#galaxy brained reader right here

[odoraful]

𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

brushing up on physical intimacy might be hard for an adeptus like xiao. however, he's willing to put in the effort for a romantic like you.

⟡ content: xiao x gn!reader; sfw; fluff; xiao is ALWAYS serious about wanting to learn more about you :') ; 1.5k words

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You froze in shock hearing what Xiao had just asked.

“Do you want to kiss?”

The words reverberated in your head. Did you need to schedule a visit with Baizhu to have your ears checked? Or did your serious-minded adeptus actually initiate wanting to kiss you? If it was any consolation, Xiao seemed an equal measure flustered by his own request.

You had just begun to unwind for the night at Wangshu Inn—Xiao pouring out tea, and you folding laundry to be put away—when he spouted the question.

Seeing your wide eyes barely blink, Xiao blurted out, “You kept talking about the opera we watched”—he cleared his throat—“and about how romantic the kiss was.”

You flushed.

The romanticist in you couldn’t help it though. At Liyue Harbour, the Yun-Han Opera Troupe had just performed a story of forbidden romance. It was a tale of two lovers who had been banished to opposite sides of the night sky. For only a single day out of a year, birds would form a bridge to help them reunite. And when they met, they shared a passionate kiss beneath the heavenly skies dotted by milky stars and galaxies. You had almost been moved to tears. Believing that Xiao was unaffected by such things, you freely chattered about it the way back to Wangshu Inn after the performance. Gushing endlessly about the magic of it all.

“It was! But, that doesn’t mean that I want to”—

You sucked in a breath, cutting yourself off.

Well, you didn’t not want to kiss Xiao. You just weren’t prepared at all for this.

“It’s just that you said it so suddenly!” you said, shaking out a blouse that matched the shade of pink that spread across your cheeks.

Affection came in many forms between the two of you—heartfelt conversations on moonlit nights, swims in Yaoguang Shoal when the weather warmed up, exchanging trinkets from one’s adventures—but neither of you had engaged in anything physical. It seemed like an invisible line not to be crossed. Shoulders side-by-side, but never touching. Hands brushing, but never holding.

You stored your small pile of clothes away, staring aimlessly into the open drawer trying to figure out a reply. He sounded so genuine in his offer, how could you turn it down? Resolute, you shut the drawer and swung around.

Betrayed by his tendency to blush easily, Xiao fought to keep a calm expression on his face. He rested his elbow on the arm rest of the wooden sofa, hand covering his mouth. His words came out muffled.

“Forget I said anything.”

No, no, don’t backtrack! you thought.

You needed to salvage this situation. Though, your mind drew a blank. Quickly, your dug around your memories and all the romantic stories you’ve read, featuring love interests timid, bold and everything in between. What was the perfect move to woo someone the fastest? A move that would be impossible to refuse?

You crossed the floor of the room with an unfaltering gait. Xiao’s eyes followed your movement, curious as to your intent.

With little hesitation, you sat on his lap.

Every hair on Xiao’s body raised. His heartrate thundered in his ears, faster than in any fight he had been in. The curve of your body against his thighs was a foreign, yet oddly comforting, sensation.

“W-what are you doing?!” he spluttered, flabbergasted.

Your boyfriend was in the most embarrassed state you had ever seen, his face as red as a jueyun chili.

“You asked if I wanted to kiss, right?” you confirmed, trying to keep your voice even. “Well, here’s my answer to that.”

A fuse short circuited in Xiao’s brain.

He didn’t even know where to look. At your eyes? No, they held too much bated anticipation. At your lips? Certainly not. Even staring down into his lap meant acknowledging the vulnerable position you two were in.

He couldn’t do this. He definitely couldn’t do this. Why had he even asked you in the first place? Because he could somehow act like a prince charming? Hold the back of your neck and sweep you off your feet with an expert kiss? However, beneath his panic, the temptation he felt was undeniable. Yet, time and time again, his desires were drowned out by the alarms blaring in his mind.

You laid your hands on his shoulders. The air around him sweetened, the perfume on your wrists enhanced by your closeness.

As you drew nearer to him, he was forced to look up at you. The panic stilled. All he could focus on was you. The steadiness of your breathing, and the tensing of your legs. Every little texture on your face, and each blink of your eyes.

Xiao wanted to try. Try to fulfil those romantic fantasies you spoke so fondly about. Maybe, just maybe, he could make you just as giddy and lovestruck.

The unexpected passion in his gaze was too overwhelming for you. Unable to hold eye contact with him anymore, you turned you head to the side,

Xiao knew to strike when enemies left an opening in their defences. Whilst you were the farthest from an opponent to him, it was those same instincts that pushed him to move after the perfect opportunity you gave.

Your mouth parted with surprise at his lips pressed against your cheek. Though it only lasted seconds, the softness of his kiss lingered behind, your skin tingling with elation. Outside, past the balcony of your room, the stars seemed to twinkle a magnitude brighter before he pulled away. You turned back to him, an incredulous smile plastered on your face, practically beaming.

“I-I know it wasn’t like how it was in the opera…” Xiao’s voice trailed off, hands fiddling at the fabric of the cushion beneath him.

You shook your head in strong disagreement. “I thought it was even better than the opera.”

Interlocking your fingers behind his neck, your voice filled with mirth, “I should tell Yun Jin about it so she can incorporate it into her next performance.”

“Do not tell her.”

“I’m joking! Well, only about the telling Yun Jin part that is.”

Up close, he could see exactly the way your eyes creased and your lips curved when you laughed. Had he done that? Been the one to provoke such cheeriness for you? The previous fears he had subsided, and it boldened him to ask you a question.

“Why is it—” his voice grew small—“you never ask me to do things like this with you?”

His sincerity both gladdened you, and twinged you with guilt.

“To be honest, I always assumed that you didn’t like to do these sorts of things,” you admitted, downcast.

“It is hard for me due to my… inexperience,” his face scrunched up slightly as he paused. An endearing habit of his when he let his thoughts collect itself before replying, “but if it’s for you, I’m willing to try.”

Hesitatingly, he brought a hand up to cradle of your face. His touch was feather-like, leaving a gap of mere millimetres against your skin.

“Just… don’t move so fast.”

Xiao examined your reaction, hoping that his words made sense.

“I understand,” you reassured, “I want us both to feel comfortable too, so we can take things slowly.”

Comfortable… Once again, he was conscious of your position.

He coughed, a slight awkwardness to his tone as he spoke.

“Then, does ‘taking things slowly’ involve sitting in my lap?”

“Ah!”

You almost jumped out of your skin realising the position you had put him in.

“I’m so sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking. It was just something I’ve seen happen so many times in the light novels I read, and I thought I’d try to do one on you.” You were rambling at this point, spouting anything out of your system.

Hurriedly, you got up, brushing the sweat from your palms on the fabric of your pants. You sat beside him on the sofa, willing the heat away from your cheeks.

“I-I didn’t dislike it,” he said, gently. “I would prefer if you asked next time so I’m prepared.”

You nodded. The corners of Xiao’s lips twitched at your sulk. He knew well enough he should change the subject to dispel the embarrassment radiating off you.

“You spoke of light novels? What are they?”

“They’re a type of literature from Inazuma.” As you continued, your composure renewed itself. “Wanwen Bookhouse has been supplying lots of new genres recently, specifically romance,” you added, somewhat sheepishly.

He hummed with interest. “Could you… share them with me?”

“You want to read some?” You brightened at his curiosity. “But, why?”

Xiao’s expression fell into seriousness, as if calculating a decisive move in a battle.

“I want to understand your likes more.”

His words landed a direct hit to your heart, causing it to flutter. It was a different feeling to when you read your novels. It was far more intense, and infinitely more meaningful.

He smiled softly.

“These stories will be good study for me.”

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[killerlookz]

Olive Green Couch | Spencer Reid

description: when your best friend drags you to a party to meet a boy she's been fawning over, you find yourself completely bored and unimpressed- good thing you've stumbled upon a strikingly handsome (yet awkward) young graduate student named Spencer who seems equally as unhappy to be there to share your misery with.

pairing: grad school! spencer reid x f! reader

content: uhh mostly fluff, drinking, reader is described as wearing a mini skirt and wearing high heels.

word count: 4,242

If I have to hear one more Weezer song I'm going to be sick. You think as the slow drums of Undone pour out over an all too expensive speaker system for a frat house.

The MIT frats were nothing like you experienced before, they were- for lack of a better term- a complete and utter sausage party. You can't remember the last time you'd seen this many men in a single room. If you weren't so bored maybe you would appreciate this as a reprieve from the usual maintaining "ratio" of the state school frat parties you'd been to. But even now you'd prefer that if it meant you wouldn't have to deal with another sloppily drunk man explaining the plot of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy to you. Rich, pretentious, too smart for his own good MIT frat guy or dude-bro, alpha male, business major state school frat guy- it didn't matter; they were the same side of the same misogynistic coin.

You look down at the shot-glass sized solo cup in your hand, staring at the clear liquid inside. Maybe just one more shot and you'd finally start to enjoy the state you were in. You hoped maybe six shots would be the perfect number of drunk to enjoy yourself. You screw your eyes shut and throw back your head as you lift the cup to your mouth. The cheap vodka burns the second it touches your tongue, and you wince as you feel it travel down your throat and to your stomach. Your body shivers involuntarily as the warmth in your belly grows.

You face forward again, looking across the living room for your best friend- the one who dragged you here in the first place. You had suggested bar hopping or trying to get into a club, you didn't buy her a fake ID for no reason. But she insisted on coming here instead. Here- to this sweaty house filled with... well... dorks. She came here looking for some guy- Michael... Matthew... Miles.... shit, you couldn't remember. It didn't matter, you were here now, and she had ditched you to fend for yourself.

You take a step forward and all the alcohol you had drank prior seems to hit you a once, "Woah" You can't help but say out-loud as you catch your balance and wait for the room to stop spinning.

You take a few more wobbly steps forward before acclimating to your new, tipsy state. You make your way through the dimly lit house, trying to find your friend amongst the crowd and rowdy conversations. Observing the bodies that populated the house you suddenly felt insecure, and insanely overdressed- why was everyone wearing jeans and a t-shirt? Maybe a mini skirt was the wrong choice for tonight.

You make your way to a back room of the house, occupied by maybe only 10 people by your inebriated brain's estimate. There's an ugly looking olive green couch in the middle of the room- it' had obviously been through a lot but and you hated to imagine what had happened on that couch over the years, but right now it looked like the most comfortable thing in the world. You walk over and plop yourself over onto the couch, the cushions having a lot less give than you expected.

The beginning riff of Someday by The Strokes plays just outside of the room, and you groan- turning to the guy who you had just realized was sitting next to you.

"Do you know who's Dj-ing this fucking thing- can you tell them to play some Britney or something?" The words fall off your tongue, sloppily.

The boy sitting next to you turns to look at you, a confused look drawn upon his face, "Huh- me?"

Shit. He's kind of cute- In a dorky sort of way. His brown hair is perfectly unkempt, and small curls form at the back of his neck. His jawline is sharp, and his hollow cheeks accentuate his prominent cheek bones. His eyes are dark, and he looks a like he hasn't slept in years- you figured with the workload MIT students probably have- it would make sense if he actually hadn't slept since getting there. Truth be told, all things combined he looked a little sickly- he was obviously lanky maybe scrawny was a better word- his button up shirt seemed a little ill-fitted for his body, and his tie poorly tied. Still- you couldn't help but notice he was hot. The first hot guy you'd seen all night.

"Yes, you, pretty boy." You smirk.

His face reads as even more confused upon your clarification.

"Oh um," He looks down at the half-drunken beer that sits between his legs, shakes his head before looking back up at you, "I-uh I don't know the DJ, and I- um, also don't know who Britney is." He responds, a small nervous tremble in his voice.

"Spears?" You let out a small laugh, "You know like- Hit Me Baby One More Time." You half sing.

"Oh-" He looks off to the side, "No" he faces you again.

"Go figure," You scoff, still, keeping a smile on your face. "Say- are you in this frat?"

He shakes his head, "Oh- no, I'm a grad student."

"A grad student?" You respond, your eyes widen in shock no shot the man you were looking at right now was any older than you. "How old are you?"

"21" He responds, almost nonchalantly- like it wasn't some insane feat. "Well," He clarifies, "I'm actually in my third graduate program, I already have a PhD in mathematics and chemistry, from Cal Tech. I'm working on my engineering one now."

"Jesus," You smile, "So what, you're like some sort of genius, huh?"

"Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified- but I do have an IQ of 187, and an eidetic memory, and can read twenty thousand words per-minute."

You stare at him in awe for a moment, "So, a you are a genius?"

He gives you a small smile in response, "Yeah- I guess." He nods.

You're suddenly intrigued, only twenty-one years old and already a doctor twice over.

"So what brings you here Doctor...uh..."

"Reid," He nods and presses his lips into a line. "Oh! But, don't call me doctor you can call me Spencer."

"Well then, what brings you here, Spencer?" You correct yourself with a smile.

"My friend- uh he wanted me to come with him, he's meeting some girl here and he didn't want to go alone. I kind of got dragged along."

"Well," You grin, "It must be fate that we're here together on this ugly green couch, because if you could believe it- I'm here for the exact same reason except my friend- she's uh, meeting a guy here."

Spencer takes a small sip of the beer he had been holding, wincing as the liquid touched his lips. You figured he probably wasn't much of a drinker, he probably had things much more important on his plate than getting drunk and partying.

"Not much of a partier?" You ask to confirm your suspicions.

"Mhh," Spencer hums, mouth still full of beer, he shuts his eyes tight as he swallows thickly. "No." He shakes his head violently. "What gave it away?"

"Oh!" You bite your lip... "Nothing!" You say, innocently, voice steeped in sarcasm.

"It's okay," He laughs, "I know I look like a dork."

His laugh is infectious, and you can't help but smile in response. And Damn- he's really cute.

"Oh! Don't say that," You swat your hand at him, "I'm sure you get tons of ladies."

Spencer tilts his head to one side, in obvious disbelief of what you just said,

"I don't really appreciate the sarcasm," He says, his eyes narrowing at you.

"Sarcasm?" You pout, "No- I mean it Spencer, what you're like a genius. And I mean- you're not bad to look at," You bite your lip, "Not at all."

Spencer shook his head, "I was a child prodigy in a Las Vegas public school, and until now, I've always been way younger than everyone in college- my experience with girls is practically in the negatives."

"Oooh!" You smirk, "Vegas," You raise an eyebrow.

"Mhm," He takes another sip of his beer, his face more relaxed this time.

"You think I'd make a good showgirl?" You wink

"Oh- um," Spencer is suddenly blinking rapidly as his head scans you up and down. You can't help but feel a little bad at the way you have him flustered,

"I'm kidding! You don't have to answer that." You reassure. "Negative experience with girls, hm?"

"Yeah- I-uh, I haven't even had my first kiss yet." He says, looking down at his lap, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"No?" You say, still shocked, even given his prior explanations of his experiences with women, "Well..." You start, pausing for a moment, "If you ever want that to change let me know." Maybe that last part was meant to be a joke, but truth is you kind of really hoped he said yes, right there, right now.

"What?" He looks back up at you, eyebrows furrowed, "No- I don't need a pity kiss. I don't even know who you are."

"It is not a pity kiss, and I'm y/n, I go to UMASS, the Boston campus- like 15 minutes away. I'm 20, and uhhh... Well, the rest you can find out later." You wink, "Now you know me!" You smile, perking up from your spot on the couch.

"Well- uh. Nice to meet you y/n" He gives you an awkward tight lipped smile. "Are you- um- enjoying your night."

"God no," You scoff. "Does that make two of us?"

Spencer nods, side moving his eyes to look around the room. It had gotten significantly more crowded since you'd came in here, you hadn't noticed, you'd been too focused on getting to know Spencer that you kind of forgot you were at a party to begin with. It didn't seem to matter now anyway, you were intrigued beyond belief and wanted to know more about Dr. Reid.

"So, why'd you leave Caltech? The weather is certainly a lot nicer than it is here," Your body physically recoils at the thought of having to go back outside to the brisk New England fall after the party was over.

Spencer shrugged, "You can only get so many degrees at one place before you need a change of scenery. I've been at CalTech since I was like- fourteen."

"Fourteen?" Your eyes widen, thinking about what you were like at fourteen. You certainly weren't CalTech material, that's for sure. "When did you graduate high school?"

"1993," He smiles and nods, "Twelve years old"

Spencer had a charming humility about him, he was the smartest person you'd ever met but he spoke in a way that made it feel like it was every day that someone could graduate high school at 12 and have two PhDs by 21.

"What do you plan on doing after college with that pretty head of yours?" You ask, your slightly intoxicated brain unable to stop you from instinctively reaching out and fluffing his hair. Spencer's eyes flick up towards your hand and he gives you an awkward smile paired with a small laugh.

"Well- I uhh... I've been in contact with this guy- well from the FBI, the BAU... Behavioral Analysis Unit. We came into contact after my second dissertation, he was shocked at how young I was, having done so much- he suggested I come to the academy when I was done with this one." Spencer explained, he talked in a way that made him seem unsure of himself, like he, himself didn't fully understand how it happened.

"God," You muse, "The fucking FBI? Could you get any cooler?"

"You know," Spencer remarks, "I think that's the first time anyone has ever used to word "cool" to describe me." The tone in his voice is light, it's clear he's happy about that fact, but you can't help but feel your heart break at the statement.

"Cool even sounds like a little bit of an understatement to me. But you know... I think I'm a little too intoxicated right now to think of a synonym, so cool it is!"

"Do you have any plans for after college?" Spencer asks, nervously running a finger around the rim of the glass in his lap.

"Nothing as cool as the FBI," You shrug, "Actually, nothing concrete, really. Has me feeling a little inadequate in a room full of geniuses."

"Oh trust me," Spencer scans his head around the room, "Not all of these guys are geniuses."

"Well- they're complete nerds at the very least." You giggle.

"I think I qualify as a nerd too." Spencer smiles back.

"Oh you definitely do," You say, scooting closer to him, taking the beer glass out of his hand, "But you haven't tried to talk down to me about some movie everyone's seen, or some album everyone's heard like I'm some dumb idiot bimbo yet." You huff, finishing what was left of the liquid in the glass with a single gulp. You slam the cup down on the coffee table in front of you, "And even if I was a dumb idiot bimbo- what makes them think I'd care about whatever they'd have to say about OK Computer. We've all listened to Karma Police, big deal!" You realize you're getting a little heated over this and cut yourself off, "Anyways," You smile, "What I mean is you don't seem like some self important loser."

"Oh," Spencer furrows his eyebrows, "Thank...you?"

"Do you want to get out of here?"

"Y-Yeah, Yeah we can go." Spencer nods.

You stand up from the couch, wobbling a little bit as your legs lift you up. The room, is blurry, for a moment all you can see are vague blobs of color instead of people. You shut your eyes tight, blinking them open to fix your blurry vision. You glance over toward Spencer, who's grabbing a tan suit jacket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He slinks the jacket on over his thin frame.

"You alright?" He asks, concern in his eyes. He must have been able to read the drunk all over your face.

"Y-Yeah I'm fine, lets go," You nod, reassuringly. You could handle your liquor, besides you hadn't drank that much tonight.

The two of you head for the door, wherever it is. Spencer was leading the way, and you hoped he had a better sense of direction than you did. The music is suddenly a lot louder as you exit the room you were in, and you suddenly feel a lot drunker. The sudden change in feeling causes you to stumble a little, bumping Spencer in the back. High heels and alcohol were never a good mix.

"Oh- hey," Spencer stops suddenly, turning around to smile at you, "Are you sure you're alright?"

You look around the room, at the hoard of people, the room thick with a combination of weed and cigarette smoke. You've never felt so lost in your life when did it get so crowded in here? The obnoxious yelling of frat guys mixed with the music turned to a volume you were sure would get the cops to show up is absolutely ear-splitting.

"Can you hold my hand?" You ask Spencer, needing his guidance more than you realized.

"Uh, yeah, yeah." He nods. You reach your hand out for Spencer to grab, and it takes him a few times to correctly slot his fingers between yours. You smile a little, watching him try to figure out the perfect hand-holding position. He couldn't be more pathetic if he tried- it was kind of adorable.

Spencer's hand is warm, a little sweaty against your palm. But his grip is tight and reassuring as the two of you walk the rest of the way out of the house.

As soon as the front door opens a brisk wind hits you, nipping at your exposed flesh. Goosebumps already dot up and down your skin, the only warmth you feel is Spencer's hand wrapped around yours, and you knew that warm sensation would end as soon as his hand got cold too.

With a little hesitance, you step outside to brave the cold. Your heels click as you carefully make your way down the concrete steps in front of the house. You stare down at your feat as you make each movement, fearing accidentally rolling your ankle or falling. You'd probably take end up Spencer down with you.

"Hmm," Spencer hums, noticing your trepidation, "Here," Spencer untwines his hand from yours and places an arm around your back, reaching to your other side, but barely touches your other arm, just holds firm enough for you not to fall.

You reach the bottom of the stairs, thankful for Spencer's help,

"You don't have to hold me so far away you know, you can pull me a little closer." You turn your head to look at him, "I mean it is kind of chilly out."

"Oh-uh," Spencer's arm pulls to hold you just a little bit closer, "Better?" His grip is still pretty weak around you, and you sigh.

