pushed in your laughs turned into a wanton moan. He placed a steadying hand in between your shoulders as his other grabbed your hips, setting a bruising pace. You could feel your orgasm building up again as Bucky’s thrusts got sloppier.

“I’m gonna put a bun in this oven,” he grunted. “Keep you full and round. Gonna look so beautiful walking around here growing my baby.”

“Buck, I’m gonna cum, fill me up. Wanna feel you cum inside me,” you mewled.

Your walls were milking Bucky’s cock as you came and after a few deep thrusts, he followed painting your walls with his spend. After a few minutes and sweet kisses he pulled out and helped clean you up.

“So, you want a baby?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and he blushed.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I want a family with you.” He gently ran his fingers across your cheek as you hummed in satisfaction.

You took in a deep breath and crinkled your eyebrows. “Bucky, did you put something in the oven?”

He gave a shy smirk, “Doll I thought that was obvious-”

You cut him off. “No Bucky, something's burning did you forget you put something in the oven?”

His eyes shot open as he ran to the stove and when he opened it puffs of black smoke billowed out. You doubled over laughing as he tossed the whole pan in the sink.

“Well, guess I know that leaving cinnamon rolls in the oven for that long burns them. Good to know.”

You placed a gentle kiss on Bucky’s cheek. “I can’t wait to start a family with you, but maybe we work on your attention to detail.”

Bucky gave a short laugh, “Our kids are gonna have one amazing mom that’s for sure.”

You grinned. “You butter believe it.”