"You know, Spence, I'm still pretty cold." You frown, staring down the suit jacket he was wearing.

"Do you want to go back inside? I didn't even have a full beer the entire time I was there- I can go get my car real quick and drive you home if you want. It's only a block or so away." Spencer responds, his voice quick, and nervous- it was obvious he was eager to solve the problem of you being so cold.

"No," You laugh, shaking your head, "I'm cold is kind of girl-code for, you should give me your jacket."

"Oh!" Spencer laughs, "Oh- I'm sorry, yeah- here, here have it." Spencer speaks earnestly as he slips the jacket off of his shoulders. He shivers as the loss of the fabric leaves him in only a thin button up and you can't help but feel a little bad for asking him to give it to you. But he hands you the jacket with a smile on his face, which lingers even after you put it on. It provides a marginal amount more of warmth than what you felt prior.

"Better?" Spencer asks.

"Mhm," You nod, "Thank you."

Spencer only gives you a tight lipped smile and a nod in response.

"So," Spencer starts as the two of you begin walking, his hand slipping into yours almost instinctually, it catches you a little off guard, and you feel your cheeks run hot at the gesture. "Where are you headed?"

"Oh- uh, back to Boston I guess," You squint your eyes, thinking, "I usually take the bus, the stop is up that way." You point up ahead in front of you.

"Let me go with you," Spencer says quickly, "I mean- not to your place, but let me ride the bus with you, I don't want you going by yourself."

"Why not? I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." You retort, trying to hide the fact that secretly, butterflies are growing in your stomach at his eagerness to take care of you.

"I just want to make sure you get home okay." His hand grips yours tighter.

"Okay," A small smile draws at your lips, you don't want to fight him on it anymore, truth was you'd love nothing more than to spend a little bit more time with him, even if it was a short bus ride.

The streets of the city are utterly dead, not a sound to be heard except the whistling of the wind and collision of your high heels and the pavement. You wonder what time it even is, how long had you even spent at that stupid party?

The bus is just as empty as the rest of the city. When it arrives, nobody but you and Spencer are on, the two of you sitting patiently under the bright fluorescent lights for the bus to move. The lights are straining on your eyes, and the horrendously carpet-patterned seats might hurt your eyes even worse.

"What stop do you get off at?" Spencer asks, being the one sitting the closest to the button to let the driver know when it's your stop.

"University Drive."

The lights dim as the bus driver pulls away from the stop you'd been picked up at, and you're able to relax your eyes once more. You let your eyes relax until all of a sudden they're closed and then-

"Hey," You feel your head being jerked, "We're here."

"Hmm?" You grumble, slowly opening your eyes.

Your stomach drops, and you're absolutely mortified to see your head is rested on Spencer's shoulder. You whip your head off from where it laid and quickly stand up from the seat.

The bus ride was fifteen minutes, you couldn't believe you fell asleep. Much less fell asleep on some guy you barely knew. You're a mess of worry as you exit the bus, thinking about how awkward you probably made Spencer feel. You're so caught up in your thoughts you barely notice how cold it is as you step outside.

"Hey, look, I'm right over there." You say, pointing to the large dorm building behind you.

"I'll walk you to the door." He smiles, and your panic immediately slides away.

You walk with your head down, looking intently at the sidewalk under you as you head forward to your building, trying your best to keep in a straight line. You had to admit, you were pretty upset your time with Spencer would be ending in just a few short minutes from now. You tried to scheme up a plan to get Spencer to stay longer, but no ideas would stick to your brain. You sigh, crossing your arms across your chest as you approach the front door.

You whip around to look at Spencer who's trailing just a few inches behind you.

"Well," You sigh, "I guess this is it." You pull your mouth to one side in a small pout.

"Yeah- I-uh, I guess so," He shrugs, "I had a nice time tonight, thanks for, making my first party experience a lot better than i was expecting." Spencer's hands are shoved into his pocket, and he rocks back and forth while he talks, unsure of himself as his eyes dart all around you.

"Of course," You grin, letting your hands drop down at your sides, "Say," You cut yourself off, and shove your hands into the pocket of Spencer's coat, fishing, until you find what you were hoping for. You pull out a pen from one of the coat pockets, and grab Spencer's hand. "I want to see you again before you become some big tough FBI agent." You smile, scrawling the digits of your phone number on the back of his hand. "Call me sometime?" You hold his hand up for an extra moment, before letting it drop back down.

"Mmmhm, yeah," Spencer bobs his head up and down vigorously.

"Okay, good. Goodnight Spencer," You smile, giving him a small wave.

"Goodnight y/n" He smiles back, as the two of you turn around to go your separate ways.

You notice as you turn back around that you're still wearing Spencer's jacket, part of you has the urge to call out to him to give it back, the other part of you wants to keep it- if he wants to get it back, he'll have to come see you again.

"Wait! Y/n!" You hear Spencer from just behind you. You frown a little, thinking your plan to keep Spencer's jacket had been foiled and he was calling to get it back from you.

"Yeah?" You whip your head back around.

"Did you mean it when you said to let you know if I wanted to have my first kiss- and that you'd change that I've never um-"

"Uhh..huh," You responded, a little to eager as an uncontrollable smile began to tug at the ends of your lips, "Are you asking me to kiss you Spencer?"

"Maybe," His voice breaks, unable to look you directly in the eyes.

You raise one eyebrow, "Maybe?"

"Ahem. Uh- I mean- yes."

Before you know it, you're tugging at his tie, pulling him close to you. Your lips are on his, just a peck at first, Spencer is hesitant. He is unsure of what to do with any part of his body, his lips move carefully, his hands unsure of just where they should be, they rest on your hips- before they move right under your shoulders. You make the decision to tilt your head and deepen the kiss. Spencer's lips are soft with inexperience, he has absolutely no clue what he's doing, yet you can't get enough.

The two of you pull away slowly, neither one of you wanting to give up the kiss- but you eventually have to surrender to the night and to the cold. You place one final peck on Spencer's lips.

"Now you have to call me." You giggle, unable to hide your excitement.

"Yeah-yeah," Spencer nods, eyes wide, his lips are shiny and his cheeks a pretty shade of pink. "Absolutely."

"Goodnight Spencer." You say once more, before turning around to head inside.

A/N: whew! when I tell you I spent all day writing this i mean all day! that's okay though... im obsessed with grad school! reid. anyways..... thinking about making a (potentially smutty) part two to this ;-)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

HOW DEEP IS YOUR DEVOTION? ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank you to @/teddybeartoji for having the biggest brain in the galaxy and infecting me with this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading you can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise an unimpressed brow. satoru steps back, inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when that makes you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“... fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily. his chest is heaving, lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire. ”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

“… do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing. enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

[felibrary]

our love has always been 10 centimeters apart - aventurine

synopsis: the two times the both of you were away from each other even though the only thing you’ve longed for was each other, and the one time where the two of you find your way back to one another again.

pairing: aventurine x reader (gn) | wordcount: 2.0k | content & warnings: unestablished relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, reader cries a bit (tiny bit), mentions of alcohol and “sex” (an idiom = get into one's pants) but no graphic mention of sex + they’re not drunk, kissing, making up and making out (one kiss), tba if i find more, proofreading is for losers (its 4am (cet) i'm just too lazy); oneshot

tags: @azullumi (i swear that grey block with spikes from mario literally looks like "alpha sigma boss. you guys agree right?? prove azul wrong.)

img credits: @/magnolia29 on x!

a/n: i started this draft at like 12 an and procrastinated for god knows how long but yeah!! hope this is okay for what sleep deprived me wrote lmfao

“you seriously still wear that thing?”

aventurine points at the wool scarfs you’re wearing, it hangs a bit loosely due to you not wrapping it around your neck enough.

“yeah, got a problem?” you tease, grinning as you look at him. “it’s the first thing i got from you when i was moved to this department.”

ah right. he remembers the day vividly. they said that a certain member has risen quite quickly in the past few months and will now be moved to his department: the strategic investment department.

on the first day of work, aventurine, like the thoughtful senior he is, came up to you and greeted you, offering you a tour around the building and introducing you to the staff and everyone who worked here. you agreed and followed him as he guided you around your new workplace.

the two of you got along quickly, exchanging laughters and telling each other jokes as the two of you were strolling around the building. he remembers gifting you an expensive scarf, one made out of the finest wool in the whole galaxy. you thanked him wholeheartedly and at that he couldn’t help but invite you out for a drink - like the mindful senior he is, of course.

drinking after work became a little habit for the two of you. sometimes the two of you were able to drag veritas or topaz along, but usually veritas denied the invitations, saying “he doesn’t want to mush up his brain due to the alcohol.” as for topaz she usually came along to look after the two of you, but today it seemed like there was an emergency regarding numby, which she had to rush to immediately. leaving you and aventurine alone.

which led you to your current situation, the two glasses of alcohol in front of aventurine are left untouched, everything that happens right now is done with a sober mind. he can’t put the alcohol to blame.

your hands are close, they're a mere 10 centimeters apart from his. it takes everything inside of him to not take your hand in his and smother it in kisses, but he refrains, he can't - he shouldn't even be thinking about something like this.

your soft lips lean forward to meet his, they're a mere 10 millimeters away from his. you continue to launch forward, he doesn't move away, he can't move - he's frozen. you assume he granted you permission to kiss him. your hand snakes towards his, loosely intertwining the tips of your fingers.

your lips ghost over his - the distance between the two of you is gone, it scares him. he fears he might not be able to return if he goes this way. 

aventurine can’t help but pull away from your tantalizing touch, it hurts him. but he’s scared.

he slips his fingers out of your grasp, lurching backwards, uncomfortably shifting on the big sofa and scooting back, to move away from you.

your eyes shoot open, clearly filled with confusion. your lips slightly part open and you tilt your head to the side, irritation is written all over your face.

"s-sorry." he apologizes quickly. "i don't think i'm made for this," he mutters. regret immediately overcoming him and you.

"ah, don't worry. i should be the one apologizing. i'm sorry. i shouldn't have just assumed your feelings. forgive me." you try to maintain a steady tone but your voice and expression betray you. your voice quivers - it breaks, it sounds like you're holding back tears that are about to spill at any given moment.

no, no , no this can't be. it's all his fault. he ruined everything once again, his gift was a mere misfortune, it only caused bad luck. 

your hand that was once connected with his slithered away from its previous position, this time you really were gone.

perhaps this is when aventurine realized that the both of you weren't just mere inches apart but the distance between the two of you went beyond planets and galaxies and thus could never be conquered.

the two of you were worlds apart.

it’s been a few years ever since he’s seen you. (there hasn’t been a single day where he hasn’t thought about you.) apparently someone caught wind of what happened between you and aventurine, of course they reported it right away. initially it was planned to fire you, for making a move on one of the ten stonehearts, especially as someone who stood below him. 

but aventurine convinced them not to do so, saying he’s also at fault and that they should just make you move departments, perhaps you’d learn from your mistakes. it was successful - he was beyond relieved. he didn’t show it, the only thing that was visible to them was a cunning smile. 

behind it, beneath the faux smile, he was clenching his teeth, biting the insides of his lips so hard that they began to bleed (he wishes that you were there to trace the outline of your lips over his once again, mending to his wounds - both, the one on his lips and the one in his heart.) his left hand was trembling behind his back as he awaited their judgment.

eventually you did get moved to another department and aventurine didn’t visit you, too caught up at work and business matters on other planets. 

(it’s a lie - he knows that himself, it’s just to avoid you. it’s for the better he thinks, better for the both of you to not meet. he fears that all the feelings he kept hidden inside his chest will return and turn his world upside down once again.)

one time he overheard some co-workers gossiping about “the person who got into mr. aventurines pants” getting sent onto a mission that’ll take several years. “what a pity that they won’t get to see him anymore.” a female voice giggles as the other voice hums in agreement and they walk away.

lies. all lies, it had to be. both that you “got into his pants” - hell it was a mere kiss that the two of you exchanged (not even a kiss because he shied away.) but it had to be a lie that you were sent away right? right? It’s just rumors, just some gossip that people need to pass their time, it can't be. 

of course, to his dismay, it had to be true. 

his luck was truly a misfortune.

spring has come, the remaining snow melts away and turns into puddles. the skies started to clear up and flowers that were once covered in snowflakes, hidden beneath the white blanket of snow, started to open up again, blooming in their full glory. 

but there was another flower he spotted, one that stood out from the others - you. after all this time, he’s finally found you. 

this time he doesn't falter.

he runs up to you. pulling you into a tight embrace as he hugs you. his nose is buried into the wool scarf you’re wearing, he took notice that it’s the same one he gifted you back then. your scent mixed with his still lingers on it.

“aventurine?!!” you shout, surprised to see him again after all those years. 

“you kept it..” he whispers fondly. huh? you’re confused, what is he talking about? “the scarf i mean.” he says without looking up, as if he knew what you were thinking without having to see what expression you wear or hear your voice and which sound you’ve uttered.

“of course, i did.” you say bitterly. “after all, it's the last and only thing i have left from you.” you whisper, a frown finds its way onto your face.

“no. that’s not true.” he protests, finally looking up. it's just like the last time he saw you, your eyebrow furrowed, your eyes telling him that you’re on the verge of crying - similar to when he rejected your advances. “you have me now.” the words barely above a whisper.

“oh aeons, dont, please. i beg of you.” aventurine is quick to put his gloved fingers on your eyes and rub them softly, collecting the tear drops that are about to run down your cheek. “you know i hate seeing you like this.” he whispers quietly as he removes his glove from his hand and rubs circles over your cold and reddened cheeks. 

“i missed you.” you hiccup in between your cries, aventurine continues to catch your tears, he won’t allow you to cry any more - especially because he’s the reason why you’re tearing up.

“pshh.” he tries to quiet you. “ive missed you too, probably more than you know.” as an attempt to reassure you.

“i’m here now, i’ll stay with you, i’ll follow you wherever you go.” he leans forward, this time he’s the one initiating the kiss and you gladly return it. his chapped lips meet yours, kissing you messily. there’s some biting and teeth clashing but he couldn’t care less, neither do you - after all this is what you’ve been waiting for.

there's no distance, no fronts, no walls to separate the two of you. he's never felt this kind of love - your love. he hasn't been held this lovingly for an eternity, this is the first time he actually somehow feels human.

boundaries is a word foreign to the two of you, they've never been there - they never will be there because from the beginning on aventurines heart has only sought after you.

it used to terrify him, the way his heart always seemed to jump out of his rib cage upon seeing you. the louder and faster the pumping got the closer you leaned in - just like back then.

but exactly because of that or rather because of you he discovered a new part of himself, diving into an ocean of emotions that were anchored to the bottom of the water, anticipating the daz they'll be discovered and treasured in one's heart. those feelings were unknown to him until he met you.

"what should i say once we meet again?", "what should i do to prove that i'm ready now and don't fear to love or be loved anymore?", "how can i prove my love to you?"

those questions have haunted him in his restless nights, the ones that made him wake up from his deep slumber where he dreamt of you, forehead glistening with cold beads of sweat, gripping his bed sheets tightly. (all of his thoughts and dreams are filled with you.)

the beauty of this world has always been hidden beneath a window curtain, he was oblivious - blind, just how breathtaking the world can truly be.

but you came along, pulling the curtains away, revealing the outside world to him. you stepped into his life and shattered the glass that kept him confined behind the window.

you confessed your unyielding love for him. you love him - you've always done and you always will - you imagined a future which he was a part of. where the vibrant colors of the sun not only greeted you but also him as he laid next to you, side by side. watching as the rising sun kisses your skin with its tendrils of sunshine. 

(he'd follow the rays of sunshine and kiss the same spots they marked, he'd leave a trail of kisses along your body.)

how can he ever repay you for what you've done for him?

a mere thank you wouldn't suffice - not in a million years.

if you were to ask him if he'd give you the sun, the moon, the stars or the whole sky - he would.

if you were to ask him if he'd get on his knees for you - he would, no questions asked. be it when he prays to you, pleas leaving his lips and dripping off his tongue or when he'd kneel down on one of his knees to tie your shoes or propose to you - he would.

if you were to ask him if he'd stay by your side all night or rather all life long - he would. he'd be your light that'd guide you even though the flame went extinct, he'd be your flesh you'd nibble on, he'd be your blood you live off.

he wouldn't hesitate for a single moment, he'd give you everything you yearn and long for in a single heartbeat.

after all, that's the least he can do for you.

@azullumi here extra paragraph again hhihihihuuh anyway when's the stoner!chuuya x stoner!reader fic like where??? also azul i love you a lot. you deserve the best - you deserve the world. i hope you get accepted into your dream uni, get everything you've worked hard for (u deserve it, you're a person full of determination) and yeah convince ur teacher to extend the deadline!!

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

e/n: it's 4am rn im sooooo tired but yeah here!

[wintersera]

forever mine || alpha!karina x omega!reader

notes: AGAIN sorry for the delay anon but here’s the request!! fun fact i wrote this while listening to the super mario galaxy ost 😭

cw: OMEGAVERSE, alpha karina, omega reader (obvs), maybe rina is a little possessive, use of toys, biting, scratching, g!p rina, creampie, breeding kink

wc 2.2k

your alpha girlfriend was so sweet and caring, the best alpha you could ever wish for. unlike other alphas, she was never too aggressive with you, rather, she was too careful with you- biologically she should’ve been treating you like you were her toy for breeding, but i guess not. nonetheless she was still a great alpha girlfriend.

—

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK

first of september- the first ever day since you’ve forgotten to buy your heat suppressants since you started dating jimin. your stomach drops as your pheromones begin to waft around your workplace filled with pure blooded alphas.

shit shit shit i’m dead, oh i’m screwed what do i do? ohhh god what do i do?

it was sorta stupid. yeah- an undercover omega in a job filled to the brim with hardworking alphas. you were doing a great job of convincing everyone that you were just a simple beta. that’s how you landed your job in the first place, but now because of this one stupid mistake, you were bound to lose your job.

“guys…” head manager, a very big alpha man in your words, spoke up. his head tilting and nostrils flaring as he’s looking around the office, confusion on his sharp features “…are you smelling that?” with the attention drawn on your floral scent, you begin to panic as the other alphas begin sniffing around too.

ough,, how do you get outta this situation fast “i think i’ll head out early guys. whoever has their heat is driving me insane it might trigger my rut” how bad of a lie was that. it didn’t matter anyways, dashing out the room with your blazer and bag in, hand rummaging around your trouser pockets as soon as you make it out of the building.

“jesus christ jimin pick up please, please” walking, no- sprinting to the direction of your apartment. you knew your heat was gonna hit you badly. you’ve been taking suppressants for years so having a full blown pheromone disaster for the first time in years was going to be crazy. people were looking at you like you were crazy, but you’d rather have many people look at you weird than have your scent imprinted on the damn streets.

“what’s up?” thank the lord, she answered her phone just in time.

fumbling for your keys trying to shove it into the door lock, you sigh with a heavy breath “uh,, um jimin i’m going into heat- i already feel funny” unlocking the door, you fling yourself into the apartment, slamming the door shut with a loud bang.

“what do you mean going into heat? did you not,,, oh well shit okay give me a few minutes” hanging up the call.

not so much to your surprise, slick was coating your cunt like crazy. to the point where it started to go through your trousers and down your legs. the need you had for your girlfriend was so unbearable.

in a haze, you wobbled to your shared bedroom and grabbed one of her used shirts. her clothes smelt so good, the lingering scent dripping from her clothes was enough to make you keel over and plop onto the bed. you felt yourself getting slicker, your needy cunt needing your alpha to come over and fuck you silly was growing stronger each second she wasn’t in the room with you.

taking matters into your own hands because you couldn’t wait any longer, the feeling of your heat coiling in your stomach was too much. your brain was giving into your biological urges and you needed to get off now or you’d suffer. grabbing a pile of jimin's clothes and making somewhat of a nest on the bed, you surround yourself with the scent of freshly ground coffee. quickly taking off every single piece of clothing, getting right back up to open the box of toys you kept just in case a moment like this ever happened- searching for anything, any toy, that could satisfy you while you wait for your alpha.

whereas jimin on the other hand was worried sick. throughout your two year relationship with her she’d never seen you in a proper heat. like yeah, the heat suppressants and scent blockers helped quite a lot so you were never heavily affected by the symptoms. of course omegas would usually never get this horrible desire to mate this early into their heat, but unfortunately for you, you did have this raging urge to mate so early.

you weren’t so very conscious, you were starting to feel groggy, a feverish high temperature when you touch your head began to appear. this heat was kicking you in the ass and you couldn’t take it anymore- taking the vibrator in your hands and placing it on the highest setting, your hands make there way all the way down to your throbbing clit “a-ah, hnnng jimin come quick…”

so so desperate for her, you pick up your phone hoping that she would answer your calls “please- please pick up jimin”

“i’m almost home baby, do you need something or…”

“just hurry up i’m begging you to come home pleaseee” and who was she to deny your request. stepping on the gas faster knowing that her precious little omega was in need of her alphas presence. she could here your desperation deep within your voice.

“don’t worry i’m about to park soon, just wait for me okay” jimin, knowing how she acted during your very suppressed heats, believed that she could never submit to her instincts since she has never done so when it came to you. that quickly changed as she opened the door, the scent of roses attacking her as she stepped inside. it was a thick scent, it stuck to everywhere and it didn't help that you couldn’t open the windows in time, now your walls were coated in this thick floral scent.

it took jimin a lot of willpower not to give into her urges right there. she felt her rut kicking in and it made her growl in discomfort. never feeling this way in a while, because she took rut suppressants since the two of you started dating, she started growing hazy much like you did. she was a pure blooded alpha which didn’t help either, the intensity of your heat did rounds on her and she had strongest urge to mark you up.

you could hear her footsteps grow louder and louder, her low growls could be heard with the door still shut. quite impressive. she didn’t even say anything when entering, taking off her work clothes only leaving just her boxers on, the line of her hard cock showing through made you whimper out loud. your slick was practically drooling out from your pussy.

in her eyes you were nothing more than a snack to be devoured. her red eyes peered down at you like you were some sort of prey, and you must admit that pure blooded alpha jimin was really arousing to watch. pheromones in the room were strong as hell, your thick sweet floral scent mixing with jimin’s freshly scented coffee smell made a delicious combination. the scent alone driving you two mad.

she went to sit on the bed, still peering at you meek little body. with hunter like eyes she stared you down and licked her lips, “sit up omega” obeying your alpha like the good little omega you are, you sit up from the nest of clothes.

she could hear little puffs of air pour out of your lips, stifling a chuckle as she watches you struggle to sit up straight and look at her straight in the eye. hooking you up with ease, jimin had your body pressed up against hers, sliding one of her hands in between your thighs opening them up with a strong grip “you look so needy for me” a second goes by and she’s shoving you back into the pillow.

“fuck” jimin whispered “how do you smell so good” nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “you smell so tempting, fuck, i can’t-“ she gave your thighs a firm squeeze, exhaling shakily “you need to take me right now, i can’t take it anymore. i need to feel your tight cunt around my cock” her voice low and coarse. in a flash she slipped her cock into your dripping heat, mewls threatening to escape your mouth.

if you weren’t too dazed and horny you would’ve been saying how you’ve waited for this exact moment. jimin didn’t spend anytime fucking around with foreplay, she went straight into pounding your slicked up hole with no mercy. everything she did set your body ablaze, her hands were touching every single inch on your body and it felt so fucking good.

like a ravenous animal she attacked your neck, licking, marking, biting your throat all whilst groaning. her animalistic mind wanting to show that you’re her omega and nobody else’s and by that she had to litter you with marks of any kind, purposely rubbing her scent to mark you as her omega.

every thrust made your back arch slightly off the bed, hitting all the spots you never knew could feel good because of how nice she usually fucked you. you felt how fast and precise her movement was, and it was heavenly.

as your back arched closer to hers, she shifted even more closer to you, practically pinning you onto the bed by hooking both of your legs above her broad shoulders. hitting even deeper then she previously did before, you felt the tip of her cock graze your cervix “mmfh, fuck, fuck- my baby feels so fucking good” saying all that while she’s harshly sinking her teeth into your shoulders.

“s’too much,, ah- jimin, g-good” her urges began to flare up, the only thing on her mind was to mark you up for good. like she was oh so desperate to keep you as hers.

pulling her cock out, in between breaths she instructs you “turn around. y/n turn over for me.. need to- need to fill you up“ taking your legs of her shoulders and flipping you over with ease, again with her predatory gaze, she stares right at your exposed ass in which tempted her to completely destroy you until you can’t stand anymore, leaving you in a state of vulnerability so that she can take care of you.

her alpha instincts were indeed controlling her every movement, the loving and caring alpha you knew was gone. all was left was a dominating alpha who wanted to fuck you till you were filled up with her cum, even if that means you’ll bear her pups.

returning back into your needy cunt, she moans even louder, louder than you’d ever heard. “omega- omega fuck, i’ll mark you. you’re mine, mine only. mine,,, shit you’re mine forever” relentlessly pushing your head into the pillows, her thrusts became frantic and desperate- her movement erratic and messy, it made you love her even more. her alpha side was making you wetter and wetter, bedsheets were covered with your slick.

your moans were insanely unholy. you were screaming and clawing onto whatever you could grab hold onto. her dick growing larger than before and that's when the both of you knew that she was about to knot into you. grabbing her arm for moral support, you dig your nails harshly into them leaving a few minor scars.

right now you looked so fucked out. you were crying, drooling everywhere all while you were screaming out her name. jimin took her time to place a generous amount of bites and hickeys all over your back too. you know… for extra measures of course.

“aah fuck, pleasepleaseplease alpha cum- cum in me” you sobbed out.

“bout to- gonna,, augh fuck cumming” one final harsh thrust into your cunt and her knot swelled as she spilled every ounce of cum into your hole. your cunt clamping down on her as well, essentially locking the two of you. whilst she knotted into you, she swiftly leaned to the back of your neck and inserted her teeth. it hurt a lot, the feeling of her sharp canines sent your nerves on fire, but only a second later and it felt almost orgasmic.

finally she had marked you, but now you were stuck like this for a while. her knot being large enough to just be stuck in this position. both of you were lowkey back into consciousness, the alpha side of her dying down a little bit and the subby omega side of you dissipating.

after a couple of minutes of basking in your orgasm, her knot went down eventually. it was just enough so that you could move slightly which inevitably caused her semen to seep out of your cunt.

“aaah~ can’t… believe.. i… marked.. you..” catching her breath through each word she managed to muster up “that means you’re mine.. forever, right?”

aww big dom alpha jimin was gone, but your cute puppy of a girlfriend was back. you turn around with her cock still in you and see her smiling right at you, her big puppy eyes beaming with glee.

“yeah.. forever”

[astroboots]

Every You Every Me | Issue #7

COLLABORATED WITH @thirstworldproblemss

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You finally get some answers out of Miguel about who you are to him.

Word count: 5,700 words.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

"So let's take it from the top," you tell him, as you sit down and put down the Trenta-sized caramel flavored hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup in front of the man named Miguel O'Hara.

The two of you are sitting across from each other at a small booth at the nearest Starbucks you were able to find, seeing as you're homeless now, and there's nowhere else you could think of to go.

He's dressed in a large fitted hoodie that drapes down to his thighs. Where he's managed to find something that is oversized in length on him, you don't know because he's not exactly short.

"I'm from a dimension known as Earth-928," Miguel says.

Before he can continue, you raise one hand, and you can see his right eyebrow twitch unhappily at the interruption. 

"Yes?"

"Just to clarify, so we don't have another ‘coffee cake’ misunderstanding. When you say Earth-928, do you mean a different version of the Earth we’re on now? Or is this a habitable planet in another galaxy that happens to be partially named Earth?"

"It's a parallel universe characterized by distinct physical parameters and initial conditions, accounting for the diverse manifestations of our observable universe. So still Earth," he says, sweeping his gaze across the café, nose wrinkling the way one does when there's something off-putting in their vicinity. "Just a little bit less primitive."

Of course he would say that, wouldn't be able to resist the jab would he.

You peer up at him across the table. He is very technical and thorough with his explanations. But as grateful as you are for him finally being willing to answer your questions, you hadn't expected those answers to be quite so information dense. You need to pick your questions more carefully or you are going to have to go down the street to buy yourself a notebook in order to keep up.

"How did you end up on this Earth?" you ask.

"Where I'm from, I'm a scientist, a researcher. One of the things I studied was the theory of physical cosmology and the existence of the multiverse. My work was concentrated on the theoretical ability to navigate between distinct universes within a hypothetical multiverse–”

Ah shit, you should've been more narrow in your question. Should have asked him to simplify it a bit more for you. Because now you're sitting here blinking up at him, pretending you understand half of what he's saying. 

It makes sense that he’s STEM. He speaks like the type. Smart as hell with none of the social skills to gauge whether the other person is following the conversation. 

Listening to him reminds you of that time in college, when you'd walked into the wrong lecture hall, wound up in advanced chemistry instead of your math class, felt too awkward to leave and just sat there drawing doodles with an attentive expression until the class was over. 

And he’s still at it, “– employing advanced mechanisms that manipulate or transcend conventional spacetime frameworks, enabling exploration–"

"Okay, wait, hold on a sec," you interrupt, once it becomes obvious he’s not going to stop any time soon on his own. "Can you... simplify, please?"

He stops mid-sentence, taking a deep breath as he looks up at the ceiling and considers your request, with a serious expression as if he's thinking really hard on it. "I’m a scientist. I study the multiverse. I built a parallel universe traversal device, it allows me to visit different dimensions." Your brain feels insulted that it clearly took more mental effort for him to dumb it down for you than to just give the supergenius version.

“So… a machine that allows you to jump between alternative universes?” 

“Yes.” 

There’s a pause between you as you run through the questions in your mental list you want to tick off now that he’s turned cooperative and talkative. But with everything that’s happened in the last handful of hours, a lot of the questions you previously had seemed outdated. The one question, the most important one, you’ve wanted to ask from the start though remains. 

"Who am I to you?"

Miguel takes the large sized drink in his even larger hands and somehow this big paper cup still manages to look tiny in his grip. "You and I were... involved," he says.

You frown. ‘Involved’ is such a vague term. It belongs in the trash with other useless terms to describe relationships: “situationship”, “complicated”, you hate them all. 

"So I was your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, something like that," he concede, fidgeting with the thin gold chain looped around his neck, his eyes not quite meeting yours, like he's embarrassed to use the term.

‘Something like that,’ you chew on his answer unhappily, sympathizing with your other dimensional self and how the other you seemed to have snagged a commitment phobe. 

Other-you, who isn’t here in this dimension with Miguel. You wonder why that is. 

"What happened to me?" you ask.

His eyes are glued to the table,  not looking up at you as he answers you in a voice so quiet you can barely hear it. "She died."

"Oh."

The revelation shouldn’t take you by surprise. 

Every time Miguel’s brought up your other self, it’s been tinted with earth-shattering sadness. It's not hard to put one and one together and come to the conclusion that whatever happened to you in this other dimension didn't end happily.

Still it's an odd feeling to know that out there, somewhere, a version of you has died. A version of you that was clearly very important to the man in front of you.

"I'm sorry," you tell him.

It feels silly to say. It's bizarre to give your condolences over your own parallel death, but Miguel looks so heartbroken. He’s slumped in his seat, large shoulders rounded until his frame looks so much smaller than you're used to, and you don't know what else to do.

"So what is happening to me now," you start, not sure how to word what the phenomena that you're going through is, "these continuous near-death experiences, is that how she died?"

"Yeah."

"And do you know why that... kept happening to her? Why is it happening to me?"

"I don't, and I don't know how to stop it. Believe me I tried."

He cradles the paper cup in his hands, the grip a little bit tighter now until he's creasing the paper and the caramel liquid oozes and leaks from the top.

"What I do know is that the universe isn’t going to stop trying to kill you, no matter what you do. And with every near death incident you manage to survive, these incidents will escalate in nature, until..." he stops, eyes flickering away from the cup to meet yours, but it's like he loses courage and doesn't want to say the last part.

"Until, what?" you prompt.

"Until your dimension collapses."

The blood freezes in your veins. "Wait, collapses!? What do you mean?"

"I can't guarantee it will happen again. But that's what happened last time. When the other you kept cheating death, the universe eventually started to collapse in on itself."

You slump back in your chair, trying to process what you've just been told. What does that mean? That even if you managed to defy all odds to survive, doing so would doom the rest of this universe as you know it?

"When will that happen?" you ask, and you're surprised you manage to get the words out because there is a hard lump in your throat that makes it hurt to even swallow.

"Judging from the trajectory and escalation of events, you have about three months give or take."

The two of you sit in heavy silence, for the moment you're not sure what else to ask him. Because it feels like you are trapped in a building looking for an exit sign, but all that’s tacked onto the brick wall is your death certificate, waiting to be signed and formalized.

There’s no way out. Nowhere to go.

"Give me your hand," he says, breaking the silence. 

You give it to him without hesitation, watching, puzzled, as he takes off his watch and secures it around your wrists.

"Why are you giving me your watch?"

"It's not a watch," he says, then he presses something on the face of it, and an image of a young woman flickers into existence in the space above your wrist, vaguely see-through. A hologram!

"This is Lyla," he introduces.

Wait, wait? Lyla? As in your mom Lyla? You watch the tiny woman floating above your wrist. Short bob-cut, and flashy heart-shaped sunglasses, with a twinkle in her eye. 

The hologram looks nothing like your mom. You part your mouth, about to ask about the name but you're interrupted by the energetic buzz of a female voice greeting you.

"Boss-girl! Long time no see. Want me to catch you up on the latest multiversal gossip? I compiled an edit of highlights set to Despacito."

"Lyla," Miguel warns, tersely. "Not now."

"Ruuuuude! You're the one who woke me up you know."

"Lyla, go back to sleep."

The female avatar grumbles, but then her image flickers away and the watch turns back into, as far as you can tell, just an ordinary watch.

"Why did you name the watch Lyla?"

"It's not a– " He cuts himself off, sighing with exasperation. "Lyla is an advanced A.I. she's going to be with you at all times. She's an added layer of security, built to protect you."

He didn't answer your question. Completely sidestepped it as if the two of you are having two different conversations.

Built to protect you, he'd said. Does that mean he still intends to do that?

"So you're not going to leave?" you ask him.

He leans back in his seat, eyes drifting towards the table. "No."

You look up at him, stumped. Not sure you're understanding what he's saying. Because not even a few hours ago, when the two of you were in your apartment, this man was adamant there was nothing to be done to save you. That he was going to leave and you were never going to see him again.

Right now though, his actions seem to be contradictory to that. You can't make heads or tails of him. Hot and cold doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

"Why not?" you ask, "I mean, not that I’m not grateful, but you seemed pretty set on the whole ‘I can’t save you’ thing. What changed your mind?"

“You did.” His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, crossing his arms ever his chest, "You told me you wanted to live. Have you changed your mind already?"

“Wha– NO! I just want to know why you changed yours.”

“I–” He hesitates, another wave of sadness passing over his face. “I’m a superhero. I save people… or try to. It’s what I do. I’m not gonna just leave you to die after you tell me you want to live.”

It’s a good answer, even if you don’t buy that it’s the whole truth. 

You look down at your wrist, and the shiny chrome of the not-watch he's just gifted you winks back up at you. "Do you think I have a chance of surviving all this?"

"It's pretty hopeless," he says, and there’s no break in his expression as he continues. "Your chances of making it out alive are pretty much mathematically impossible."

It's odd though. Even though he's outlining the futility of your situation, basically telling you to raise the white flag and surrender, there's something contradictory in the tone of his voice. 

"What do you want to do?" he asks you.

It’s a challenge, you realize. An encouragement. He has faith in you. It's all of these things rolled into one. As if he's telling you to prove the universe wrong.

"I want to live," you answer. "If the universe collapses in three months, then please stay with me. Give me time to solve this and find a way to stay alive."

His mouth curls into a hint of a smile. The very first you've seen from him since you've met. It's bright and boyish, erasing the harsh lines of his stern expression until it gives way for something much softer underneath that makes your heart leap in your chest with triumph.

You grin, a strange elation of happiness buzzing in you as you stretch out your hand to him, in an invitation for a handshake to seal the deal.

"Deal?"

Miguel leans over the table, clasping your hand in his much larger one as he squeezes it back gently.

"Deal." That small smile from before is still there. "So what's next?" he asks.

The thing you never realized, being an ordinary person bereft of super genes or other superhuman powers is just how convenient commuting can be if you have them. 

No longer do you have to brave the Lynchian nightmare that is the NYC subway system. Half-naked manic street preachers giving sermons as you’re held hostage, with nowhere else to go in the carriage. Being chased down by a drunk trumpeting Mariachi band. Instead, all you need to do to get from point A to point B (A: being the Chrysler building and B: the building formerly known as your home) is to hold on tight to Miguel as he swings you both above the city gridlock.

You imagine that this is what paragliding must feel like, except it's so much better because here you don't have to do the safety training beforehand or pay $3,000 for the privilege.

The city skyline is a dark evening blue, dotted with the sparkling lights of office buildings, cab roof lights and street lamps, as the wind ruffles through the fabric of your clothes.

It's such a different sight when you're flying above instead of walking on the streets below, that you don't even clock that you're in your neighborhood, until you see a building with a collapsed wall that's been blocked off, looking like a crash site. Only then do you realize... you're home.

Miguel carefully sets you down on your feet on a small patch of concrete that is clear of the rubble and destruction.

"Why did you want to come back here again?" he asks. 

It’s a good question. Now that you're here, standing in the middle of charred debris and cracked bricks, you're not sure either. You had some vague plans of seeing what you could salvage, hoping for some clothes, maybe your electric toothbrush, or really just any of your stuff. Something that’s yours, no matter how small, to hold on to after the events of today have ripped away life as you know it.

But there’s nothing left. The furniture, all your books and knick knacks, and even your dirty laundry piles have been demolished. Your home as you know it is gone. There's only piles and piles of rubble and traces of white fire extinguisher foam on the ground. The fire has been out for hours, but the pungent smell of smoke and sulfur still pervades the air. 

"You okay?" Miguel asks.

He's still standing at the outer edges of the apartment, close to where your window would have been if a helicopter hadn't crashed through it.

"Yeah... I guess the silver lining is that I didn't have anything expensive. Though it'd been nice if I could've saved my mom's Le Creuset set or at least the nanny-cam so I could return it and get a refund," you joke glibly. 

You nudge aside some concrete rubble with the cap of your shoes. There's nothing under there, no treasured memorabilia that's still miraculously intact. Just more burnt concrete and rubble.

"Why did you have a nanny cam?"

You turn around at his question, to see him hovering close to you, one eyebrow raised with an unhappy set to his jaw. 

From the displeased expression on his face, he's probably misunderstanding something here. Probably thinks you're operating a very unlucrative Onlyfans business, when what you've really been doing is spy on him and his nightly visits. You don't know which is worse to confess to, so you don't confess to anything.

"No reason," you say, ignoring the way his already raised eyebrow twitches with irritation at your lack of an answer.

"Come on, let's go," he says, and he waves towards you in a come hither motion like he's commanding a dog.

"Go?" you ask him. "It's past midnight. My place, as you can see, is wrecked. Go where exactly?"

Miguel shoots you a strange look. "A hotel," he says, like it's the most obvious thing, and– okay, he's not completely wrong in that assumption.

Problem is, you didn't have time to pick up your wallet or phone before your impromptu interdimensional visit. They’ve been incinerated along with all the rest of your worldly possessions, which means you don't have any way to pay for a hotel.

Plus Manhattan hotel prices average $400 a night. Even if you still had access to your debit cards, your budget’s pretty tight right now after all the capital you invested in your unhinged quest to trap the superhero before you. 

"In the city? I don't have that kind of money and it will take months for any insurance payouts to come in."

You should know. As an insurance claims adjuster, you know you’ll be lucky if your claim is processed before the end of the year. And, ugh, just the thought of the paperwork you’ll have to fill out is enough to give you an anxiety migraine.

"I’ll cover the room," Miguel says casually before holding out a hand to you, "Come on, let’s go."

When Miguel said he’d cover it, you expected a reasonably-priced room at one of the Days Inn across the river or the like. Hopefully a place with no rats or bed bugs, and maybe clean bedding over a somewhat comfortable mattress for you to pass out on if you were lucky.

You didn't expect this.

Standing in front of the Midtown Four Seasons, you find yourself on sleek marble so polished you can see your own reflection. You haven't even stepped a foot inside yet and there are two old fashioned doormen, wearing immaculately fitted suits, with an even more impressive posture opening the majestic double-set doors for you as you approach.

It's swanky as hell, and you can’t help gawking like a tourist, eyes glued to the decadent carved ceilings that must be at least 30 feet tall, soaring above you. Honey-colored limestone that looks like it’s been looted from Ancient Rome.

You feel more than a little bit out of place. This is way outside of your budget. You could probably work your job for a lifetime, and not have enough disposable income to stay the night at a place like this.

"Uhm, Miguel... this place is way too–" you start, turning towards him.

But as you were busy lamenting the state of the housing market, he's already walked away from you (for such a bulky guy, he moves swiftly and silently) and as you whip your head around to find him, he's already standing in front of the receptionist.

Damned antelope legged man, would it kill him to wait up for you once in a while? You run up after him and have to tip-toe in order to see over his shoulder because the giant mammoth is blocking the check-in counter.

And wow, even the receptionist here is of a different caliber than the ones you'd find at Holiday Inn. A fashionable bob-cut with razor sharp edges, looking like a model cut out from a Vogue cover.

"Do you have a reservation, Sir?"

You half-expect him to say no, and that the two of you would have to tuck your tail between your legs and walk out of here to the backdrop of a sad trombone playing.

To your astonishment he says your name. The receptionist tip-taps away at her keyboard and then she nods and smiles gracefully at you both. 

"Yes of course. After reviewing your reservation details, I am pleased to inform you that all necessary arrangements have already been made, including advance payment and verification of your identification. Your room is ready for you, we trust you will enjoy your stay."

She flashes you a pearly white smile so shiny it's almost blinding and hands you a hotel key card. 

When you turn around, to your confusion Miguel is no longer next to you. How does he keep disappearing like this? 

"Cielito," Miguel’s voice calls. The nickname doesn’t register at first. It doesn't even occur to you that he’s referring to you, until he barks it out a second time. 

Your head darts up to see him standing by the elevator, tapping his feet impatiently as he waits for you to make it over to him.

"How did you do that?" you whisper loudly to him as you step into the elevator. "Where did you get my ID? How did you make a reservation? How did you--"

He takes your hand, mid-sentence, turning your wrist upwards and taps the watch.

"The computer systems in this universe are child's play for Lyla to manipulate. Reservations, money, ID, she can take care of all of that easily," he explains.

"She can do that?" you ask, and Miguel merely nods at you as the elevator closes behind the two of you.

You tip your head down to inspect your gifted watch. In awe of this technical marvel that would make Siri look like it’s from the stone-ages. You wonder if she can boost your credit scores. She could probably hack any wi-fi password so you'd never have to worry about data throttling again. She could get you table reservations for Libertine! The possibilities are endless!

You turn to Miguel. "Can Lyla get me Beyoncé tickets?" you ask. 

He just shakes his head at you with what almost qualifies as an amused smile.

The room upstairs is massive. 

It’s easily three times the size of your little studio apartment, and the ceilings are twice as tall, with a hanging glass chandelier that’s sparkling bright enough to blind you. It looks like one of those places featured in Architectural Digest. 

Everything is in an art deco style, with expensive looking furniture and even more expensive art hanging on the one spare wall that isn’t covered in floor to ceiling windows. There are large shelves and a sleek looking kitchen, complete with an opulent looking velvet lounge chair of emerald green that looks like something a Roman emperor would be fed grapes on. 

In this colossal space of a room, there is only one bed. One colossal, plush-mattress-topped, goose down duvet and probably 1,000,000,000 thread count sheet covered bed.

You tense up, not sure what the arrangements Miguel had in mind. Did he want the two of you to sleep in the same bed?

Miguel did pay for the room, so you’re not going to start voicing objections. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time in the short time span that you two have known each other to do that. This bed is also a lot wider than your tiny double bed, so it wouldn’t be the cramped disaster it was last night. You’d just have to make sure to use the bathroom before bed this time so he doesn’t jab your full bladder in the morning again. 

Without saying anything, Miguel strides across the length of the room with impatient and determined steps. His hand reaches for the balcony doors and slides them open. 

"Wait wait, where are you going?" you ask him as you run up to the middle of the room. 

“I’m sleeping outside,” he says over his shoulder, and your mind boggles with that. 

“Why? Isn’t it better for you to stay here?”

"This is the 62nd floor. That’s about as safe as you’re going to get. I’ll keep a lookout to make sure no more helicopters come crashing in.” 

You’re not sure if he means the last part as a joke or not, but as you watch his broad back retreating as he walks away from you, a sickening sort of the deja vu twists through your chest. 

I can’t save you, he’d said back in your apartment, Nothing can. 

The feeling clawing at your chest feels alarmingly like panic. It screams that he’s leaving you. That he’s never coming back. That you’ll never see him again. 

You’re being irrational, and you know it. You remind yourself that he wouldn’t have done this much for you only to bail in the middle of the night, but that doesn’t stop the fear that’s festering, sharp and urgent, under your skin, or the way your heart races, your whole body flashing hot and cold at the same time. 

You want him to stay. 

“Miguel,” you call out, and he immediately stops and turns to look back at you, one eyebrow raised in a skeptical question. 

Please stay. 

You open your mouth, but the words won’t come out. You can’t ask this man—this big, sarcastic, rude hulk of a man—to have a sleepover with you because you’re scared to be alone in the dark. He would laugh you out of the hotel room.

“Uhm… thank you,” you say instead, but it’s no less sincere, “For everything.”

His eyes soften, the sharp narrowness of them easing up. “It’s fine,” he mumbles, and despite the cold chill of the evening, you think you can see a faint flush blooming in his cheeks, before he quickly ducks his face from you. “I’ll be right outside if something happens.” 

He turns back around and walks out, closing the patio doors with a gentle click behind him, leaving you by yourself. 

It’s quiet. 

You survey the empty room you’re in. Without Miguel’s large frame taking up space, it seems even bigger than it did before. 

It’s a beautiful room. Something that you’re pretty sure you’ve seen in a movie set. You don’t know why you’re not as excited as you were before. This is you living your Pretty Woman moment. You should be filling up the big jacuzzi tub you saw with bubbles. Heck, maybe ask Lyla to order you a bottle of champagne from room service. 

Instead, your eyes linger on the glass patio doors leading to the balcony terrace. You walk over to the bed, perching yourself down on the edge of the mattress, then flop down. 

Might as well try to sleep, you think to yourself as you climb under the covers and switch off the light. The best thing you can do right now is catch yourself some rest so you’ll be alert while trying to figure out your next steps tomorrow.

3 months… That’s what Miguel told you.

That’s all the time you have left. 

That means you don’t have time to waste, but you also have no idea where to start. The local library doesn’t exactly carry any resources on how to stop the universe from trying to kill you. 

The Universe. 

An infinite cosmos, grander than any human being can possibly comprehend. This vast space containing all the galaxies with its billions of stars and planets, where an individual being does not even register as a speck, and it wants you dead. How can you possibly fight against those odds? 

You lie wide-eyed and awake staring into the dark of the room, and the feeling of dread gnaws into you. 

You don’t want to be alone right now. Turning in the bed, your eyes find their way back to the blank slate of the pitched night outside the balcony doors. 

You really wished he had stayed with you. 

Sitting upright in the bed, you consider your options. You can lie back down. Suffer insomnia and the existential horror of knowing the universe is trying to murder you. Or you can man up, swallow down whatever tiny morsel of your pride you have left and ask Miguel to come back inside and stay with you. 

Flinging the duvet from your body, you get up to walk over to the balcony. You hesitate for a moment before tapping the window pane the way you might knock on a door, giving a polite head's up before you slide the balcony patio open. But when you poke your head out, turning your head left and right, Miguel's nowhere to be found. 

Okay, that’s weird. He said he’d be right outside if you needed him. You walk up to the ledge of the balcony terrace, leaning over the rail and peer down to see him dangling upside down, from the ledge of your balcony. The sight nearly makes you scream. 

"Miguel!” 

At you calling his name, he pulls himself up, one clawed hand gripping at the concrete wall as he climbs his way up and over to you. He makes it look easy, as if gravity does not exist for him, and it’s only a moment until he’s perched on the ledge of the balcony, facing you. 

“What’s wrong?” he demands, eyes concerned, and you’re suddenly aware of how very close he is. His face mere inches from yours, your noses nearly touching.

“What’s wrong? You’re hanging upside down from the 62nd floor! What are you, a bat?!"

“Why did you come out here?” he clarifies, and his words give you pause. You try to gather your thoughts after the bizarre sight you just walked into and remember what you came out here for. 

He’s still looking at you with his full and intense concentration that makes your skin prickle with warmth.

God, it’s embarrassing to ask. You feel like you’re five years old, asking your parents to turn the nightlight on, even though you know you’re a big girl now and aren’t supposed to be afraid of monsters hiding under your bed any more. 

You look down on your hands, where you’re wringing them together, then back up at him, and make yourself spit it out, "Could you… maybe… stay with me tonight?" 

His eyes widen at your question, but he doesn’t actually answer you and gives you no physical indication one way or the other. 

"I feel safer when you're with me,” you admit. 

“I am with you out here,” he counters, because of course he can’t make this easy for you.  

“I can’t see you out here.”

The line of his shoulder eases, and he ducks his head down with a resigned sigh. "Fine. Get back inside, Cielito. You're going to catch a cold like this."

You shuffle back inside to your bed, watching out of the corner of your eye as  he follows you inside and settles himself on the lounge sofa. He’s so tall that his feet are sticking out over the armrests, like a long-legged stork. 

Hiding a smile, you climb back into bed, wrapping the bedding all around yourself.

“Good night,” you call out, and he makes a grumpy noise of acknowledgment. 

Your head drops back onto the soft pillow, and you close your eyes, ready to sleep. It’s such a nice bed. The sheets are cool and soft against your skin and smell of fresh eucalyptus. The mattress is the most comfortable you ever remember resting on, firm but somehow soft at the same time. You feel like you’re sleeping on a cloud. 

Moments go by, and you revel in the sumptuous bed, waiting for the best sleep of your life to claim you. 

Except it doesn’t. 

Somehow… you still can’t fall asleep. Is it… too soft maybe? You turn in the bed, twisting your torso to get into a position you can comfortably sink into, but something doesn’t feel right. There’s no lumpiness like at home, but that should be a good thing. 

Except… despite the decadent softness of the bed. Despite the fact that the sheets probably have a thread count with more zeros than your checking and savings accounts combined. Despite all of the luxury that surrounds you, you still find yourself tossing and turning and wide fucking awake.

The bed is too big. You don’t know what to do with all this space. Your body is not accustomed to this sort of decadence. What if you suffocate sinking into this soft fluffy pillow in your sleep? What if you toss and turn until you fall off this massive bed and break your neck? Maybe that’s how out of all of the universe’s attempts to kill you, you end up dying? 

Fuck! 

You can’t sleep. 

You turn to your side and stare into the velvet lounge chaise on the opposite side of your room, where Miguel is. 

Quietly, you pad up to his still form until you’re standing in front of him and hunch over, trying to decide how rude it would be to wake him up again when there's nothing he can do about your stupid insomnia anyway.

In the dim light, you spot something glinting at you. Looking closer, you notice that the thin chain looped around his neck has escaped his shirt to pool on the fabric of the sofa cushion under him. You gently drag the loose end of the necklace toward you, and find a smooth golden band threaded onto it.

Picking it up cautiously, you flip it in your hand and find that there's something engraved on the inside.  It's hard to see in the darkness, but when you lean closer and squint your eyes, you can just make out what it says.

'MO'—undeniably the initials of one Miguel O'Hara.

Twisting the ring slightly, you find a tiny plus sign followed by your own initials, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach.

Oh.

The memory of sitting across Miguel at Starbucks returns to you, when you had asked him who you were to him. You think of the avoidant gaze and how he couldn't look you in the eye.

‘Something like that,’ huh?

Guess the other you wasn't just his girlfriend after all, you think, chest drawn so tight it’s painful.

Holding the wedding band in the palm of your hand, you slide down to sit down on the floor with your back pressed against the chaise lounge.

Your heart aches for the man in front of you and everything he's lost.  You really, really hope you're not going to end up as just another regret on his list.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: As always to my best friend @thirstworldproblemss I am half asleep and running on fumes. I'm wording things poorly but I just want you to know that I am very happy I have you. Thank you for being my friend and for the time we get to spend together. I have the most fun when I'm with you.

Also to @guruan who is my muse, my source of inspiration. This chapter is dedicated to her because have you seen this beautiful piece of artwork she did for EYEM?!

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Forgetting

Carol Danvers x fem!reader Warnings: established relationship, long distance, fluffy times, explicit language, implied sex (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: It's been nearly a year since you've seen your girlfriend and almost two months since you've heard from her. And you're beginning to worry that she's forgotten about you. After all, the universe is a big place.

357 days. That’s how long it had been since you’d seen your girlfriend. You tried to think of yourself like a military spouse. After all, Carol did used to be in the Air Force. And she did travel to far-away, dangerous places to protect people, with very limited communication for long periods of time. It’s just that her dangerous locations were in other galaxies instead of other countries.

You were used to her being gone or, well, as used to it as you could be. The longer her absence went on, the more used to it you got, but somehow it also became harder. When she first set off on this mission, she’d been in your galaxy, so communications had come faster and with more regularity. Less space and time for them to travel through. But the farther away she got, the longer it took her messages to get to you. You were lucky if you got one email a month.

It wasn’t personal. You knew that. She was far away. Even with the best technology S.H.I.E.L.D. could provide to a civilian, her communication with you was still slow and limited. But, god, you missed her. You missed her laugh. You missed the warmth of her next to you in bed. You missed the way she propped her leg up when she sat down, no matter what kind of chair it was. You hung on every word of her emails, going over them so often you’d memorized them.

It had been two months since Carol’s last email. It was a long time to go without communication, even for her. The irrational part of your brain was desperately worried for her. There’s no telling what kind of high-risk situations she got herself into out there. But you knew that if anyone could handle themselves against all the forces of evil in the universe, it was Carol. You also knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. would have contacted you immediately had anything happened to her.

Another part of your brain–equally irrational but much harder to talk down–worried that Carol had forgotten you. The universe that Carol traversed was huge. Infinite, even. She saw things no one else had ever seen. Met people and experienced cultures that were so different from ours on Earth that we’d never even dream them up. Who’s to say she hadn’t found somewhere–someone–more beautiful than here, with you? She saw entire worlds, the neverending canvas of space and time. How could it possibly be that, of all the things in the known universe, you were the one worth coming home to? You always worried that maybe, this time, you weren’t.

As you climbed into bed, missing, as always, the feeling of Carol’s arms wrapped around you, the rise and fall of her chest as she slept, you once again pulled up her most recent email. From 61 days ago.

Hi, baby. I hope all’s well on Earth. I’m sad I’m missing spring–you know it’s my favorite season. Are there apricots on the tree yet? Or just buds? I’d give an arm for an apricot right now. I’m farther out than normal, so you might not hear from me for a while. One of the Andromedas. 2.7 lightyears away, if you can believe it. It scares me a little to be so far away from you.

I know I’ve said it before, but it gets lonely out here. Sometimes I wish you could come with me, but I know your body wouldn’t handle space-time travel like mine does. Superhero probs. Also, it’s probably not fair for me to make you put your entire life on pause just because I miss you like crazy.

It’s so beautiful out here in a weird, quiet way. I wish you could see it. Yesterday, I passed a pulsar. A star carcass, as I like to call them. They’re these gigantic masses of spinning light that put out radio signals (which might interfere with how quickly you get this, fuck pulsars). You’ve never seen something so big. So big it’s almost hard to believe it’s really there.

Anyway. I’m rambling. I miss you so much. I always miss you, but this time feels harder for some reason. I miss the way your eyes crinkle when you smile. I miss the way your hair sticks up in the morning. I miss kissing you. I miss doing more than kissing you. I just miss you.

I’m not sure when I’ll get home, but I think about you every day, every second. Nothing in this galaxy or the next or the next compares to you. Please stay safe. Don’t be sad. Snuggle Goose for me.

I love you.

Carol

You fell asleep reading through the email, again and again, your phone going dark in your hand beside you as you drifted off. You dreamed of pulsars. You dreamed of Carol.

Hours later, you jerked awake, gasping, as you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey!” a voice said, calming, reassuring. “It’s just me.”

You’d know that voice anywhere. “Carol!” you squealed, grabbing her and pulling her onto the bed with you, holding her as tight as possible so she could never, ever leave you for so long again. “You’re home!”

You felt her smile against you as she buried her face in your neck, wrapping her strong arms around you. She smelled metallic, almost like gunpowder; you knew it by now–the smell of space. “Hi, baby,” she whispered, breathing you in. “I missed you so much.”

Still holding you close, Carol sat up a bit to just look at you, just take you in. She ran her hand along your cheekbone and pressed a warm kiss to your mouth. A kiss you’d been so desperate for, you thought you might die from relief. Her lips tasted like space, too, the way metal smells after rain. So uniquely her. How many other people could say they knew the taste of space?

“Are you crying?!” Carol asked, alarmed, as she brushed a few tears from under your eyelids.

You sniffed and mumbled, “I thought maybe you forgot about me.”

Carol pulled you to her chest, running her fingers through your hair, lightly grazing her fingernails against your scalp. You shivered at the sensation.

“Oh, baby,” she breathed. “I could never forget about you.”

“But there’s so much out there.”

“Mmhm,” she said, kissing your nose. “And none of it’s as beautiful as you.”

When she moved to stand up, you grasped her hands. “No, no! Stay here and snuggle!”

She laughed, grinning from ear to ear, as she pushed your hair back from your face. “I have to shower, Y/N. I smell like an asteroid.”

You leapt out of bed to stand next to her, looping your arm and hand through hers and leaning against her shoulder. You couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t get close enough. You never wanted to let her go.

“Can I join you?” you asked, blushing a little. After all, it had been nearly a year.

Carol looked at you lovingly, smiling softly, a few of her own tears building. She squeezed your hand and dragged you after her into the bathroom. “God, yes.”

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x Fem! reader

master list

the conversation of the century finally happens, grab your tissues.

**edited to add as a content warning— the major character death I talked about in chapter 12— happens within this chapter, if we remember, Tooty experienced heavy trauma to her abdomen……… this story has never and will never be a pregnancy fix all trope. — sorry it wasn’t labeled correctly the first time. **

no minors 🔞, talk of trauma, another traumatic event, miscarriage

a/n: this is a shorter chapter the next one will be longer and not out as soon. Thank you again to @sweetsweetjellybean for beta reading for me and helped me tweak this chapter @blueywrites who helped me months ago come up with this plot. And @jo-harrington who helped also. This story would be nothing without all the people liking and reblogging it— so T H A N K Y O U for continuing to read it even when it got dark, when weeks went by and there wasn’t an update in sight, I appreciate each and every single one of you. Here’s to our two dumbasses, finally figuring it out 🥂

“Eddie.”

  Your throat was bruised and weak. The slow painful flick open of your swollen eyes have you paralyzed with doubt. 

  Deceiving sight of a beaten man sitting in front of you with a hard cast covering his right hand, the fingers are deeply swollen and bruised, the nails tinged with dried blood.

  This wasn’t a version of Eddie you had seen before.

  His normal pale skin is purpling and raised around his cheek and left eye. His top lip is split and agitatedly red against black stitches, probably from him picking at it. 

  He was handsome, even with his face twisting into relief and sorrow. Tears flow down the colorful sunset painting of healing and broken skin on Eddie’s face. He stands quickly, leaning over you carefully.

  Quivering, timid hands reach for your cheeks, realizing the cast would probably scratch or scrape you, he settles for one hand laid dainty on your cheek, thumb stroking the skin like a ghost.

  The dark pools of his eyes pull you in as his tears fall freely, and your heart begins to sew itself whole again. As his lips meet your hairline he whispers a cut off sob of his worries. Your tears flow with his. Merriment of grief and comfort as you cry into his shirt. Wishing you could live in this moment forever. 

  A dark wave full of emotions crash down on you  all at once. The joy of seeing Eddie mixing with shame and guilt over what he must have braved while defending you. Finally, confusion on what exactly had happened and how you both ended up here and alive? 

  “You’re here,” you choke, a tubing clustered hand strokes Eddie’s face, “I was so scared,” you mumble weakly, “I thought we were d—” your throat tightens on the word and won’t release it, lost on a sobbing gasp that is muffled into his shirt as he pulls you into him. 

  The soft cotton of his shirt envelops you in a calming light state, the same smoky essence of Eddie washes over you, settling your hiccuping cries. His hand is stroking your hair, careful around the stitches. And if you listened close you could hear his heart breaking. 

  Eddie would find a way to melt the galaxies for you if you asked, hearing you crumble about the thought of him being dead is almost too much for him to handle. 

  “You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he says, strongly, firm toned to get his point across in as few words as possible, no need to go into detail about how it was done, you and the baby were safe and that’s what mattered, “he’s gone.” 

  Gone? Did he get away? 

  “Wh—-” you try your best to make any sort of sense register and click in your brain, but it’s not connecting, “Eddie?” 

  He took a deep weighty breath, the final swing of the wooden bat playing behind his eyes like a film in class, he watched Chad’s lifeless body slump to the floor, the dirty and blood riddled nails wedged into his temple like a knife through soft butter. The horrified expression Mr. Derry gave as blood splattered on the walls, and coated Eddie’s face. 

  He lowered his head and shook the image from his mind, “I took care of it,” he whispered gravely, “he won’t be bothering you again.” 

  The muddied storm in his eyes thunders as you comprehend his words. Would you be afraid of him? The same hands that held you so tenderly were also capable of murdering a man who nearly took your life. The thought of you being terrified of him tingles his spine and makes his knees weak, he turns away from you before you can see him cry again.  

  Chad is dead. And you want to scream at yourself when you feel remorse. He was terrifying. A real life in the flesh monster. Quite literally tried to kill you. All he brought to you was pain. And he was dead at Eddie’s hand. The nightmare finally over.

  He tried to hide the distressed pain burrowed deep in his face. He was everything the town always said about him. Satanic. Future convict. White trash, just needed to stitch  ‘murderer’ to the long list of insults he’d worn his entire life, like a cloak to shield others away from him. 

  With your head held high you wipe the tears from your eyes and pull Eddie’s chin to face you, and you’re surprised when he jerks away slowly. 

  You forget the time spent away. Finding it easy to fall into sync with him again, your Eddie. Would he ever be yours again? He’s been left out in the cold, sick from the frigid heart you peacocked off to him, boundaries up and lies in your head. 

  He was the most important person in your life. And it was time you told him so. 

  “Look at me, Eddie,” you coax, trying to make your voice seem velvety instead of the scratchy crack of desperation you currently are pleading to him, “you saved my life.” 

  The brooding deepens and he presses his lips tight together before looking at you, guilt and shame riddle his features, “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, closing his eyes, “I’m so fucking sorry,” the tears fall freely down his face, and he wipes them away hastily with the back of his leather covered arm, “I should have been there.” 

  The words stab like a knife into your soul. Everything happened because of your actions, your apprehensive heart. Eddie almost got himself killed and in turn had to kill your abuser, yet he was the one apologizing for not being there. 

  “It’s my fault,” you say weakly, reaching up to brush a tear away from his wet eyelashes, “I’m the one that pushed you away, and then… I’m sorry Eddie…I couldn’t..” 

  He pulls you into him, his lips skirting your hair line, kissing sweetly and soft like butterfly wings. He shushes you, and whispers that everything will be okay, and in that moment you realize you didn’t have to stroll the pearly gates to be his. 

  His eyes drop slightly to the blanket cozied up around you, flitting over your stomach. When his eyes find yours again, there are fresh tears, and a sad smile. It takes a nano second for the realization to hit you like a ton of bricks in the chest. A gasp breeches your lungs and guilt forms in the shape of tears in your eyes.  

  He knows. 

  Regret is billowing from your body and you try to cover your eyes, terrified of Eddie’s reaction to not only you being pregnant with his baby, but keeping it from him for months. 

  Outside of telling Eddie to leave and trying to convince him that you didn’t love him—- this was the hardest thing you’d ever done. But you told yourself he wouldn’t want to be a part of you with a baby in the mix. A baby that would ruin plans and put a halt to dreams. He didn’t need to be tethered to you because of one night. 

  One single night that you had been lying to yourself about— trying to ease away the pain of loving Eddie and pushing him away for his own good. People had been distancing themselves from you your whole life.. you were guarded and as hard as it was to let the barrier fall around your heart, it was just as easy to put it back up, barricaded in yellow caution tape of lies. 

  Unworthy 

  Before you can drift into a full fledged spiral Eddie’s warm hands find your cheeks and tilt your head upwards to look at him. 

  “I’m here,” his eyes search yours, and they flood with the warmth of the sun behind the black storm, “I’m not going anywhere,Tooty.” 

  The drop of an aluminum can and spray of carbonated soda fills the room behind a loud shriek, making Eddie jump and stand up, instinctively placing his body around yours, his back covering you in a leather shield, and you grab his hand between your fingers, an instant comfort to your panic.

  “STEVE!” Robin screams, her hands fly to her face like that little punk Kevin McCallister in Home Alone, mouth hung open in shock.

  Steve enters the room with a fancy company cell phone tucked between his shoulder and ear. A package of Oreos in his hands, “No, Jack— I don’t care how long it takes just fucking f—“ his eyes go wide in disbelief, and he slams the presses a button to end the call when you smile weakly and wave your fingers between Eddie’s at him.

  The next half hour is full of tears and hugs, calls to the Wheeler’s and the rest of your friends, letting them know you were awake. 

  The nurses flood in like a gaggle of cadets. Checking monitors and adjusting tubing. Letting you have your moment with your friends, explaining you were still going to be weak and the doctor would be by in a while to go over things with you.  

  Steve hasn’t stopped crying since seeing your eyes opened, blowing his nose every few mins. Robin talks enough for everyone, your throat still rubbing raw whenever you tried to say anything so you work with nodding along when asked questions. Eddie is unusually quiet, sniffing loud every now and then, offering you ice chips the nurses brought to you, a plastic spoon to your lips.

  “So what hap—” Robin starts and Eddie immediately glares at her, shaking his head and a firm “no” falls from his lips, and nobody tries to bring it up again. 

  Eddie didn’t want you getting upset, he’d protect you for the rest of his life if that’s what it would take. Fuck, he’d even be happy to sit in jail for a life sentence for killing that mother fucker. Pride swelling his chest knowing Chad was dead at his hand. Finally making his mother proud for protecting someone when he couldn’t do the same for her… and now there was someone else to protect. A tiny little someone. 

  The days you had been sedated he was beside himself. When he wasn’t in your room holding your hand and humming songs to you, he would be down in the gift shop. Thumbing through baby books, familiarizing himself with the favorite nursery rhymes of Mother Goose. His fingers traced the lace on a pair of tiny little white socks. Blue plastic baby toys that he found were called a rattle and made a clunky noise when shook. 

  He looked out of place. Torn jeans and chains hanging from his waist amongst the delicate pastels of the baby section, but he didn’t care. He made himself a promise. That when this was fall said and done and you were healed—he  would move you all into a new house. Out of Hawkins, away from this shithole of despair that only held bad memories. 

  And he intended to keep his word. 

  “Umm, I know it’s a little soon to figure this all out— but none of us want you staying… there, Tooty,” Steve says, blowing his nose one more time, hands on his hips in his typical mother hen style, “we didn’t know when you would… but eh…Leighanne already has the spare bedroom set up for you… and you can stay as long as you want.” 

  You hadn’t even thought about the house. But the thought of possibly having to go back there had you trembling. The smell of your own blood dripping onto the carpet filled your nose, Chad’s maniacal laugh…

  “Later,” Eddie says, shutting the conversation down by clearing his throat, his eyebrows pulled in and he tries to hide his worry again by wiping his hand down his face. 

  You’re thankful when visiting hours are through, your body aches and the bruises lining your stomach are tender, each movement making sharp bolts of pain shoot all over. Everyone says their goodbyes, you squeeze Eddie’s hand, a panic set lightning strikes in your eyes. You didn’t want to be alone. Not now. Not anytime soon. 

  He doesn’t pause, doesn't recoil. He stands tall, squeezing your hand, his eyes finding yours, a silent comfort washing over you as he whispers so only you could hear, “I’m here, always.” 

  He needed you to know how serious he was taking this. You, the baby, everything. He wanted to be there for it all. 

  Small waves from your friends and powerful hugs with murmured conversations between Eddie and Steve, leaving them both nodding and agreeing on something out of earshot. 

  The room feels small without them there. The elephant in the room hovering over you and weighing heavy on your chest, bigger by the second and you can’t wait anymore.

  “Eddie?” you croak, barely audible, vocal cords rubbing raw trying to speak. 

  The tears are already brimming in his eyes, he looks up at the ceiling, his thumb rubbing small patterns on the back of your hand, “when?” 

  You remember the exact day and time you felt something off in your body. Tired and achy all the time you couldn’t catch believe the amount of hours you could sleep uninterrupted. 

  The same calendar that once held your schedule for you and Eddie also held when your period was supposed to begin, but since Nancy had crossed Eddie’s name off you hadn’t even thought about possibly being late. Flipping through the pages you realized you were 3 weeks late. And blamed it on the stress. When February came and you still hadn’t gotten your period, you made an appointment with the clinic, and on the black monitor the doctor pointed out the tiniest baby growing in your belly, almost eight weeks along. 

  “When what?” You answered feebly, throat aching with each word. 

  Taking a deep ragged breath, Eddie looks at you, concern shadowing his face, he looks haunted, and depleted, “when did you find out you were pregnant?” 

  “Last month,” you clear your throat and reach for the ice chips, but Eddie helps you spoon them into your mouth. The ice melting on your tongue, pooling slowly and sliding down your throat to ease the ache. 

  “Eddie, I—” tears fall as you look into the hurt man’s whiskey colored eyes, “I was scared to tell you.” 

  He's blinking back tears, dropping your hand to walk around the room, landing at the window and pretending to look at the sky, “Did you think I wouldn’t care?” 

  A long pause between you is more than enough of an answer for him, and he sniffs loudly, “I’m not my dad y’know?” His voice hurt and wavering the delivery , “If you thought for a second that I wouldn’t give a shit about you or the baby, you’re wrong.” 

  Words you never thought would be said flow so easily from him, and you’re embarrassed you ever doubted him, “We aren’t together, Eddie,” you explain, letting the tears free fall, “I didn’t want to hold you back.”  

  Eddie scoffs and pushes off from the window, pouring his heart into his words as he explains his hurt,  “hold me back? From what the band? Tooty, I’ve been trying to prove to you for months that all I’ve ever wanted was you,” he moves across the room, sitting next to your legs on the bed, reaching for your closed fist to thread his fingers with yours.

  “Every part sweetheart, the good and the bad. Don’t you see that?” 

  Of course you did, but it was never that easy. 

  “I just— ” you couldn’t find the words, even though he deserved them, it was too much,  “I can’t even say that…how could I tell you that I’m pregnant after what I did and how I treated you?” 

  That night with Eddie blurred in your mind. He was gentle and sweet, you had never experienced such passion in all your life. It was everything you could have hoped for and more, but your scared heart ruined it. 

  “I’m a bitch, Eddie. Look at what happened to you because of me!” yoj gesture to his bruised beautiful face, and the tears flow quick down your cheeks, “you deserve someone who doesn’t hurt you,” you mumble, tearing your eyes away from him and looking at the ceiling tiles. 

  “Goddamnit Tooty, you are possibly the most stubborn person, biggest pain in my ass… but I have cared about you since you were 14. And I have loved you since the minute you opened up that front door and yelled at me.”

  You both laugh through the tears and he brings your chin to face him, his dark brown eyes swim with the glitter of fallen happiness, and he quickly blinks, “let me take care of you, sweetheart, both of you.” 

  It could be that simple. He loved you and you loved him. It wasn’t rocket science or poor willed fate. This was two people who cared about each other enough to look past all the ugly shit the world had to offer and chose to stick together. The epiphany sewed your heart closed and locked it tight, a branded “EM” on the lock and Eddie held the key.

  You grab him with more force than either of you were expecting and collide your lips with his. Tears and stitches fill the gaps where your tongue danced the last time these lips touched yours. But it was somehow sweeter than any kiss before. 

  “I love you, Eddie Munson…” you breathe, “but I swear I will cut that hair of yours down to the scalp if you try to name this baby ‘Ronnie Dio’, or ‘dragon slayer 86’ or whatever the hell you used to call yourself in your demon club in high school.” 

  For the first time in days, Eddie belly laughs, and kisses each of your cheeks, “ohh princess, don’t tell me your still jealous because Eyeball wouldn’t let you join?” 

  You cross your arms in a pout and Eddie laughs again, “there she is, that’s my girl.” 

  Pushing him away with a playful shove he comes back and kisses you again, both of you smiling and giggling, two idiots in love. With a wince, you scoot over in the bed and make room for him to sit with you, adjusting the wires and tubing around you both you snuggle into him, placing his hand on your belly where you assume the baby to be. 

  He snuggled into your neck and sniffs quietly. Content. 

  “Promise me something?” you whisper as your fingers thread through his curls, he nods into you, kissing your neck sweetly and humming a yes. It’s a big ask, and you’re new to this feeling, “please don’t ever stop loving me.” 

  Eddie’s grin is warm on your cheek as he sits up, looking so far into your eyes your souls reach out and hold hands, “I couldn’t even if I wanted too, baby.” 

  A knock on the door interrupts the moment and you both turn to see a doctor in a long white coat, and green scrubs. His face is jolly and caring, an instant comfort.

  “Ah yes, the nurses told me you were awake,” he says with a big smile, “it was pretty touch and go for awhile there but you look good considering what happened, how are you feeling?” 

  “Sore,” you answer, “everywhere.” 

  “That’ll be expected with the hellish ordeal you went through. Mr. Munson here gave us a brief rundown on what happened, and your injuries coincide that statement. We will be helping you both set up counseling appointments, usually with instances such as these, there will be panic and trauma that will develop from it. I urge you both to take them seriously.” 

  Eddie nods and answers for you, “yes sir.” 

  “Good. Now this soreness, is it generally all over or more localized in one spot?” 

  “I mean my head and face feel pretty awful, but mainly it’s my stomach.” 

  A small look of panic settles on the doctors face but is quickly replaced with a gentle smile, “we will schedule from scans for later today to make sure everything is okay, if you don’t mind— while I’m here,” he says, removing his stethoscope from his neck, “I’ll have a little check, alright?” 

  Eddie moves from the bed and settles by your shoulder,  briefly pressing his lips to your hairline, his warm hand rubbing your arm slowly. 

  “Just routine,” the doctor says, lifting your hospital gown to the top of your stomach, pulling the blankets down to the stop of your knees, “nothing to worr—” his broad smile fades and Eddie lets out a loud gasp. 

  The inside of your thighs and the sheet beneath you are soaked in claret colored blood. You don’t have time to register what is happening before the doctor crosses the room and begins yelling orders through the phone, “this is Dr. Newby, prep OR 2 for a D&E…possible c-section, I’ll need everyone available.” He hangs up with a loud click and turns to address you and Eddie. 

  “What’s going on?!” Eddie demands, fear stricken eyes almost onyx in color, his fingers gripping yours tight. 

  “She needs to be prepped for surgery,” he answers Eddie curtly but still politely. 

  You balk, “Surgery?! Why?!” 

  The doctor looks into your eyes with a sympathetic expression, “you’re having a miscarriage.” 

——

[0cta9on]

Unlikely Duet - 7

length: +7k words

Genre: Fluff

NewJeans Minji x Male Reader (OC)

(Author's Note: Finally, after almost 3 months of writing on and off, rereading and rewriting entire portions, and countless edits, I finally finished chapter 7 of UD :,] I'll get started on chapter 8 asap so it hopefully doesn't take as long. Enjoy!)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

Yuno’s POV

I inhale deeply, letting the grassy aroma and fresh evening air fill my lungs. The full moon looks down at us with its gentle gaze, reflecting its light on our intimate moment. Street lights flicker in the town below us, mimicking the stars hanging in the indigo above. Minji shivers next to me as a cool breeze whistles by, and I instinctively wrap my arm around her for warmth. Her cheeks light up with a pretty pink hue that lingers in my vision longer than it should have.

“It’s really pretty tonight,” she comments, glancing up at the moon. I nod, but all my focus is on the girl next to me, more beautiful than any celestial body could hope to be. The wind makes her long, black hair float and ebb like a stream of the finest silk, while the Milky Way traps itself into her irises, containing the beauty of an entire galaxy in just her eyes alone. Being here with her, nothing to interrupt our moment. Everything feels perfect.

“Minji, I…” As if she can read my mind, she turns to me, a knowing smile on her face, and shuts her eyes, awaiting my next move. With a quivering breath, I slowly lean into her, the warmth emitting from her skin growing ever warmer. The last thing I see is her lips before my vision fades to black, and then nothing.

I open my eyes to find Minji gone, replaced by my ceiling fan. My body jolts upwards in confusion as I grasp at the bed sheets beneath me. Instead of the grassy hill overlooking the town, all I see is the familiar layout of my bedroom, taunting me with its stillness. A disappointed sigh leaves my lips - just a dream.

My phone sits on my bed, still open on Minji’s blank messages. How pathetic of me. I spent all night wracking my brain for a response and couldn’t find a single thing to say. I hover tentatively over the keyboard one last time, desperately searching for the right words to say, before eventually giving up and sending a text to the group chat instead.

Yuno: Good Morning.

To my surprise, Yujin and Winter respond rather quickly.

Yujin: GOOD MORNING!!!!

Winter: good morning :)

Yuno: What are you two up to?

Winter: working :/

Yujin: im taking care of my grandma today!!

With the two of them busy, I’m left to figure out how to spend my Sunday alone. I click over to Minji’s blank messages one last time, my heart palpitating with an uncommon anxiety. Whatever this feeling is, love or otherwise, it’s getting old quickly. Everything feels confusing, and unlike most of my problems, I can’t solve it with brute force alone. What am I even hoping for here? A relationship? I don’t know anything about relationships or dating or how to be a boyfriend. Minji’s boyfriend, huh? That sounds kinda nice-

No. We’re too different. I don’t exactly have any good points to me either. I mean, Minji is like… a shining star - beautiful and radiant, but unattainable. And I’m like a sad cockroach looking up at that star, put on this planet because someone up there decided to play a sick joke. We’re just friends and that’s okay. Yet, the dull pain in my chest tells me otherwise. With a heavy sigh and a couple thousand unanswered questions, I shoot her a simple “Good Morning” text, because that’s what friends say to each other.

The sizzling of melting butter on a griddle and the heavenly scent of warm maple syrup grows stronger as I descend the staircase toward the kitchen, my tastebuds salivating at the thought of my favorite food - pancakes. My dad is in the kitchen, hunched over a cookbook with a surgeon-like focus, as a stack of warm pancakes sits next to him with two more cooking on the stovetop.

“Good morning, Yuno,” he greets me with a wide smile. “Cooked up breakfast if you’re hungry. Help yourself.”

I quickly take a seat at the table and stack a couple of them onto my plate, my stomach grumbling with a vicious hunger. As I go in to take the first bite, the scent of pancake wafts through my nose, taking me back to the first morning I woke up in Minji’s house. Despite us being strangers at that point, she let me crash on her couch so I didn’t have to run home in the rain, offered me warm clothes to sleep in, and made waffles for me the morning after so I didn’t go to school hungry. She didn’t have to, but she did, and it made all the difference in my measly little life. Minji is just so… incredible. And beautiful. And intelligent and kind and sweet and-

“Uh, are you alright?” I hear my dad ask. “You’ve been staring at your pancakes for a while now.”

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. “I-I’m fine.” That's a lie. I’m not fine. A girl, THE girl, is taking over my mind and my dreams, making my heart feel weird and my mouth feel dry. I like a girl that can’t possibly like me back and I’m just supposed to be fine with that. How do I even begin to explain this to anyone?

My dad sits across from me at the table and fills up his plate. The silence between us begins to grow as we eat, an air of unease and uncertainty filling the room. On top of my feelings for Minji, I now have to deal with my feelings regarding the state of my dad. It’s been years since I last saw him like this. He’s fine now, but what if he relapses? How did he even make such an abrupt change anyway when all I saw him doing was sleeping and drinking? I should be happy, but I can’t shake the feeling that he could just revert to his older self without warning. I can’t cling to hope for too long, otherwise I’ll be met with disappointment yet again.

“So, uh, I was thinking,” he says, nervously clearing his throat. “Would you wanna go to the mall later?”

I freeze like a deer in headlights, caught off guard by his sudden question. “The mall? Why?”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t wanna, I just thought…” He sighs heavily, dropping his expression to the floor. “I want to be your dad again, like old times, before your mother… left us. If you don’t want anything to do with me, I understand, but if it’s okay with you… I want a relationship with my son again.”

He looks into my eyes with a sincere expression, tears threatening to pour. A part of me wants to say no, to make up some lame excuse and wander the streets until it’s dark instead of spending any time with him. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am harboring some resentment for him for leaving me, a child, alone all these years, left to watch my one remaining parent shatter into a million pieces every day until he’s nothing but dust. Maybe I got so used to being alone that the thought of relying on someone else again makes me uncomfortable. Maybe I get into these stupid fights and aimlessly walk around the neighborhood because I know that the only person waiting for me at home is constantly drunk and sleeping.

Despite that, I don’t say no. I nod my head and utter, “Okay,” because the other part of me wants to have my dad back regardless of what he did. I want to be able to come home after school, into a home with the lights on, where the air doesn’t constantly smell like alcohol, and have someone, anyone, ask how my day went. I want someone to rely on when life gets too difficult to handle by myself. I want my family again.

So we eat our breakfast in silence. The uncertainty lingers, but next to it is a warming sense of hope, holding its hand in reassurance.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

Knock, knock, knock

“Minji?”

Knock, knock, knock

“Honey, are you awake?”

I finally sit up, rubbing the drowsiness from my eyes. “Now I am,” I yawn, stretching out my limbs. The clock reads 7:12 AM, about an hour after I usually wake up on the weekends. My phone lay face up on my bed, still on Yuno’s empty messages. Like an idiot, I waited all night for a response from him, but all I got was an hour less of sleep. Maybe I shouldn’t have held my breath for him.

My mother swings my bedroom door wide open. “Oh good, you’re awake,” she says, pacing around my room and picking up some of my laundry off the ground. “Go eat breakfast and get washed up. We’re going to the mall in a bit.”

“The mall? Why?” I ask.

“Oh, y’know… Just some clothes shopping,” she says with a peculiar smile. “We need to update that closet of yours, dear.”

Too drowsy to argue, I get out of bed and head downstairs, where my father is taking a call in the kitchen. Wisps of steam float from the mug of black coffee sitting on the counter next to him, untouched as he presses his phone to his ear with an intense focus. He mouths “Good morning” to me, gesturing to a plate holding a fancy-looking omelet. I dig in, unintentionally eavesdropping on my father’s conversation.

“Mhm. Tuesday you said? No, it’s not a problem at all. Yes, she will be there, I’ll make sure of it. Yeah. Mhm. No problem. We’ll see you then.”

Finally, he hangs up the phone and sits next to me at the dining table. Wrinkles of exhaustion decorate his face, likely from working early in the morning.

“Did you sleep okay, Minji?” He asks. “You’re usually up earlier than this.”

“I slept fine. I thought I’d get some more studying done after I got home and forgot about the time,” I lie. I can’t even imagine how furious he would be if I told him that I stayed up all night waiting for a text from a boy.

He grins proudly at me. “I’m happy that you’re working hard on your studies, but good sleeping habits will keep our brain healthy.” His phone buzzes in his pocket. “I’ll be right back, I have to take this.” He leaves the room, leaving me alone in the kitchen with my omelet and my thoughts. Maybe Yuno isn’t going to text me. Maybe I should text him first instead. But shouldn’t the guy text first…?

A sigh leaves my lips. I'm way in over my head with prom preparations already, I definitely don’t have any room for a silly little crush. Perhaps these feelings are just one of circumstance. We’ve been bumping into each other everywhere, so these feelings will fade if I just avoid Yuno for a bit. Sounds easy enough, right?

______________________________________________________________

The mall is always busiest on the weekends, full of families and friends looking for new deals while carrying around soft pretzels or pointing out attractive people who pass by. This mall, however, is a bit different from most, reserving its entire top floor for high-end designer shops. There isn’t any sort of membership or secret password that prohibits people from entering the top floor, but it generally stays barren aside from the few wealthy shoppers who can afford to do more than just window shop, including my family. The blatantly obvious segregation between social classes is disgusting, but I would be lying if I said I don’t like being able to shop without stumbling through the thick crowds on the lower levels.

“What do you think about this one, dear?” My mother pulls a black dress off the hanger, presenting its fine, intricate detailing to me. Shimmering black beads are sewn into the fabric, probably taking countless hours to place by hand.

“It’s very pretty,” I comment plainly. By all means, it’s a beautiful dress, but I much prefer something more comfortable.

“Why don’t you go try it on, dear,” she says, handing me the dress. I glance at the price tag, causing my eyes to go wide in shock at the $120,000 price point. 

“$120,000? Isn’t that a bit much for a dress?” I ask, concern painting my face.

“Nonsense, Minji. Don’t you want to look good for the party?”

My brow furrows. “Party? What party?” My mother’s gaze wanders, avoiding me completely.

“Well, there’s no party in particular, but you never know what will come up. Just try on the dress please.” She pushes me into the dressing room before I can ask another question.

Right as I close the door behind me, I feel my phone buzz in my purse. My heart skips a beat from the words on the screen - 1 new message from Yuno.

“AH!” I exclaim, nearly dropping my phone.

“Are you okay in there, ma’am?” A worker asks from the other side of the door. I can feel my cheeks heat up from embarrassment.

“I-it’s nothing! Just a, uh, a spider! But it’s okay! Ehe…” I silently cringe at myself as I hear the worker’s footsteps walking away. I just know Hanni would be laughing her butt off at me getting this excited over a text from Yuno.

With a trembling hand, I open up his text, which simply reads “Good morning.” It’s a short and simple message, yet I bite my lip, actively stifling a delighted squeal. An overwhelming sense of giddiness washes over me from those two words on the screen, my mind racing as  I try to think of a response.

Should I ask him how he slept? Maybe that’s a bit too intimate… Oh, what if he had a weird dream? That’s an interesting topic of conversation, right? No, that might be too weird… Maybe I should ask the girls for help. But they might just laugh at me. Oh god, what do I do?

Right as my thumb hovers over the keyboard to type up a response, I freeze. This isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing. Yuno and I are just friends, and that’s all we can ever be. I’m just far too busy for any kind of serious relationship, and my parents clearly don’t approve of him either. Even so, a small voice in the back of my head tells me to go for it, that it’ll work out if I try hard enough. Anything can be achieved through hard work, right? That’s what my parents always told me. A heavy sigh escapes my lips as my heart and mind devolve into war with no clear victor. I don’t even know for sure if he feels the same, yet here I am, getting all excited over his words on a screen.

A knock at the door snaps me out of my rambling thoughts. “Honey, are you okay in there? You’ve been in there a long time, I only gave you one dress to try,” I hear my mom ask.

“S-sorry!” I quickly toss my phone back into my purse and grab the dress off the hanger. Maybe I just need some time to think about it.

______________________________________________________________

“Thank you for shopping with us, Ms. Kim! Have a wonderful day!” The worker exclaims as we leave the store with a plethora of shopping bags and a long receipt to match. My mother takes a single bag, leaving me to carry the rest. My family definitely has the means to live a “comfortable” life, but even exorbitant purchases like these are uncharacteristic of them.

“Why... huff... do I... grunt… need all these clothes?” I ask, struggling to carry everything. “Isn't this... huff… a bit much just to update my closet?"

“Think of it as a gift from your mother, dear,” she replies, not looking in my direction. “I barely get to see you because your father and I are always working. Don’t you want to spend time with your mother?”

“I guess so…” But not like this, I think to myself. As we descend the escalator to the lower levels, the frequency of people increases, making it nearly impossible to take two steps without accidentally hitting someone with the bags. My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I offer an apologetic look to everyone who passes by.

Amidst the chaos, I trip over my foot, inadvertently sending shopping bags and expensive dresses flying everywhere. My mother continues on without even so much as a glance backward, leaving me to pick up the remnants of her wealth as passersby give me weird looks or downright ignore me. As if things couldn’t get any worse, a man snatches my purse off the ground and dashes toward the mall exit.

“H-hey! Give that back!” Of course, my words fall on deaf ears as the thief gets farther and farther. No one moves to stop him, too scared or confused to intervene. My phone, my wallet, the little knick knacks my friends have given me over the years, all of it is gone…

Out of nowhere, a person tackles the thief to the ground, wrestling my purse from his hands. The scuffle ends with the heroic stranger standing over the thief’s now unconscious body, a crowd surrounding and applauding his efforts. An overwhelming sense of gratitude fills me, and without thinking, I run over to my savior and capture him in a big hug,

“Oh my god, thank you so much for getting my purse back, I don’t know how I can-” Panic replaces gratitude as I look up at him for the first time. 

“Y-Yuno?!”

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

I glare at the black screen of my phone, taunting me by reflecting my own ridiculous emotions. My body is restless, itching for any sign of life, a vibration, a notification, just anything to quench my frustrations. And then it happens: the screen lights up with life. Frantic, I grab the phone, bringing it up to my eyes to read the notification.

Yujin: Heeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyy guyyyyyysssssss. I made kimbap for my grandma, what do yall think?

A photo of Yujin is attached to the text, depicting a clumsily put-together plate of what I assume to be kimbap. Out of the billion notifications I’ve received in the past hour, all of them have been from Yujin, and zero have been from Minji. My head drops in disappointment. Despite my own warnings, I can’t stop thinking about her. She plagues my mind with her pretty eyes and cute face and gentle voice and-

“You alright, Yuno?” My dad sits across from me at the table, his brow furrowed in concern mid-chew. “You haven’t touched your burger at all.”

I shake my head, gathering my bearings. ’50s rock music blasts from the speakers above, fitting the atmosphere of the 50s-themed diner we are in. With no plan in mind, my dad suggested that we get some lunch first, although his words fell on deaf ears since I was too preoccupied staring at my phone.

“It’s nothing,” I utter, avoiding his eyes. He sighs heavily, his expression darkening.

“Look, I… I understand if you don’t trust me completely, a-and I will work harder to earn your trust, but I don’t want you to suffer in silence,” he explains. “If something is going on, I want you to know that you can come to me for anything, no matter how big or small. I don’t have the answers to everything, but I’m here to listen if you need me.”

My lips part to speak, yet no words come out, hiding away in my throat, too scared to show themselves. I choke them down, guilt arising within me due to my silence. What am I supposed to say? “Hey Dad, you are right, I feel weird seeing you like this after so long and so suddenly, but also my life in general has just become so weird. In less than a week, I slept over at the student council’s president house, got two friends, beat two people in a fight, went to the fair for the first time, and I also really like the student council president. Maybe even love her, I don’t know.” This whole thing is ridiculous. I am ridiculous.

“I’m fine, really,” I assure him, and myself partially.

He looks at me, unconvinced, but doesn’t pry any further. “Alright, just… I want you to know.”

God, this sucks. I can’t even eat a meal with my own dad in peace because of my inability to function like a regular human being. Part of me wishes I could just pretend like everything is alright, but since when have I ever felt alright?

“What about you?” The words eject from my mouth without thought. Call it curiosity or not wanting to eat in awkward silence for the second time today, either way, the question is out there now.

“What about me?” My dad asks, rightfully confused.

“I mean…” Fuck, why is it so hard to talk? “You… You’re up and alive, I guess. What changed?”

He places his burger down and looks up with a thoughtful expression. “I, uh, went out for another drink one night and ran into an old friend from college. We just talked for a while, maybe even all night, just catching up like no time had passed. Y’know, he introduced me and your mom way back when. Seeing him reminded me of my old college days, living like I was on top of the world, and… I just knew something had to change.”

“That’s… great. Really.” And I mean it. A smile grows on his face at my sincerity.

“Yeah, it really is. He basically saved my life. I hope you’re able to find good friends like that, Yuno.”

My phone buzzes with a new message from the group chat.

Winter: that looks really great yujin :D

Yujin: hehe thanks !!!

A small grin grows on my face. Maybe I already have. If only I could get a text from one other friend…

______________________________________________________________

We walk into a clothing store full of people my age dressed much more stylishly than I am. I didn’t particularly need to update my closet, but the potential guilt of declining my dad’s offer to buy me clothes was too overwhelming. Besides, what else are you supposed to do at a mall other than spend exorbitant amounts of money on material things?

“Go look around. Let me buy you something nice for once,” he quips. His mood seems to have significantly brightened after our talk at the diner.

Looking through all the racks made me realize just how out of my element I am. Outside of my school uniform, most of my clothes are just sweats and hoodies - comfortable and don’t draw too much attention. Everything (and practically everyone) in here is basically a giant billboard that says “Hey, look at me!!!”

Then, something catches my eye: a forest green crewneck sweater with a bear wearing overalls screen printed on the front. I try to move on, but the beady lifeless eyes of the bear stare into my soul, demanding that I take it home. It’s ridiculous, It’s childish, it’s…

“I want it,” I blurt out.

“Really? This?” Dad chuckles, examining the sweater. “Didn’t think you would be interested in this kind of thing, but hey, what do I know about fashion?”

I cough awkwardly, my face growing warm. I didn’t know anything about fashion either. Hell, if I didn’t have the reputation I have, I would probably be a prime target for bullies if I wore that around. Out of everything in the store, why did I want that sweater? Who in their right mind would even like this sweater?

Minji. Minji would. Half of her bed is covered in teddy bears. I want that sweater because, for some stupid reason, I think it’ll magically make her like me. Or something. I don’t know. She hasn’t even texted me back yet, what good is a sweater with a bear on it gonna do?

Before I could protest, my dad hands me the sweater in a plastic bag, already paid for. “You wanna stop by a couple more stores?” he asks.

“Sure,” I concede, still feeling embarrassed. A part of me feels oddly glad that I took it, imagining Minji’s reaction to seeing the sweater. “Wow Yuno, your sweater is so cute, we should go out sometime!” Yeah right. Still, I can’t stop the small grin dancing on my lips.

“H-hey! Give that back!”

A familiar voice rings from the center of the mall. I glance upwards to see a man barging through the crowd, clutching onto a purse that definitely isn’t his. Without thinking, I spring into action, dashing towards him as fast as I can.

“Yuno!” My dad calls out from behind me, but his words are left unheard as I continue my pursuit. Right before the man reaches the exit, I jump onto a bench and dive at him, tackling him to the ground.

“What the fuck man, get off of me!” The thief yells. He lands a punch to the side of my head as I try to wrestle the purse from him. While it isn’t the hardest blow I’ve received, it’s enough to piss me off. I grab his throat, digging my fingers into his windpipe, nearly crushing it in my grip. He squirms underneath, the desperation welling in his eyes as he fights for breath. I reel back my fist and let it fly, aiming to crack his skull against the ground.

As my fist gets closer and closer to his head, time crawls to a standstill. Minji’s voice echoes in my head: “You’re a good person, Yuno. I just wish you would stop getting into trouble.” I mean, he deserves it, he’s a thief. He steals some poor girl’s purse, he deserves a good beating. And yet, I pull back at the last moment, knocking him out instead of outright shattering his jaw. While none of his bones are broken, he’ll surely be feeling that once he comes to.

The sound of scattered applause around me pulls me from my adrenaline-fueled haze. It’s only now that I realize people are recording me like a zoo animal, upholding me like I’m some kind of “hero” or something. In reality, I just did what they were too scared to do, but they’re too busy creating their own hyperbolic narratives to see that.

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrap around me in a familiar and oddly comforting anaconda grip.

“Oh my god, thank you so much for getting my purse back, I don’t know how I can- Y-Yuno?”

That voice. Is it?

“M-Minji?”

I turn to look at the source of the voice, inadvertently meeting her eyes, mere inches away. Thick-rimmed glasses adorn her face, like the ones stereotypical nerds wear. Technically, she is a nerd, but a really cute one. She still has me in her grip, but if I’m being honest, I never want to leave it. It’s like the warmth of a weighted blanket, but… cuter. God, I think I’m going insane.

Fortunately (or rather unfortunately), Minji lets go, finally giving me room to breathe. This weird, fluttering feeling in my stomach remains (Is this what people mean by butterflies?).

“S-sorry about that, uh… Th-thanks, Yuno…” She mutters, her gaze never leaving the ground.

“Y-yeah, no problem…”

“Yuno!” My dad calls out to me, running in our direction. “Jesus, you're fast… huff… Are you alright?” He glances over at the thief’s unconscious body as two mall cops drag him away. “You certainly did a number on him, huh? Impressive.” He pats my shoulder, giving me a proud smile.

The clop of expensive high heels draws our attention, growing louder and louder with each step.

“Minji! Are you okay, dear?”

Minji’s mom appears, checking her for injuries.

“I-I’m okay, mother. Um, you remember Yuno, right?” She awkwardly gestures towards me, leading her mom’s gaze. With her cold gaze studying my expression, It’s like I have a sniper dot placed firmly onto my forehead, ready to blow my brains out if I so much as cough in her direction.

“Ah yes, I remember. Thank you for getting Minji’s purse back, although I could’ve easily purchased another one for her.” Her lips curl into a smile, but I can clearly see the disdain evident in her eyes. It’s almost like she knows I can see it and is doing it on purpose.

“And you must be his father, I presume.”

“Yup, that’s me, I’m his dad alright,” he says with a friendly chuckle. “Ian Lin, it’s nice to meet you.” My dad extends a hand towards her, which she accepts with clear reluctance in her movements, although he doesn’t notice this.

“Well, I would love to chat, but we must get going. Minji dear, go and pick up the bags, we’re heading to the tailor to get your new dresses fitted,” she says to Minji before waltzing off without another word, leaving her daughter to pick up a mountain of shopping bags. Looking at her, it’s hard to believe that someone as unconditionally kind as Minji was born from that unassuming she-devil. Maybe Minji is adopted or something.

“I-I should get going,” Minji says, panting with exhaustion. “B-bye, Yuno.”

“Wait.” I reach out and grab some of the bags from her. “Let me help you.”

“Oh, you don’t have t-”

“I want to.” 

The words come out before I have time to think about them. Minji blushes as she hands a few of the bags over to me. Meanwhile, my dad whips over to the other side of her and offers his assistance.

“May I?” He asks, reaching his arm out towards the rest of the bags. Minji concedes with a sigh, shooting him a grateful smile.

“Thank you, I was, uh, really struggling before,” she admits.

The three of us follow loosely behind Minji’s mother. No wonder she didn’t text me, I don’t think I would have the luxury of breathing when I’m around a terrifying woman like that. Still, it does put me at ease a bit knowing Minji wasn’t exactly ignoring my text. Seeing her in person is way better than a couple of words on a screen.

“Minji, right?” My dad asks her, making small talk. “Are you and Yuno friends?”

“Yes, Mr. Lin, we are friends.”

Friends. The title feels bittersweet at best, but hearing her admit that without any hesitation in her voice makes my lips curl into a smile, which I hide with a fake cough.

“That’s great, I don’t get to meet a lot of Yuno’s friends. By the way, just call me Ian, Mr. Lin makes me feel older than I already am,” he quips, earning a chuckle from Minji. “I have to ask, what’s Yuno like at school?”

“Yuno is…” She turns to look at me, but my gaze is glued to the ground, too nervous to meet her eyes. “...a bit of a troublemaker…” Damn. “...but he’s a good guy.” Hell yeah.

“That’s good to hear. Y’know, he gets his personality from his mother.” His grin fades for a second before going back to normal. “And he gets his good looks from me.”

The two of them laugh while I silently cringe to myself, a dull throbbing hitting my temples. Never in a million years did I imagine the two of them ever meeting, let alone holding a conversation like this. It’s kinda nice in an off-putting way. Better than letting Minji meet him as a grieving alcoholic.

“Hurry up dear,” Minji’s mom calls out to her, walking into the tailor shop.

“Welp, this is my stop. Thank you for the help, but I can take it from here,” Minji says. She takes the bags from us, lightly gracing my hand, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. “Bye Yuno and it was nice meeting you, Mr. Li- er, Ian.”

A disappointed sigh leaves my lips as I watch her disappear into the shop. She was right there, close enough for me to catch a whiff of her lavender-scented perfume. I’ve been waiting all day for a text from her, yet my stupid feelings made me too nervous to speak.

“You like her, don’t you?”

My head snaps towards my dad, a sly smirk dancing on his lips. My eyes grow wide in shock, “W-what, n-no… I-I just, uh… W-whatever…”

“I know that look anywhere, Yuno. It’s the same one I gave your mother before we started going out,” he explains. My face sinks into my hands, the overwhelming urge to disappear consuming me.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

My family has frequented this specific tailor shop at the mall for numerous occasions over the years, we even went here to get my school uniform properly fitted before the school year started. The shop has one sole worker, a kind yet quiet old man. He’s skilled at his job, but my only issue with him is that he continuously pokes me with sewing pins while taking my measurements. 

“Mother, why do I- Ow! Why do I need so many new dresses for my wardrobe- Ow! None of these clothes are things I would wear casually.”

She sighs. “I suppose we’ll have to tell you eventually.”

“Tell me what?” I ask, my brow furrowing.

“We’re doing a business collaboration with the Park family and we thought it would be a good idea to hold a banquet this Tuesday to mark the beginning of our partnership. We haven’t seen them in a while, so we figured it would be a good idea to catch up.”

The Park family? “Okay, but if it’s for the business, then why do I have to go?”

“Their son, Sunghoon, will be in attendance, so we expect you to do the same.”

Sunghoon. Just the name alone sends a shiver down my spine. I thought I finally got rid of him after he moved away in middle school, but no. He’s finally come back to haunt me.

“U-uh, I have school that day a-and I have a test coming up that I need to study for and-”

“Your father and I think that the opportunity to network and make connections with influential people in the industry will be more beneficial to you than a high school test that you can make up anyway. Besides, don’t you want to see your old friend Sunghoon again? I remember how hard you cried after he moved away.”

No, Mother, those were tears of JOY. My parents have been close friends with the Parks since they attended the same college together, so naturally (and incorrectly), they assumed that their kids would be close as well. Sunghoon got along well with my brother, but he was an absolute menace towards me. He would call me names, steal my things, and talk bad about me to his annoying group of friends. No matter how much I cried to my parents about him, they always gave me the outdated, misogynistic line of “boys will be boys.” When his family finally moved away during middle school, I couldn’t have been more thrilled, literally crying tears of joy knowing that I would never have to see him ever again. But of course, fate is a cruel mistress, making everything go right for a couple of years before stabbing me in the back with a Sunghoon-shaped knife.

“But mother, I-”

“We’re just asking you to attend the banquet for a couple of hours and mingle. Why do you have to make things difficult?”

A dejected sigh leaves my lips. There’s no getting through to her at this rate. At least I have a day to mentally prepare myself before the banquet. Right now, I plan to say hi to him to keep up appearances and then avoid him like the plague for the rest of the event. Piece of cake, right?

My gaze falls to my purse, sitting on a bench a few feet away. A thought plants itself into my head like a seedling, growing and growing into a full-blown idea. Maybe there’s a way that I can make this banquet a little more bearable.

______________________________________________________________

The second we make it into the house, I kick my shoes off by the front door and dash upstairs towards my room, ignoring the calls from my mother to put them away properly. By the time we finished up at the tailor, my phone had somehow died in my purse, making me antsy the whole drive home.

I burst through my room, practically leaping towards the charger.

“Come on, hurry up,” I plead, praying that it will somehow make the phone turn on faster. Thankfully, it only takes a few seconds to light up with life. I quickly scroll through my messages, typing up a quick text to the person who will be most vital to plan.

Yuno: Good Morning.

Minji: heyyy! can i call u? i have something important to ask

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

I stop dead in my tracks, almost dropping the bag of groceries in my hands as I scan my phone screen over and over again. Does she really want to talk… to me?! On the phone? What could she want to ask me? Is she gonna-

“Hello? Earth to Yuno.” My dad waves his hand in front of my face, pulling me from my trance. “I can’t have you stand in the middle of the kitchen while I cook dinner,” he chuckles.

“A-ah, right. Sorry.” I move to put the groceries away, but he stops me.

“I can put the rest of the groceries away. It’s clear you would rather be doing something else right now.” He gives me a knowing smile as I briskly make my way towards the stairs, grabbing the bag with my new sweater in it. Right before I head up, I turn to my dad one last time.

“Um, thanks for taking me to the mall. It was… nice.” 

He chuckles to himself before waving me off. I go to my room and shut the door behind me, typing a quick reply to Minji.

Minji: hey! can i call u? i have something important to ask

Yuno: Sure.

An overwhelming wave of suspense hits me, filling my mind with an endless mountain of questions. My phone buzzes to life with Minji’s name and I quickly swipe to answer her call.

“Hello!”

Her voice rings clearly through the speakers like the soothing sound of a gentle breeze. I’m somewhat glad she didn’t ask to talk in person, otherwise, she would see the obvious blush on my face.

“H-hi. Um, what did you want to ask me?”

“Oh right! It’s kinda weird, but… Are you doing anything on Tuesday night?”

My heart thumps loudly in my chest. Is she asking me on a…?

“N-no, why?” I can’t stop my voice from quivering with nervous excitement.

“Well…” She sighs. “It’s a bit of a long story, but basically, my parents are holding a banquet for the family business on Tuesday and if you’re not busy, I was wondering if you wanted to go… with me.”

“A-as your date?” The words come out before I can even think to stop myself from saying them. You fucking idiot, why would you say that!? Minji is gonna think you’re weird now! “S-sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“T-technically speaking, you would be my… date.” 

A loooooooooong awkward pause ensues. My heart is beating so loud, I’m worried she’ll be able to hear it through the phone. TV static and white noise run through my mind as I stand in the middle of my room, frozen in disbelief.

“Um, hello? Yuno?”

“Y-yeah, I’m here, s-sorry,” I manage to croak out. “Why do you want me to go? Wouldn’t it be better if you invited your other friends instead?”

“There’s this guy that’s gonna be there and I would really like to avoid him, so I figured I could bring you instead of the girls and maybe he’ll… y’know.”

My heart sinks a little. “You want me to be there to scare him off?”

“...Well, when you say it like that, it sounds mean.” Her tone turns apologetic. “I’m sorry, Yuno, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to-”

“I’ll go.” Maybe I’m just a hopeless love-stricken fool who’s willing to toss away any ounce of self-respect I have left for a girl he likes, but it’s not like I’m doing anything interesting on a Tuesday night anyways. Plus, banquets usually have free food, and if Ms. Kim’s cooking is any sign of things to come, it’ll probably be really good.

“I’m sorry if it seems like I’m using you, I just really need a friend to help get me through the banquet. Y’know, it feels like I have to keep reminding you that we’re friends, Yuno,” she says.

I collapse onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling fan as it spins in place. “Sorry, I’m still getting used to having friends.”

“It’s okay, I’m probably not doing a great job at being a good friend. It feels like you’re always helping me with something and I haven’t paid you back at all.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“First, you saved me from that drunk guy in front of the convenience store, and then the spider in the Ferris wheel, and now today with the purse thief, and now I’m asking you to go to a banquet with me because I don’t want to see some guy. You’re always doing things for me and I haven’t done the same for you.”

“That’s not true,” I refute. “What about the time I walked you home and it started raining, so you let me sleep on your couch so I wouldn’t get sick from the rain?”

“See, I only did that because you offered to walk me home. You’ve done a thousand things for me, and I’ve only done one thing for you. I think I’m a pretty bad friend-”

“That doesn’t make you a bad friend at all!” I yell out without realizing it. Minji goes quiet, the only thing I can hear is my anxious heartbeat and her quiet breathing. “S-sorry, I-I didn’t mean to yell…” Fuck, I made it awkward. “I, uh… You’re not a bad friend, is what I’m trying to say. U-um, you’re very kind and understanding, even to someone like me. I know I don’t have a lot of friends, but I know for sure that you’re a good one. You help me out more than you realize.”

There’s a long pause before Minji speaks again. “...Okay, first of all, I don’t like being yelled at, but I will accept your apology since you had good intentions.” I let out a sigh of relief, but the ache in my chest still lingers. Her tone is much more serious than it was a second ago. “Second of all, what do you mean “people like you?””

“Y’know…” I think carefully before I speak, treading through eggshells while I search for the right words. “You said it yourself when we were at the mall, I’m a troublemaker.”

Minji sighs. “Okay, that’s my bad, but I also said that you’re a good guy. You can convince yourself that you’re a bad person all you want, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be lonely. I want you to be surrounded by people who love and care about you, Yuno.”

God, she’s so perfect. What did I do in my past life to meet an angel like her? “Th-thanks, Minji.”

“Of course. What are friends for?”

Friends. A word that felt so foreign and unattainable until recently. It still feels weird to digest, but a good kind of weird. The kind of weird that makes me feel excited for what’s to come, even though I have no clue what to expect. It’s like exploring an unexplored part of the world, no map, no research, simply traveling on pure curiosity alone. You might discover something frightening, yet you continue to dig because of the possibility that there’s something beautiful once you get to the other side.

Maybe “friendship” is as far as Minji and I are meant to go. Yet I continue to dig and dig through all these new, exciting, and terrifying experiences, because despite my whole internal monologue this morning about how we’re so different, about how she’s a shooting star and I’m a lowly cockroach, I desperately want to see what happens when I get to the other side. I am irrevocably, completely, and (most importantly) foolishly in love with Minji Kim.

[esthercore]

E-Whore (GN! Lewd Streamer Reader x HSR men with lewd intentions

Veritas Ratio | Sunday | Blade | Jing Yuan (different scenarios for each men ♡)

Kinda degrading terms used for reader simply because he would do it canonically, and i have a humiliation kink

Being a Trailblazer is amazing, but since it technically made you jobless, you needed some way to fund your shopping sprees when you visit new planets, so while some of your crewmates resort to farming calyx, you chose the easy way.

You had a hot body and you knew how to use it, making you an instant hit on the streaming site, moreover, as the site connected to servers in multiple galaxies, the chances of anyone you knew or will meet in real life knowing your side hustle are slim enough to never happen, right?

Wrong.

Despite Dr Ratio being a man of virtue and self-righteousness, he still has his moments where he is simply Veritas, a man with urges, annoying urges, and hormones that hinder his progress and goals, and despite him being able to overcome those distractions most days, today simply wasn't one of them.

So he reluctantly laid on his bed, putting up whatever porno that could get him going, till his eyes wandered out on the pesky ads flashing on the screen, beside the video he was jacking off to.

An ad for a streaming site, displaying a 'currently live' bouncy little thing stuffing their holes with a sizable vibrating dildo while making the cutest aroused faces as their body shuddered in pleasure. And out of character for him, his fingers automatically pressed on the link before his brain could even process it, as he got redirected to the streaming site.

Blink.

Blink.

"Ohh", he let out audibly, as he felt his dick twitch. It's you, the troublesome little trailblazer that was too foolish and defiant to hear out about their own stupidity, pouting and calling him pretentious (although that one was because of his mask), for when he told you 'how you're a hindrance for the work environment' when he first saw you in Herta's space station prancing around mindlessly, flirting and greeting the scientists during their working hours.

And now here you are, not only are you a pesky idiot, but also, a whore spreading their legs on camera for the whole world to see. But despite how low he thought of you, god did you look so good.

He let out low grunts, as he pumped the length of his shafts, pleased by the soft moans you were making on-screen, cute little whore, whining as a customer sent you a paid request to increase the vibration level, adoring the way your body shuddered.

So, stripping himself of his morals, he opened the token store, fingers moving as fast as possible to finish the payment as his fist was getting tainted by his precum as he sent you a tip, immediately hiking up to the stream's top donor, and despite him never consumed any lewd stream before the way your face lit up when you saw the big tip made him shiver in pleasure, ejaculating hard as you moaned out 'Ver' his username he put up in a hurry.

He laid there for a few minutes his mind hazy, and the post nut clarity hitting in hard, he really spent his money on an e-whore, him, the esteemed doctor ratio wasting his money just to hear you moan out his name.

And the worst of it was he knew he would do it again.

(Ps - He will call you whore or generally call your activities in private when he see you again irl)

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Repose

—

Time written- 10:51 p.m.

Jason Todd/fem!reader (Credit to Irenne on Pinterest)

—

The sting in his muscles when Jason so much as lifted a finger was nothing new to him. The healing bruises decorating his knuckles, the constant burning ache in his knees.

You’re getting old, Todd. You’d say to him.

Ouch, straight in the heart. He’d reply before cornering you against the nearest surface, giving you that cheeky smile that always made your cheeks rosy. Tell me I’m getting old again, see what other kinds of things I can get ya to say.

He liked to tease back, to push those tickle spots. adoring to make you laugh whenever he had the chance. Any positive reaction he gained from you was another gold star on his chart, a positive outlook on his conscience so grand, the galaxy would get jealous in a few months at most.

Watching you sleep enveloped his mind in a calm serenity he believed he couldn’t obtain anywhere else. A satisfaction of seeing the person you love committing such a simple action as sleeping was…

He wasn’t sure how to describe it.

All he’d know is he’d watch for hours without interruption, a content little smile remaining permanent on his face.

The comfort of your presence nearly allowed Jason to ignore the ache in his joints, the healing bruises and bandaged cuts you aided him with. His slightly injured, throbbing head slowly soothed from a few rapid release meds, provided by your little stash kept in a cross labeled medical in your dresser.

You made the ‘mistake’ of offering Jason a lollipop, typical pediatric doctor behavior.

He plays into it, asking for a scented sticker instead. Or a kiss.

You didn’t have any stickers, so you’re forced to settle per your dangerous boyfriend’s request. One kiss turned into another, shifting into Jason’s hands cradling your plush, warm hips, sitting you in his lap after a couple of encouraging nudges.

You advised against it at first, due to his injuries, but Jason couldn’t help but insist.

“Jay?” Your eyes squint in the darkness, catching the faint rays of moonlight reflecting off the white streaks in his tussled hair. Your red teddy bear stares down at you, gifting your bare body a warm squeeze against his.

“You okay?” You croak out a whisper, growing a little worried as to why he was awake at this hour. Like your tired brain could fully acknowledge the time, really.

Jason nods once. “Yeah. M’okay, babe.”

“Do you have to go?” Your sweet, tired voice tugs at his sore heartstrings. You never wanted him to leave, dreading laying in bed all alone while watching him get dressed. As much as you admired his physique, it most likely ends with some kind of cut to clean and kiss better.

You wanted him to remain right where he was: in a safe space, a warm meal in his belly, his wounds tended to, his body resting after various limbs grew tangled within each other’s.

Jason was here. He was here, he was safe. His heartbeat usually lulled you to sleep, but tonight you settled for a pillow to keep the pressure off his chest.

“No no,” he replies, trailing a few calloused fingers along your cheek. “No, I’m stayin’ tonight.”

Your tired smile grows when he kissed your concerns away, his nose brushing along yours as his pecks trail from one on your cheek, towards another on the top of your head.

“What’s wrong?” Your exhausted mind remains ever so vigilant on his behalf, feeling both heart warmed and a little guilty. He’s supposed to tend to your needs, but it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it.

He needs to give you a day. A day full of appreciation for all the hours you’ve spent doting on him, taking care of him like this. He wanted you to experience just how much of an absolute cherub you’ve been, kissing his cheek repeatedly while settling your head along his shoulder.

“Shh shhh. Nothing, babygirl.” Jason rasps, pressing a warm kiss to your temple before reinforcing his hold, rubbing soothing circles along your back, gently cradling your head against his good shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”

[reidsdimples]

After Hours

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+🔥

Spencer Reid Smut ‼️ Friends to lovers

You sneak Spence into a public library after hours🫢

“We can’t be here right now,” Spence whispers as he glances around the dimly lit street.

“Shh,” you shush him.

You grab his forearm and urge him to follow you to a small door at the back of the brick building. You furnish a single key and quietly unlock it.

“Where did you get that?” His pushes.

“I know a guy who knew I guy that worked her,” you grin mischievously. “Come on, you know you want to,” you elbow him and push the door open.

The library has been closed for hours and you’re enjoying making Spencer squirm as he wars with the thrill of getting into a library that’s closed and the moral dilemma of trespassing.

“I am only agreeing to this to see those books they keep in the temperature controlled cases,” he sighs and slinks into the small room behind you.

You and Spencer have been friends for a few years, working closely in the BAU, and bonding over your own interest in law and his knowledge in well… everything.

He pushes some strands of hair from his forehead with long delicate fingers and adjusts his shoulder bag. His hair is shorter than usually but it suits him.

“You do know the penalty for trespassing in Washington, DC is a fine and up to 6 months in jail,” he turns to you.

“I think we’ll be alright,” you grin and tap your badge.

After about an hour of roaming the shelves, he finally becomes more relaxed. He’s crouch on the floor, examining a stack of old documents from a filing cabinet. Books are scattered around him chaotically.

You watch for a moment as his fingers work to trace over the text, his brain working exceptionally quick to intake the information instantaneously. You always find yourself amazed at the way his brain works.

The small crush you’ve harbored for him has been tucked tightly away. Keeping things professional is essential in the line of work the two of you share and you won’t jeopardize the friendship. Still, you allow yourself moments to admire him in all of his beauty.

His tongue darts out and swipes his bottom lip like it always does when he’s focused, his brow furrows slightly as he reads, and he mouths words here and there. He rocks back on his heels and sits on the carpet next to a bookshelf.

“Okay brainiac, I have a game,” you bounce into the room hold the stack of books. He looks up at you curiously, his brown eyes like honey in the dim light. You swallow.

“A game?” He asks.

“I found the most random and niche books I could, I’m gonna hold them up and you’re going to give me a synopsis. I’m positive I’ve found one that will stump you,” you smile and sit with your criss crossed in front of him.

“I haven’t read every book,” he starts. You raise your eyebrows at him. “Just most of them,” he shrugs.

You hold up a book about gardening and he gives you a run down of it.

“Why did you read this?” You ask.

“I skimmed it in high school,” he appears please with himself. You hold up another;

“Let me save you some time,” he grabs the other six books. “Lovers during World War Two, the rise of buddhism in western culture, lame romance about a cowboy… who dies at the end…” you snatch the book from his hand.

“You are insane!” You laugh. He smiles and holds up another.

“Julie is married to a man but is in love with his brother and noone has a happy ending,” he gives you a cocky grin but continues. “Inside Richard Ramirez’s life and…” he flips the last book over. “Oh, sci-fi about a journey to the Cigar galaxy,” he finishes.

You snatch it, examine it, and then throw it at his chest.

“What was that for?” He laughs and rubs his hand over the spot you hit.

“You’re too smart for your own good,” you sigh in defeat. He collects the books from around you, his knees knocking into yours.

A spark of heat seems to be exchanged from the touch, his breathing hitching so low that you almost miss it.

He glances up at you for a moment, searching your eyes as a strand of hair falls over his own. You reach out instinctively and push it back.

Your hand lingers in his hair for a moment, your fingertips grazing his scalp. He sucks air between his teeth as though the sensation is shocking to him. You lean forward and push your hand further into his hair, you don’t know why but you feel the need to touch him. He doesn’t protest, he’s staring at your lips.

The two of you gravitate closer, your heart pounding when his hand runs up your arm and entangles your hand further into his hair. He’s urging you to tug, to massage, it feels too good. His hand on yours, laced with your fingers, you oblige and take the control, you push his head closer to yours, overwhelmed by the small noises he’s making in the base of his throat.

His jaw tenses and he’s done with restraint. He drops the books and closes the rest of the space between you, leaning up on his knees to kiss you. You drop your hand from his hair and meet him there, winding your hands into his dark button down shirt, tugging on his loosened tie.

He tastes like mint, like heaven and earth collided, his lips soft and warm. A moan escapes your lips when his hand grips your hip, the other winding into your hair. You can’t believe what’s happening. You don’t want it to stop.

“Spence,” you whimper and pull away to look into his eyes pleadingly. Your grip still from on his tie. He nodded, understanding what you’re asking.

You push him backward, forcing him down onto the floor, a small laugh escaping him. His eyes are wild, his hair tousled, his lips reddened from the kiss, and he’s lying below you allowing you to take control.

Fuck.

You straddle his hips, papers and books being kicked around beneath you. Both of you are panting with need when you kiss him again.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. You pull his shirt open while his hands caress your body, long fingers trailing up and down your spine and hips. It drives you wild, sending heat gathering between your thighs.

That heat builds up so quickly when you begin to kiss his bare chest that you have to grind down onto his growing erection to appease the need.

He tilts his head back, reveling in the feeling of the friction.

“So…” he swallows when you rock your hips again. “So good.”

He pulls your tight sweater up over your head, greedily taking in the view of your breasts in the lace bra. His face is red, he’s burning with need too.

You fumble with his belt and finally pull his cock free, the sight and size mouth watering. You push away the thoughts of Hotch reprimanding the two of you for what you’re about to do. Yet the thought of sinking down onto him is too overwhelming. You don’t care about anything in that moment, but getting him inside of you.

“We’re going to be in so much trouble if someone finds out,” you muse as you tear yourself free of your own pants. He leans up on his elbow and tilts his head as though he hadn’t thought of that yet.

“So no one finds out,” he demands. It takes you off guard when he pushes himself up and takes you to the floor, pinning you beneath him. His eyes darken, his gaze more primal when he leans down to kiss your neck.

His hard cock prods at the entrance of your vagina, your wetness soaking the tip. He slides his cock upward, between the lips teasingly, coating himself in your arousal. Your lips meet and your tongues fight for dominance as he groans. You reach down and grab his cock, stroking it in warning.

“Give it to me Reid,” you bite out.

He smiles but obliges. He pushes himself into you, slowly so that you can stretch around him. You buck your hips up, taking him off guard. He slams his other hand onto the floor to steady himself, the raw pleasure of being seated completely inside of you stealing his breath.

He throws his head back and works himself out slightly before pushing back in.

“Fuck, Spence,” you moan. His shirt is hanging open but you kiss and suck at his chest while he finds his sweet sinful rhythm.

He pushes your legs up and open wider, slamming deeper into you until you’re crying out into the empty library.

“Shhh baby, you’re taking it so good,” he whispers. He doesn’t stop his hard pounding into you, drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

You tighten around him, a warning of your impending orgasm. He smiles knowingly and gives you long slow strokes to ride it out to. Your nails dig into his back as your legs wrap around his hips, greedily taking all of him while you explode around his cock. You pulse around him, squeezing, and practically begging him to cum too.

“Ah-“ he shutters and slows his pace. He doesn’t want to cum yet. He grunts and grabs a fistful of your hair before pushing himself back into you.

He buries his face in your breasts, abruptly biting hard as his hips wind and work his cock in and out of you. He nips at your nipple, causing you to tighten around him. He grins into the soft skin, breathing hard against you. Your hands are in his hair again, holding on as another organs builds within you.

“Reid…” you moan. But he bites you again, thrusting hard as though he needs it more than life, more than oxygen. “Spencer I’m going to cu-“ you don’t get to finish the words.

His hands wind into your hair, yanking your head upward and back and he drives into you with unrelenting speed.

“Fuck,” you swear he groans under his breath.

Your orgasm comes over you without mercy, ravaging your core, blinding you with pleasure, and causing your legs to shake violently around him. He whimpers as you tighten impossibly tight around him and it consumes him.

His hips sputter as he erupts inside of you, pumping you full of him. He slides in and out of you, rolling his hips a few more sinful times as though to enjoy the sensation. As though to solidify the memory of how it feels to be inside of you.

His kisses you deeply and buries his face in the crook of your neck as you hold each other.

Neither of you want to be pulled from the moment, so you lavish in the afterglow in each other’s arms.

[agi-ppangx]

the boy who turned my head (lee minho x fem!reader)

word count: 1,6k author's note: this is the last fic in 2023. thank you for your constant support, i wouldn't have done anything without any of you<3 i hope 2024 will be kind for all of us. i'll try my best to continue this wonderful tumblr journey with you by my side. i love you all<3

it all started with a song.

it was pretty late and the party had been going for a few hours. the alcohol in your veins made your brain all fuzzy and it wasn’t long before you ended up on the dancefloor, forgetting about the world around you as you swayed to yet another song blasting from the speakers. you felt happy as you threw your hands in the air, laughing loudly.

then the songs changed and everyone’s attention shifted to the boy in the middle of the crowd, grinning widely while dancing to bruno mars’ song. people cheered as the boy smoothly performed the dance steps and you did too, until he locked his eyes with yours and you stopped in your tracks. the world around you collapsed as it was only you and him left. the boy smiled at you and took your hand and, well, swept you to the middle of the dance floor. and you let him, of course you let him - he was just so charming and his smile was so mesmerising and he looked at you with the literal galaxies in his eyes and- 

“kiss her!” someone shouted from the crowd, loud enough for the boy to hear. he looked at you with a giddy smile, resting his forehead on yours. 

“may i?” he mouthed, searching for the answer in your curious eyes. you blinked a few times, thinking about it, and then without any warning leaned forward to capture the boy’s lips in a passionate, yet a bit messy kiss. you squished his cheeks with your palms, earning a little giggle that escaped his mouth right into yours. and you stayed on the dance floor long after that, your steps becoming more and more wobbly, but you knew he wouldn’t let you fall. 

“can i have your number?” he asked you in the morning as you were heading to the exit, the sun lazily creeping out from behind the horizon. your head hurt, your phone was dead and you were still drunk. 

“my number…? i, um- wait, what’s your name?” you mumbled, looking at him with glassy eyes. 

“it’s minho,” he chuckled, blushing slightly. he must’ve had a greater tolerance for alcohol, because except for his goofy aura he looked perfectly fine. 

“oh, right! so, minho, unfortunately i’m too drunk now and i forgot my number,” you started, wobbling a little on your feet. minho quickly wrapped his arm around your waist, helping you stay stable. “so maybe you should ask chan? i’m sure he has my number somewhere in his phone.” he nodded, letting out a little “ah”.

“will you get home safely?” he then asked, scanning your rather pathetically looking figure. you smiled, nodding. 

“yeah, my friend- she should be here any minute now,” you slurred, seeing the familiar car pull on the driveway. “oh, she’s here! see, i told you,” you grinned, patting his arm a few times. “see you soon, minho,” you waved at him, slowly making your way to the car, leaving the boy behind you. 

“who was that?” your friend asked curiously as she noticed your giddy smile. you looked at him one last time before she drove off and you sighed dreamily. 

“a boy who turned my head.”

. . . .

the cold wind made you shiver as you stepped out of changbin’s house. you were wearing that short blue dress that minho liked so much, but he wasn’t particularly interested in it anyway. throughout the whole party he’d acknowledged you once, only saying a vague “hi” to you. 

it’d been going like that for months. since the very beginning your relationship with minho was constantly balancing between friendship and something more. one day he was all over you, taking you on dates and holding your hand for the whole time, only for him to ghost you for the next few weeks or dismiss you with short messages. he showered you in gifts, kissing your forehead and smiling like a teenager in love, but whenever a sweet old lady in the store would call you such a cute couple, minho would immediately cut her off, saying that she’s only my friend. and it made you confused and hurt - didn’t he see how much love your eyes contained for him? didn’t he see how hard you fell for him?

“yn? where are you going?” you heard minho’s voice behind you. he placed his hand on your shoulder, stopping you before you had the chance to walk out. it was getting close to midnight - you could’ve waited to celebrate new year with everyone and then go, but you’d had too much. 

“home. i’m kind of tired,” you shrugged your shoulders, dropping your head not to make eye contact with minho. the wind blew again and you covered yourself with your arms. why didn’t you take something warmer with you? 

“oh, here,” he said, taking off his jacket and trying to put it on your shoulders, but you took a step back. It left minho dumbfounded, his mouth opening and closing a few times as if he was trying to say something.

“i don’t- i don’t want your jacket,” you mumbled, your voice already breaking a little. great, you thought. “i told you i’m tired.”

“yeah, but what does it have to do with me giving you my jacket?” minho chuckled, trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit. to say he was confused would be an understatement. you sighed loudly, looking around. was he really that blind?

“it’s not about the fucking jacket, minho!” you snapped, feeling defeated. your eyes started to get glassy, tears slowly forming in the corners of them. you shook your head, trying to calm yourself down. “i’m tired of you treating me like a toy,” you whispered the last word, taking in a sharp breath. “you always come to me whenever you feel lonely and then ghost me when your needs are met. but you somehow completely missed the fact that i, in fact, am a human being myself and i-” you stopped abruptly when minho stood right in front of you with a frightened expression. you looked him in the eyes and suddenly the world around you vanished, just like the day you first met. 

“do you really feel used by me?” he whispered in disbelief, his voice so quiet and weak that you almost felt bad for him. you let out a shaky breath, a single tear slowly falling down your face. 

“i- no, it's just- we do all of that cute stuff together, we cuddle and we go on our little dates and i thought it meant something to you,” you mumbled, wiping your face. you heard some noise from inside the house and you knew midnight was getting closer. “i just feel really dumb, you know? i fell for someone who doesn’t even care about me,” you chuckled dryly, taking a step back and trying to walk away, but minho was quicker. he wrapped his hand around your wrist and in a smooth motion brought you to his chest, hugging you tightly. 

“i’m so sorry, i- i was scared, i was so stupid,” he rambled, combing his fingers through your hair. you stiffed, not sure what to do next, though it was nice to feel minho’s arm cradling you again. “i was afraid i’d lose you, that you’d leave me if i got too vulnerable.” you wrapped your arms around his waist, squeezing him gently as he continued. you inhaled softly his cologne and it made you cry a bit more. that’s how home smells for you. “i never wanted to make you feel this way, i’m so sorry,” he whispered another apology and you just stood there, unable to form a sentence. minho mumbled i’m sorry and please forgive me over and over into your hair like a mantra and it made you smile faintly into his chest. 

suddenly you heard people shouting inside the house and you realised that they were counting down. you thought quickly, trying to decide what to do. 10, 9, 8. you pulled away from minho’s chest slightly so you could look him in the eyes. you realised he was crying. 7, 6, 5. you cupped his cheeks, wiping the tears that had fallen. you smiled at him and he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. he looked as if he tried to take as much as he could from that moment, like it was meant to be taken away from him forever when the clock strikes midnight. 4, 3, 2. you leaned forward, letting your foreheads touch and minho snapped his eyes open. he looked confused, but a smile finally appeared on his face. 1, 0, new year! minho’s lips crashed into yours, taking your breath away, but you let him, of course you let him. now it was quiet, only the two of you left on the planet as you kissed with the same lust as the first time. 

you were the first to pull away, desperately gasping for air with the biggest grin plastered on your face. minho cradled your face gently. his entire world fit in his hands. 

“let’s say it’s forgiven, not forgotten,” you whispered. “you don’t have to apologise anymore if you promise me to work on your behaviour.” minho nodded at your words, kissing you again as if he tried to seal the oath.

“now you can actually give me the jacket, i’m freezing,” you said with a giggle and he chuckled, placing the material over your shoulders and you happily inhaled his scent one more time. you were home again.

taglist !

@lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01 @hannahhbahng @prettymiye0n @ggsez31 @laylasbunbunny @like-a-diamondinthesky @axel-skz @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @l3visbby @skzhoes

[xmanicmushroomx]

mirrors || eijirou kirishima

tags: fem!reader x eijirou kirishima, established relationship, mental illness, fluff, comfort, mha, bnha

cw: reader has an eating disorder [anorexia], depressing thoughts, difficulty facing the mirror

your head is spinning. your stomach feels like it’s on a roasting spit, constantly turning with nausea. your body is achy all over. everything. hurts. that’s all you can think as you lay down in your room, curled up in a ball on your bed, staring at the wall.

training in your third year at ua has been nothing short of demanding, and with your recently diagnosed eating disorder, it’s been especially hard.

against your better judgement, you heave a sigh and sit up, gripping the edge of the mattress. after waiting a few moments to steady yourself, you stand up and walk to the other side of your dorm, grabbing a water bottle and taking a sip in hopes of settling the unease in your stomach.

you frown as you glance at the mirror next to your desk. capping the bottle and setting it back down, you square your shoulders and situate yourself in front of your reflection, hesitantly pulling the hem of your shirt up.

tucking the end of your shirt into the band of your sports bra, you pinch the skin of your stomach gently. you can’t help but feel disappointed when you’re able to grab enough skin that it actually gathers between your fingers.

am i not doing enough? no. that can’t be it. you’re in hero training, for fuck’s sake. your workout routine is practically religion at this point, followed to a T and then pushing yourself to do more.

am i not good enough? am i just… too fat?

the questions ricochet around your brain until tears gather in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks with silent sobs. you grip your hips, staring at your reflection with disdain. your hands move down to palm your thighs, inhaling shakily.

a knock on your door has you immediately pulling your shirt back down and wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks. “c-come in,” you call. dammit. that came out way too croaky.

your door opens slowly, and you watch your boyfriend walk in. eijirou looks over you immediately, taking in your puffy eyes, your quivering lower lip, your position in front of the mirror. it takes him mere seconds to put the scene before him together, and he frowns. “oh, baby,” he whispers, his voice empathetically pained. he crosses the room in three long strides and envelopes you in a hug.

you break down all over again, tears wetting his t-shirt, shoulders shaking, your entire body giving out as he holds you against his lithe frame.

eiji’s known about your struggles with your body image and eating since the two of you were in first year. he was at your appointment last month when you were diagnosed with anorexia. he’s been there for you every step of the way, always quick to shield you from any of your classmates’ prying questions.

he gently guides you over to your bed, sitting on the edge and pulling you into his lap. he rubs soothing circles into your back. “it’s alright,” he promises, his voice soft and sweet. “i’m here, baby. you’re going to be alright. it’s going to get better.”

you lean back on his lap, shoulders slumped, still sniffling. “but what if it doesn’t, ei?” you whine. you don’t want to argue with him, but getting ‘better’ feels unattainable. you’d compare the idea to another galaxy — visible, if you’re looking with the right lens, but light years away and impossible to reach.

“hey,” he urges you softly, “you can’t think like that. if you don’t believe it, then your body won’t, either.”

he’s been paying attention. your therapist said the same thing to you a few weeks ago. you sigh deeply, wiping at your wet cheeks. “it’s just… i don’t know. it’s hard.” your admission is quiet, your voice shaking.

eijirou smiles softly, intertwining his fingers with yours. “no one ever said it’d be easy, love. but i’ll be here for you, every step of the way. i promise.” he brings your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it softly.

warmth flushes your cheeks. he continues to press small kisses to your skin, trailing his lips up your arm, lifting the sleeve of your t-shirt to kiss across your shoulder and up your neck. “babe,” you giggle, gently pushing at his chest.

“nope,” he mumbles against your skin, his sharp teeth grazing your collarbone. “i’m making my girl feel better.”

a smile gently lifts the corners of your lips, and you sigh. “what would i do without you, eijirou kirishima?” you ask teasingly, tangling your fingers in his spiked hair as he continues to pepper kisses along your jaw line and the base of your throat.

“don’t know,” he chuckles. “wanna come with me to bully bakugou into whipping something up for dinner?”

your stomach grumbles painfully, and as weak as you feel, you know you need to get something in your system before you end up in recovery girl’s office again. “okay,” you relent, gripping his hand and standing up from his lap.

eijirou grins, pulling you toward the door. his hand encircles the knob before he turns back, abruptly pulling you into him by the back of your neck. his lips crash against yours, and you two stay like that for as long as you can, only stopping when you’re both gasping for breath.

“okay. now we can go,” your boyfriend declares with a smirk.

you huff as he pulls you along. “you better finish that after we eat,” you warn him, squeezing his fingers.

it’s an empty threat, and he knows that, but it still makes him laugh. “anything for you, babygirl.”

a/n: this scenario is dedicated to my little sister. she read and helped me edit this, so i owe her a huge thank you!! i love you so much, B.🩵 additionally, if anyone ever feels they need someone to talk to, I AM HERE [shamelessly typed this with all might in mind, btw].

♫ inspo while writing: smaller than this by sara kays

[yurinaa-world]

Can I request an Part two of Argenti x fem Vash like reader and maybe x Boothill too? Like since Argenti met Vash reader what if they meet Boothill too? Like how he was trying to find Vash reader due to their bounty over their head and finally found them when Argenti gave them a gun to vash reader from the last interaction with Argenti and Vash reader, this can be the reason why Argenti and Boothill fought for each other about how they fight over who tried to capture Vash reader when the readers goal was saving many lives as possible and stoping their twin brother knives (knives is the very reason why Vash reader has a bounty over their head because knives made it convincing that Vash reader stole smithing sand murder others when it’s actually Knives that did that)

(It is said that Boothill met Argenti and caused some heat between the two so I assumed the two became enemies😭, you can ignore this if you’d like and also take your time and be sure to hydrate!!!)

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Boothill & Argenti x Female reader

𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader that like Vash

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fluff, spelling mistakes,

𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈: post

𝐵𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓍𝓎 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈"

The second he sees that bounty on your head, he wants you. He never missed a target, never! You ain’t nothing special either, pretty face with a high bounty. He doesn't mind any mouse and cat chase with you, you better hope you’re running fast.

He’s gotten you a couple of times but you're always escaping by matter of luck and mistakes. The galaxy rangers make fun of him, saying if he ever caught you he should try his luck on a lottery ticket.

You’re just pulling his boot but he’s got ya. You're distracted by that redhead knight, just don’t move and let his bullet go right through yer’ without any pain, quick and easy for everyone.

Until that dunce of a knight grabs you and pulls you away just at the right second. Now he’s just gotten himself some more work to do. You run along with that Prince Charming of yours holding him off, He doesn't get any time for this bull. 

He’ll take the loss this time but he’s gonna be on tail til’ you’re backed up in the corner with your tail between your legs.

That knight ain’t telling him nothin’ either, all that’s coming out from his mouth is flowery trash. Makes him wanna feed that knight some led

Till he found your little self in a bar with some angry men around you and they have a bone to pick with you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Come guys! Let’s talk things out first!”

Putting your hands up to surrender, while a group of men surrounds you—all of them are angry and you’re not getting out of here Scot free.

“How bout’ we sell her piece by piece?” One of the men brought up an idea that made everyone else laugh but made you shiver to your core. “That isn’t necessary!” “Yea, gentlemen, that ain’t necessary cuz’ she gonna be my catch.” 

Shots just started piercing through everything like a madman was given a machine gun. You just book it towards the behind-the-bar—glass shatters around you as you run— the adrenaline in your body doesn’t want you to stop.

“Move 'n I’ll shoot yer brains out too.”

You just completely stop the track, hearing his gun click he was going to shoot and there isn’t any way you're getting out of this either. The cold barrel of the gun against the back of your neck.

“Come on, let’s just talk this out of you—“You slowly turned your head, before he smashed you to the side, against the wall with a gun right between your eyebrows. “Yeah, talkin' it out like good ol buds, sorry but I gotta bounty to collect. It’s money, not ya”

“Haha….” You feel sweat dripping from your forehead, the gun being pressed more in between your eyebrows as if to prove a point. “Come on, it doesn't have to be that depressing! Not everything has to do with money.”

“Neither does it have to end up in people getting shot up—“  

You shove him roughly to the side, fast but not fast enough for you to avoid the bullet going through your body—catching him completely off guard. What are you stupid or just that selfless—sharp bang echoes fill the air. 

The flaming sharp pain in your shoulder, makes the adrenaline run off the walls in your head. Your knees weaken, collapsing onto the ground, body hunching over. Your hand clutches the coat where the bullet tore into, warm blood rapidly soaking through. Every breath just felt like you’re last. Gasping for air like a man who’s drowning in the big ocean.

He doesn’t get it at all, that bullet would’ve gone straight through and probably killed him, no it would have killed him. Yet after shots were fired and everyone was lying limp on the ground, he turned back to have gone with a trail of small drops of blood following.

Guess he was unlucky today.

In another universe you kiss, have a happy family and live without worries because I said so

𝒜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓎"

Argenti is bae. Like he saw you around a couple of times, helping people and keeping them safe and how can he not find that respectable? Like is knight, not someone who is the most selfless even without amour.

Forget the bounty bae, you're his bae now(jk). He finds you so gentle that he can’t even come close to taking you away. 

Seeing kids surrounding you, telling you all about their days and interests all at the same time like you’re the heavenly woman he’s ever witnessed. You’re blessing him with your presence near him.

But seriously he’s most of the time just seen you injured, and it’s pretty obvious when you try not to. Taking shallow breaths, grunting in pain, having a hard time leaning down or just the expression of wanting to die when you’re alone.

Yet he doesn’t understand when he tries to help you out that you start telling it’s fine and he should get off his knee. A warrior fighting for others shouldn’t go without some reward, to allow him to help with injuries. One look. Just one.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Even under the gaze of the bright sun and in pain, your beauty is breathtaking.”

Sitting on wood with your back against the old wood of the box, creaking every minute with newspaper on your face blocking out the sunlight as you try to deal with the terrible pain in your shoulder—even with the bullet out and bandaged up, the pain was just worsening— “Huh?…” you take the newspaper from your face to get a good look at who was there.

“Ah…before you decide to arrest me…we…should talk out Mr knight!” You look at him nervously, knowing you probably wouldn’t be able to get out of this with your injury. 

You don’t have glasses on, why now? You try to move your arm around to see where your glasses go. You can’t just leave without them! 

“A knight doesn’t attack the innocent. Especially one with honour such as yours.”

“Yeah ....I wouldn’t say I would have honour, it's more like I just want to be as helpful as I can.”

Glasses? Where are those glasses? “Your eyewear.” He’s just holding it right in front of you, “Allow me.” Put it gently on your face before going on your knees. 

“What are you doing?!”

“Allow me to treat your injuries.”

“No, no, that's completely fine!”

“I insist, allow me to be in the grace of your beauty.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[wheeboo]

insomniac | lee jihoon

SYNOPSIS. in which jihoon has trouble falling asleep. PAIRING. lee jihoon x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship WARNINGS. mentions of insomnia WORD COUNT. 1.2k

notes: just a random jihoon comfort drabble because he works so hard for us and deserves everything in the world <3

Jihoon can’t fall asleep.

It was nothing out of the ordinary for him, as he finds his days filled with exhausting schedules that easily wears him out, yet he spends his nights specifically to produce new music for the group. But as the rest of the world around him settled into deep slumber, Jihoon remained wide awake in those ungodly hours, fueled by nothing but the intensity of his creative passion.

He couldn’t tell if there was any reasoning behind it𑁋if there was a reason why his brain is so full of ideas that it can’t seem to just shut up and be quiet for once, so he feels the need to put it all down first until the wee hours of the night before having to force himself to sleep, which in itself doesn’t really do his body well. 

The cycle had started over a month ago𑁋that’s what he told you at least𑁋but time seemed to lose all meaning when he was in the zone. The days blurred together, punctuated only by the occasional meeting or performance. Jihoon couldn't remember the last time he had a good night's rest. His mind resembled a galaxy of inspiration, and he was just a mere person trying to capture its brilliance in sound.

Jihoon finds himself staring at his computer in front of him, eyes dry and a bit heavy, yet his mind is completely awake. It’s around three in the morning and he’s probably gotten up once or twice in the last few hours. He knows himself that whatever he was doing was unhealthy; you nagged him about it just an hour ago, and now you were coming over.

His phone vibrates and he takes it in his hands, reading through your short text.

[my y/n 🤍] can you let me inside?

Jihoon’s heart twinges with guilt as he reads your message. He knows he should have listened to you and taken better care of himself, but the allure of his music and the pressure of his work had consumed him. He had become a slave to his insomnia, unable to break free from its grasp.

[my jihoon ❤️] door is unlocked. be careful

The moment he sends the text he hears some footsteps outside his door. He stands up from his chair, releasing a groan from the slight ache in his step, and heads his way to greet you. 

Immediately once he opens the door, he frowns at how disheveled and tired you look when taking off your shoes, knowing that you made the effort to come to his studio for him. You carried a bag from what he presumes is food from the convenience store at your side. Gosh, what time did he last eat?

“You didn’t have to come here, Y/N.” Jihoon reaches a hand out to help steady you as you chuck your shoes off to the side. 

“I had to, honey.” The term of endearment sends something through his heart. “I can’t stop thinking about you continuously pushing yourself these days. I miss having you at home.”

Before he could respond, you take his hand in yours and lead him to the couch, placing down the plastic bag on the table. Jihoon helps you unpack the contents inside. It was just two bowls of ramen and a pack of microwaveable rice. 

“Here, I’ll warm this up for us. Just wait on the couch.” Jihoon takes lead and grabs the two bowls of ramen and rice, bringing it to the little kitchen area to the side and filling the bowls up with preprepared hot water. 

You find yourself sprawled on top of the couch, watching your boyfriend quietly hum his way through the studio. Even though you were tired yourself, you made an objective to not fall asleep right on the spot. You wanted him to be with you. You wanted him to try and fall asleep with you, and maybe just maybe help him get some decent sleep even for one night. 

And if you had to keep showing up to his studio to coax him out of work, then that’s what you were going to do. Nothing was going to stop you. 

Once Jihoon finishes warming up the rice and letting the ramen cool down, he brings the food back to where you are and sits himself down on the couch right next to you.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, though there was a bit of lingering tension in the air knowing that the elephant in the room had to be addressed at some point. For now you both just cherish the time together since a lot of Jihoon’s work had interfered the two of you from fbeing able to spend time with each other. 

Once you finish eating, you glance over at him, pushing back some of his dark loose strands in his face behind his ear so that you could see his side-profile better. You see his lips curve up in small appreciation, but he can’t seem to get himself to make eye contact with you. The guilt coursing through him felt as if he was a bit more distant than usual.

“You know you deserve a break sometimes, right?” You ask him, watching him take in your words so heavily that it makes him momentarily pause.

Jihoon nods his head, a small sigh leaving his lips. “I know. But ever since we discussed our comeback preparations, I... I can’t help myself, you know? I need to make everything perfect.”

You listen to him carefully, taking in his words like the gentle melody he has the art in making. Jihoon had always been aware of the immense pressure on his shoulder over the years and it just now began to take an obvious toll on his health both mentally and physically. 

“I just can’t rest knowing I have all these ideas, all these words for lyrics...” Jihoon scrunches his face up together, exhaling a deep breath. “But I do wish I can just sleep and rest.”

That’s when your face lights up just a bit. “That’s why I’m here. You’re going to take a rest with me, whether you like it or not.”

Jihoon peers at you as if you were crazy. “Y/N𑁋”

“Jihoon, honey, please rest with me. One night is all I ask for,” You practically beg him. “At least lay here with me until morning. I know your work is important to you, but... I miss you. I miss holding you and when you hold me.”

You stare at him with pleading eyes and Jihoon can never get himself to resist you. Though he has a lot of trouble expressing how he feels, he can never deny just how vulnerable and sensitive you make him sometimes. You always found the smallest ways to take care of him, even if it meant sacrificing yourself in a way. He’s always been grateful for that, and he knows that someday he will repay you. He has to.

Jihoon glances between you and his open computer in the background, finally letting his shoulders relax. 

“Okay.” He stands up, motioning to his computer. “Let me just turn all this off and then I can hold you.”

You shake your head amusedly. “I’d rather hold you this time if that’s okay with you.”

Jihoon feels a smile creep on his face as he walks to turn off his computer and soundboard. He’s not against that idea either.